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CHAPTER FIFTEEN OF TWENTY

❝ OUT OF THE FRYING PAN... ❞

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(NAME) AGGRESSIVELY STRUGGLED AGAINST THE PAIR OF HANDS THAT'D PULLED HER OUT OF THE ROOM. She begged it wasn't Eros. Her eyes were wild, attempting to tear free from the strong-gripped hands that pressed her against the figure of an unknown person. She thrashed her attacker into the wall, then the other than onto the floor.

He was masked with one of Eros' oven mittens. She ripped it off her face, revealing the mystery person she'd only heard about from the cat. It was the Other Wybie. His eyes were black buttons like everyone else's were in the hell that was Eros' World. His mouth was stitched into a painful, ear-to-ear smile.

Quickly, the Other Wybie hid his face from her view. "Wybie?!" she whisper-yelled, helping him sit against the wall, discarding the mask, she panted heavily, "What's that monster done to you? Oh, you poor thing,".

She was quick to unstitch Wybie's painful grin, discarding the pieces of black string onto the floor. She smiled at him, "I hope that feels better-" she began but was cut off by Wybie shushing her and pressing a finger to her lips. He looked her seriously in the eyes, dragging her by the hand into the living room.

Fortunately, the door was unlocked. The bug furniture was asleep. The duo ran over to the bug furniture. The Other Wybie was quick to push over the bug armoire, causing it to fall to the floor with a loud crash. Eros, upstairs in his dimly-lit sewing room, heard the crash from downstairs.

"(NAME)?!" he yelled from the topmost floor. (Name) and the Other Wybie froze, "IS THAT YOU?!".

"Let's go!" she whisper-yelled.

She yanked the door open, to reveal a more sinister version of the portal. Instead of the beautiful, vibrant indigo and violet coloured vortex, the portal was darkened and grey, covered with cobwebs and old, abandoned gifts. A hand-carved dagger. A jewelled necklace dating back to the 1500s. A crucifix necklace. A vintage book from the 1600s. A ruby necklace. A wilted bunch of daffodils. Shoes, hats, coats and dresses, browned with age, are littered in the portal too, from the other women who've attempted to escape.

"(NAME)!?" Eros shouted from upstairs, causing the portal to shake. His footsteps thudded against the stairs, "DARLING? WHERE ARE YOU? IF YOU COME OUT NOW, I'LL FORGIVE YOU! JUST COME TO YOUR HUSBAND!".

(Name) grabbed the Other Wybie's arm, attempting to take him into the portal with her. "Come on! He'll hurt you again!" she pleaded, desperation evident in her eyes.

"I can't..." the Other Wybie said, "Look what he's doing to me...". He took off his glove to reveal his hand was now reduced to sawdust. He blew gently and his sawdust hand blew away with the soft breeze, "Go now! I'll save you...I won't let him hurt you! Just escape while you still can, (Name),".

The Other Wybie looked sadly at her, cupping her cheek and using the pad of his gloved thumb to wipe the tear flowing from her eye. Eros' devilish arrival was inevitable. The Other Wybie kissed her forehead, pushing her into the dusty portal and closing the door behind her. (Name) scrambled through the portal, climbing upwards, guided by the light through the outline of the door to her real world.

She burst through the door, looking into the welcoming sight of her world. Covered in dust and cobwebs, she sighed in relief. "I'M HOME!" she yelled, closing the door behind her and locking it. She wandered through the corridors of the apartment looking for Eric, "ERIC?! REAL HUSBAND? REAL MAN I MARRIED?".

His study was empty, yet his laptop was placed on the desk. His shoes were by the front door and his bag was placed in his study. "Oh! Eric's got some food!" she proclaimed, rushing to the kitchen table. The brown paper bag was tipped over and rotten food spills out, an apple, a slab of raw meat, and a loaf of bread. Flies swarmed around it. How long had she been in the other world?

The doorbell rang and, as if on cue, Leela raced to the front door, barking hysterically. (Name) almost sprinted to the front door, gathering Leela into her arms and opening the door. "Eric, I'm so happy to see you-" she smiled, but her smile dropped seeing Wybie, "Oh, hey Wybie,".

"Bad time?" Wybie queried, awkwardly laughing, "Yeah...you know that doll I gave you? Well, my grandpa found out that I gave it to you and he's really mad. Says it was Grandma's or something...".

(Name) was quick to read him like a book. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You stole that fucking doll didn't you?" she accused.

Wybie was quick to answer, conveying his evident guilt. "Well...how couldn't I?" Wybie said, "It looked just like you! And I figured that...".

She scoffed. "Of course it does!" she snapped, odd for her, "And before it used to look like the superior version of Pocahontas...then Abigail Williams from The Crucible...then your grandma with her pin-curls and pink dress...of course! Your missing grandmother! I think I just met her!".

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"...LOOK, (NAME), I'M REALLY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE-" Wybie yelped as (Name) dragged him by his forearm, through the dull corridors of her third of The Pink Palace Apartment, through the halls eventually until they reached the living room. She walked him to the little door in the corner wall, pointing at it with her index finger.

