Work Text:
Statement of Stephanie Waters in regards to the disappearance of her friend, Eleanora June. Original statement given September 23rd, 1971. Written recording done May 3rd, 2016 by Alexandra Meyer, assistant archivist of the Usher Foundation, WA, DC, USA.
Statement begins.
The face that smiles at me in the mirror is not my own. It used to bother me a lot more, but the longer I stare into her bright blue eyes the more sure I am that that look is friendly. Such a pretty shade of blue... It can be so difficult to tear my gaze away. The more I look the more I want to simply melt into the mirror and fade from the world to be held in her arms. She appears so sweet, when she smiles, hand resting gently upon the surface of the mirror. Just like how Ellie used to be, when she and I were still close.
I miss her a lot. Eleanora June. We really met at quite a young age, around third or fourth grade I believe? God, looking back it's laughable how wrong my first impression of her was. She had this red-streaked hair back then, I have no idea how her parents let her do that, but it certainly led me to some very incorrect conclusions when I first met her. I instantly thought that she'd be cruel, some kind of pretentious bitch acting cooler than she really was. It couldn't have been further from the truth. Ellie is one of the sweetest people you will ever meet, just one of those types that cares so much about the wellbeing of those around her, the kind of person you have no doubt trusting with your life. I suppose at times it had the possibility of leading to some problems, with her always putting others before herself and all, but she never seemed to have any issues. There were moments when I'd try to reciprocate her meticulous affection, making sure that she ate and was watching over herself just as carefully as she was everyone else, but there never seemed to be any issues. Not once did I see her run into the problems my other friends and I did, even during high school when eating disorders and crises of self worth were the norm. No, she always seemed to be at the top of her game, caring for herself in the same careful manner as everyone else around her, always smiling and laughing. She was like the sun to me, a ball of light and warmth giving off life to everyone and everything around her. I almost felt ashamed looking at her sometimes, being close to her, like I was unfit to be her friend. I suppose sometimes I still feel like that.
The first time I visited her house was the summer after fifth grade. Our school district always had the fifth graders go stay at a nearby camp, just for a week, near the end of the year. I think it was a way of getting the elementary students from different schools acquainted with one another before everyone was pooled together in the same middle school. I, of course, was in a cabin with Eleanora. The camp itself honestly kind of sucked, just a lot of teachers and college student counsellors trying to hype everyone up. I don't mind hanging around my classmates or being outside all that much, but after a few days of the same overabundance of loud eleven-year-olds and mosquitos it can get a bit overwhelming. Eleanora was fine, of course, but she seemed to get closer to me during that time. While our other friends went bouncing off the walls and bounding into the forest the second the teachers let them loose, Eleanora and I tended to pull a bit further back, taking our time and just talking. By the last day we had come up with a pretty clear plan for what to do when summer hit. I was to visit her on a day when her parents would be busy with work (and so were more likely to be out of the house for longer) and stay the night. It wasn't like we would be completely alone, her elder sister Amanda was in high school and her presence guaranteed we wouldn't get into too much trouble, but for the most part it was going to be just the two of us.
I didn't expect to see the man when I walked into her living room. He was older, long hair pulled back into a ponytail at the back of his head. I remember distinctly thinking that it was strange how similar it looked to Ellie's, streaked with long patches of gray instead of red. Their smiles were parallel when they both looked back at me, bright blue eyes and plain white teeth appearing almost sharper when reflected across two faces instead of just one. I gripped the strap of my backpack a bit tighter, and Ellie asked me what was wrong. I shook my head and the man stood up and walked away, a silent wave and widening of his grin his only goodbye. When I asked Ellie later who the man was she only smiled and handed me another piece of tape, directing me where to place it on the broken mirror. I don't think I ever saw her sister.
We met up a few more times that summer, and it became a sort of routine in the years that followed. For the most part we stayed at her place, as her parents constantly worked and we always had the house to ourselves, though occasionally my parents would insist that we stay back at mine. She always acquiesced without any issue, but it always felt like she was a bit uncomfortable under the watchful gaze of my parents. After a few visits marked by her stiffened shoulders and tighter smiles I started insisting that we stay at her place. I think it helped, a little. She still looked nervous whenever my parents came to pick me up, but at least she could relax when it was just the two of us alone.
