Number Four

That was how things continued; day after day, a different outfit- a floral dress, an emerald green suit, a checkered pencil skirt - come downstairs, have breakfast, talk, laugh, dance around one another as they found ways to fill the day, go to bed and start again. It was easy to fall into such routines.

Bonnie was content, it a way- there was peace. Any worries seemed so far away, outside the confinement of this place.
And in a way, she was not content- too much peace. She felt like a fisherman with a spear, poised over the surface of a calm pond- waiting.

They had settled together in the art room once again; the place quickly becoming the hub of their daily lives, where they would sit and chat about this and that in comfortable familiarity. Bonnie was wearing roses- large, red ones patterning the fabric of her dress, soft and romantic.

Henry had gotten her a dolls house. She was decorating it now; it was a tiny version of the Creel house, made up to look exactly like the real thing. Henry was sat a short way from her, reading a large book on arachnids.

Bonnie finished painting a miniature cabinet, identical to the one in front of her and placed it inside the house. All around her, her art supplies were spread out- her paints, brushes, patterned papers and fabric she had been using to decorate the interior. The house had come with two dolls- a man and a woman. A Henry-doll and a Bonnie-doll. Bonnie had put them to the side for now, unsure what to do with them. Perhaps at she would make them some new clothes.

Picking up a glue brush, Bonnie set about delicately pasting cut-out decoupage pieces onto items of furniture. She struck up a conversation as she did, one of the many of the kind they liked to have. "Do you know what an imago is?"

"The final stage of an insect's metamorphosis."

"Well... Yes, but it also means an idealised mental image of someone, which affects how you behave. I have an imago of you... and you have an imago of me."

Henry put down his book on the table, looking at her as he leant back in his chair. "I like you just the way you are."

Bonnie smiled wryly, eyes intent on her work. "Ah, but do you like me, or do you like the idea you have of me?"

Her hands had gotten bored somewhere in the midst of her words and begun fiddling with some scrap fabric- scrunching it up into a black and red shape and winding pieces of chord around it, round and round, until it looked like a strange creature with spider legs. Not really sure what to do with it, Bonnie stuffed it in the crib in one of the upstairs rooms and moved on.

There was something else- something was stuffed into the wardrobe in her upstairs bedroom. Reaching carefully inside the tiny house, Bonnie pulled open the doors with pinched fingers. Inside, there was a roll of paper- a strip, torn along the edges as if from a larger sheet.

Bonnie glanced over to see if Henry was looking, and when she saw he was not, she took the paper and unrolled it. There was writing on it- writing Bonnie recognised as her own handwriting. Writing Bonnie did not remember being written.

You don't belong here.

A/N: Other girls- "Do you like me, or do you like me like me?"

Bonnie- "Do you like me, or do you like the false version of me you have made up in your mind, influenced by your own perception and biases and formed from both what you know of me and what you would like me to be?"

Henry- "...Can we just talk about bugs?"

Anyhoo, please do let me know what you think of this chapter! This one had me pretty pumped, Ngl. XD I hope you enjoyed it! Please, do share your thoughts.