Wybie looked around, fearful to be in his grandfather's former home and where his grandmother disappeared in the 1950s. "She's in there," (Name) explained. Reluctantly, Wybie crouched down by the door, hand reaching for the mysterious black key that sat inanimately in the lock.

"C-Can you unlock it?" Wybie nervously asked. (Name) quickly slapped his hand away from the lock, causing Wybie to recoil, cradling his injured hand in his other hand. He looked at the woman as if she was crazy. She began to wonder the very same. What with the information she'd just learnt from the three ghost women and her escape and being aided by the Other Wybie.

"Not in a million years," (Name) stated firmly, "But it wouldn't matter anyway! She can't escape without her eyes. None of the ghosts can. And risk letting him into this world? Not a chance,".

Wybie raised his brows at her. He was beginning to doubt (Name)'s sanity at that moment. He pitied her, nodding along as if believed her wild story. He was quick to change the subject, sticking to his mission. "Huh..." Wybie muttered, "So, uh, I really need to get that doll,".

(Name) was quick to pull him up from his crouched position, dragging him from the living room and up the stairs. "Great! I'd sell my organs on the black market to get rid of it!" she snapped. She opened the door to her and Eric's bedroom, quick to start searching through the bedroom, "Where the fuck are you hiding you, little bastard?!".

She began to dig through her drawers. She yanked the cushions off the window seat. Wybie just stood in the background nervously as the young woman dug through all her possession, searching high and low for the doll who'd been a spy for Eros. "You and Grandpa been talking?" Wybie nervously asked.

"The doll's his spy!" (Name) shrieked, opening the lid of the trunk at the foot of her bed, "It's how he watches you, finds out what's wrong with your life!".

Wybie stood there, like a deer in headlights, attempting to make some sort of sense from (Name)'s ramblings. "The doll is my grandpa's spy?" Wybie questioned.

(Name) turned to glance at him, who stood behind her. She whirled around, grabbing his shoulders. "NO!" (Name) snapped, "The Other Husband. Eros. The Incubus. That bastard has so many names it's not even funny. Whatever. He's got this whole other world for neglected wives where everything's better: the food, the garden, the neighbours. He showers you with the attention your husband never gives you, adores you to his wit's end...but it's all a trap,".

She points an accusatory finger at him, letting go of his shoulders. Wybie gulped nervously. Eager to escape the ramblings of (Name), he approached the window, cupping his ear to the glass. "Yeah," Wybie said, chuckling nervously, "I think I hear my sister or grandpa calling me, (Nickname),".

(Name) saw right through me. "Don't believe me?" (Name) asked, "You can ask the cat! Or Leela!".

Wybie moved around her, towards the door, turning to leave as swiftly as possible. "The cat? Your dog?" he parrotted, "I'll just tell Grandpa...that you couldn't find the doll- OW!".

(Name)'s blue boot hit his chest, landing on the floor of her bedroom. She took off her other boot, raising it in her hand. "YOU'RE. NOT. LISTENING. TO. ME" (Name) snapped, holding the boot in her hand.

"That's...cause...you're...CRAZY!" Wybie yelped, fleeing as the second boot flew past him. (Name) growled in frustration, picking up her first boot and starting the chase, going into the hall to grab the second boot.

(Name) chased him downstairs, Wybie running as fast as he humanly could with an aggressive (Name) on his tail, chasing him in her socks. It was raining outside when Wybie flung the front door open, racing down the stairs of the porch and hopped onto his motorcycle parked outside, putting the keys into the ignition.

"You creep!" (Name) shrieked.

"Crazy!" Wybie called over his shoulder.

The bike stalled momentarily. (Name) stood, heaving in the doorframe, boots in her hands. She chucked a boot at Wybie, who narrowly missed it. Wybie gunned his motorcycle, escaping down a side path past the driveway. "Crazy!?" (Name) shrieked angrily, "You're the twat who gave me the fucking doll!".

"Eric!" she cheered, noticing their mauve-coloured car parked on the driveway. She'd taken a taxi back anyways. Ignoring the soaked soles of her socks, she raced towards the car through the hailing rain. Instead of seeing the familiar sight of her husband's smiling face, the car was empty with the exception of her phone resting on the passenger seat.

It was a miracle it hadn't been stolen. She opened the car, which was oddly unlocked. Eric wouldn't casually leave it unlocked. She picked up the phone, perching on the car seat and selected Eric's contact. She pressed the phone to her ear, the loud dialling tone rang in her ear. "Hello-" Eric's voice echoed through the phone.

"Eric! Where are-" (Name) exclaimed, gripping the phone in relief. She wasn't thrilled that he still was alive but not happy.

Her heart sunk. "-I'm currently writing or spending time with my wife right now. Leave a message after the beep *bark*, No Leela, I said beep, not bark-" Eric's comedic voicemail rang through her ear as tears pricked in (Name)'s eyes. She hung up the phone, and let it slide down her palm and onto her lap.

"Where have you gone?".