The house itself was certainly strange, to say the least. From the outside it seemed just like any other townhouse on the block, two floors of fresh blue and white paint marking the cheery home of a family of four. But whenever I stepped inside it always seemed so much larger than that. The entryway from the front door was fairly normal, leading past a piano and the glass doors of an office-type room, but the living room it led into always felt huge and uninviting, despite how much older I got and how many comfortable couches were tucked into the corners. The kitchen was stuck in the corner of the first floor, and a bathroom tucked in beside a closet, and even a small space for leaving shoes and such beside a door leading to the garage, but the halls that led to each room felt too long somehow, twisting and turning in a way that made my stomach do the same. The second floor was just the same, a lot of closed doors leading to the rooms of the different family members from halls that branched away from a smaller room with a couch and TV. Still, whenever Ellie led me past the bright yellow door into what should have been her room everything felt...strange. Tight, despite the tall ceiling, like the air was hanging heavy. I remember very clearly the first time she let me go into her room. For a while we never went into any of the rooms of the second floor, usually sleeping on or beside one of the couches in front of a TV, if we slept at all. We often got caught up talking, or playing video games, or drawing. Drawing...What was it we were drawing? I can't bring myself to remember. Well...anyways, it must've been years before I even thought about asking where her room was.
It was the summer after our last year of middle school. We were playing Smash Bros, sitting on the floor in front of the couch on the second floor, when suddenly it occurred to me just how little I really knew about Ellie. She had always been a bit vague when talking about the details of her life, something I had always just accepted without any thought. That day though...
Eighth grade had been a weird year for me. Middle school in general seems to be a funky time for many people, what with puberty and all the other changes people tend to go through, and for me it was no different. Eighth grade was the year that I began to suspect my feelings towards Eleanora might have been changing, though I still couldn't pinpoint the exact way they were shifting. Now, of course, it feels almost painfully obvious that I had a crush, but I was still in the process of coming to terms with those feelings then, and I actually started to question if I liked her at all. She just seemed so painfully perfect in my eyes, so out of reach. Her smiles began to feel a lot less comforting and compassionate and a lot more condescending and cold. Her eyes and face seemed to sharpen a lot more as we aged, her hair curling into tight, precise curls. It felt almost exhausting to look at her sometimes, harsh rainbow colors painting her hair, an additional shade added each year at her birthday. Sometimes it looked like her skin was stretched over the bones and muscles and inner flesh of her body, as though it were trying to accommodate for much more than what should have been under the surface. Still...I thought she looked beautiful. She moved with a certain grace that I saw in no one else, every step like she was dancing to a melody only she could hear. Her hair was soft as clouds when she let me braid it, the messy streaks of color bringing out the soft pinks of her cheeks, the sharp white of her smile, the stark blue of her eyes. It was always her eyes that stood out the most to me when I asked her the question that warm August day. It was so curious to me at the time, the way they transformed as I asked her. I have trouble pinpointing exactly what it was about them, but somehow they gave me the impression that she was scared. Nothing else in her face betrayed any other emotion than affectionate interest, but the fear reflected so vividly in her eyes that I stuttered halfway through my question, tempted to stop talking altogether. I asked, though, and she sat quietly a moment in contemplation before setting aside her controller and turning off the TV. Then she stood up off the floor, brushed the pizza crumbs off of her cheery yellow skirt, and held out her hand to me with a smile. When I took it she held on so tight I actually physically winced, wiggling my fingers to try and get her to loosen her grip. Ellie paid no mind, turning to a hallway on the left and leading me to the end, where the bright yellow door leading into her room was.
Ellie made me promise not to let go before she opened the door. I did, not understanding why, but trusting her. She was a step in front of me, closer to the door with her head tilted forward so her curls covered her face in a way that made it impossible for me to see her expression, but it felt like her grip on my hand tightened even more when I agreed. I held my breath as she slowly lifted her other hand and placed it on the simple, bronze door knob. My heart beat in my chest as she twisted it slowly, every click like a step closer to something I shouldn't be near. For a second my body felt like ice as anxiety rushed through my blood. I wanted to grab her shoulder, stop her from opening the door, say something, but her grip on my hand was so tight and my voice got lost in the back of my throat. I still remember the sick feeling of every muscle in my body tensing as the clicks of the twisting knob stopped, still remember the exact image of my hand frozen atop the cold, cold bronze. I don't remember when our places switched.
But then a hand fell hard on my shoulder and I let out a small shriek. Ellie flipped around the instant she heard my voice, curls bouncing over her shoulders. For a moment I caught a glance at her face and it made me shiver, the rest of her countenance finally matching the fear in her eyes I had seen just a few minutes earlier, but I was quickly distracted by the smiling face of the old man I had seen three years ago. I hadn't seen him since that first day I visited her house, but now here he was again, and much, much closer than before. As I became closely acquainted with the yellowing of his teeth and wrinkles carved into his skin, Ellie spoke up, voice unlike I had ever heard it and would ever hear it, shaking with uncertainty.
"...James. What are you doing here?"
The man smiled even wider, the dry skin of his lips cracking as they were stretched.
"Just checking up on you two. Are you doing alright?"
I was frozen in place, staring up at the man, James, from behind Ellie's shoulder. Against my back I could feel the door, seemingly pulsing, though it was hard to tell if that was the door or my own beating heart periodically shaking my body. Ellie gave a small sigh and ran a hand through her hair, watching the floor to avoid James' gaze.
"Yeah, just...Just fine, Uncle James. We'll get out of your hair. Sorry to interrupt your...nap. Hey Steph, it's almost twelve. We should probably get to sleep, yeah?" I forced myself to nod, mumbling out a small "yeah," and following Ellie back over to the TV, feeling James' gaze piercing my back. I didn't sleep well that night, kept up not by the usual chatter from Ellie or some movie, but instead by my heart which didn't really end up calming down until after I left. I think Ellie was awake too, but she didn't say anything and seemed to prefer the quiet, so I kept my mouth shut, staring at the bumps on the ceiling and watching down the hall to see if that bright yellow door would show up again until the sun began to drift through the window and my body finally slipped into a very light sleep. I still don't remember the hall that door was in.
That was the last time I went to Eleanora's house that summer. School was already coming closer, and the anxieties of high school began to distract me and kept me from thinking about the whole situation too deeply. I still stayed close to Ellie, there was no way I was going to leave her just because of a weird moment at her house, but she felt more closed off to me after that, and in a way I didn't really know how to deal with. I visited a few times the next summer, and even fewer times the summer after that. I didn't visit at all after our junior and senior years. We still talked, even still met up fairly regularly outside of class, but our summer sleepovers were over, left in the memories of childhood.
I lost contact with Ellie for a while after that. It wasn't anything specific, just the usual drift that came with distance after high school. I spoke to her fairly regularly at first, but soon we both got distracted by a myriad of other things. I had moved across the state to go to college, and she had stayed at home to help out with the family business. I never really forgot about her, but still she fell to the back of my mind. When I came back in town to see my parents after getting my bachelors, the thought of visiting or even talking to Eleanora was the last thing on my mind.
At least until I saw her house.
It was so strange to drive by that house again. Everything about seeing my town was a little weird, sure, but there was something about the June home that just seemed off. Like the weirdness in the rest of the town was from it changing and transforming in the years while I was gone, but the weirdness from the June home was from the fact that it hadn't changed, not in the slightest. The blue and white paint was still as clean and solid and crisp as it had been when I first saw it over a decade earlier. Even as the other houses on the street degraded and decayed and were renewed in slightly different ways, Eleanora's house stayed fresh and bright, like it was trapped in a clear amber that I couldn't see.
I pulled over the moment I saw it. I had already met up with my parents and dropped off all of my luggage back home, and though I had planned to take that time to explore the rest of the town on my own, something about seeing that house again was inexplicably alluring to me. As I stepped out of my car the air seemed stiller than I had ever felt it before, the sound of my car door shutting and then my footsteps echoing down the silent street. It was certainly strange how silent and static everything was, but I barely noticed as I knocked on the front door, nearly entranced by nostalgia. The door opened after barely one knock and I found myself once again looking up into the face of my old friend.
She seemed taller, more filled out, like the awkwardness of our teenage years had finally seeped out of her body, but was being replaced by something else, something not quite right. Her hair was longer, messier, curls tangled together and stained with streaks of color to the point where I could no longer see any more of her natural brown. Her yellow dress seemed almost too small for her body, the sleeves and bodice stretched like a second skin over her arms and chest, tight. Everything about her felt emaciated, thin, and I almost expected her bones to creak when she took a step towards me. Still, her smile was the same, just the same as it always was. Warm. Calm. Inviting. Beautiful, of course. I don't think either of us said a word as I accepted her hand and stepped into the familiar halls of her house, walked past the same black piano, climbed up the same carpeted, spiraling stairs. I simply smiled back and gripped her hand, holding it tighter and tighter until the color drained from my palm.
There was no buildup this time. She led me straight to the yellow door, skirt bouncing across her thighs with each step. I didn't fight her. I could barely focus on moving one foot in front of the other. I was mesmerized watching the bounce of her rainbow curls, enthralled by the feeling of her hand in mine once again. It just felt so right to be with her again. Eleanora, my childhood best friend. I would've trusted her with anything. I would've trusted her with everything.
She didn't hesitate in opening the door this time. I barely noticed. Her smile was so painfully sweet when she looked at me, eyes so big and blue behind the long, curling bangs hanging over them. How could I have been expected to notice just how long the hallway was, or just how many mirrors were hanging on the walls when she was leaning forward closer to me, gently pressing her soft lips against the skin and bones of my cheek? It must have ended. It had to have ended.
When she pulled away, he was standing there. It surprised me more than it should have. He looked the same as he had the last two times I had seen him, hair still streaked with gray, face still marred with wrinkles, smile still deep and dark and warm. For a moment it almost broke me out of the haze I had been in, but then Ellie leaned over and rested her head against my shoulder and my mind fell back, deep in a cloud of glowing affection. I didn't really catch exactly what he said there so much fog in my head, something about making sure I didn't let go? I didn't know what he meant at the time, didn't even really care, but something in me still remembered what she had said all those years ago, and I gripped Ellie's hand tighter. She smiled and rubbed a circle across the back of my hand with her thumb and in a moment I was on the floor, doubled over staring at a pool of my own blood.
I don't know when the door disappeared. I don't know when James got behind me. I don't know when my brain was so messed up that she could pick up shards of glass and press them into my sides without me ever noticing a thing. All I know is that I didn't let go. Not when I fell to the floor. Not when she stepped into the mirror. I never let go. I promised, I never go back on my promises. It wasn't me.
It was Eleanora who let go of my hand when James pushed me through the door.
It's Ellie in the mirror. I'm sure of it, now. She smiles at me when I brush my teeth, or fix my hair, or catch a glance of my reflection in the dark screen of my phone. Warm, calm. Inviting. Watching every move. Always with me. Always smiling. Even when there are no reflective surfaces around I can feel her kiss sharp peel away the flesh at my cheek, see the marks from her nails digging into my skin.
The wound in my side has not healed and I cannot find the shard of mirror that did it. I can only assume it has gotten lodged deep inside my body, deep inside the inches and inches of flesh that make up the innards of my soul. It bleeds, and bleeds, and bleeds, and I fear what will happen when I finally lose all of my blood. Still she watches, ever silent, ever sweet, ever sunny. I got rid of every mirror in my apartment, even the one that was attached to the cabinet in my bathroom, but I can still feel her gaze watching me, from a place deep inside that I myself cannot see. I don't know what she wants me to do. I'm not sure if she even wants anything, right now. But I'm very, very afraid of what will happen if I reach inside myself through the mirror and take the hand she is offering one more time.
Statement ends.
The follow up on this one came up with some very strange results. In the procedure review Waters did before giving her statement, she states her hometown as being P, WA. Yet, after much searching of every town that starts with a P in Washington, neither I nor Marissa have found any official records of a Stephanie Waters ever even existing. The closest any of us could come to knowing she even exists is a single polaroid photograph, tucked in the files for a camp some miles away that prides itself as being perfect for elementary age kids. It depicts two young girls holding hands outside one of the cabins, one with long black hair and dark eyes smiling widely at the camera, and one with curly brown hair streaked with red and orange whose back is turned. Written on the back are simply the initials S & E. Jordan found this one, tucked away in an album that was misfiled beside some of the official records for the camp. That being said, an Eleanora June is listed as having lived in several of the smaller towns that are scattered across eastern Washington, as well as having gone to an Evergreen State College sometime in the late sixties. Seems to be another case of the stranger, perhaps mixed in with a bit of the spiral and eye. It is a bit worrying that so many seem to be collaborating, but there’s not much we can do almost fifty years later. Hopefully next time we can catch something like this quicker. I’ll have to be sure to inform the Washington branch of collaborations between the entities, or get Jordan or Marissa to do it. Or maybe even a full meeting would be quicker…We are due for an all-branch check up soon… Anyways. I don't believe that any further research can be done for this statement, so I will now mark it as closed.
Alexa Meyer out. Recording end.