There she was, wildly clacking away at her keyboard; and there the other was, lazily kicking her feet in the air, providing input where (she deemed) necessary.  Irene was researching for her next presentation.  It was hard to believe that only in a few months would she be graduating from university and living her life with accomplished independence.  Well, as independent as one could can get with a delusional hallucination at their side.  There was a sudden stop in the tick of the keyboard; so abrupt that even Wendy glanced at Irene to see what was wrong.

“Y’know, you’re no help at all, Wendy.”

           “How am I supposed to tell you something you don’t already know?”

           Irene swiveled in her chair to face Wendy, who still kicked into the darkness.  The only light source in the room came from the lamp on the blonde’s desk and though very close to Wendy’s body, its rays never really seemed to illuminate her features.  She was always in the shadows.  It had been months since she had realized the lack of Wendy’s actual presence, but well, Wendy still never left her side.  They were almost completely back to normal… almost.

           Irene growled in frustration and buried her head in her arms, “I’m just trying to find out why the hell you’re here in the first place!”

           Wendy was still the same.  Red hair, never-aging features, insanely dark, soulless eyes, and that amused smolder forever edged onto her face.  Irene still hated it.  She couldn’t believe something so annoying actually came from her head.  She made a note to never write a book.  Or maybe she would; the chances of being spontaneously caught for her past crime would diminish.  No one ever suspects the writer for their creativity after all.

           “I told you,” Wendy muttered as she pulled herself up to touch Irene’s blonde hair, “I’ve always been here.  I just decided to use a more effective approach.”

           “Approach to what?”  Irene gave into Wendy’s .  Did this count as touching herself?

           There was a silence that hung in the air, and if Wendy noticed how tense it was, she surely didn’t do anything about it.  “Approach to the realization of your insanity.”

          Irene pursed her lips and let that sink in for a moment before she sighed and swatted Wendy’s hand away.  It still felt so real.  “Whatever.  Come help me with my next speech.”

           Wendy glanced at Irene as the latter swung her legs onto the couch.  They were watching the news again, and this time, Wendy couldn’t keep her eyes off of Irene.  Minutes went by and Irene’s expression only darkened, perhaps disgusted?  Wendy cocked an eyebrow, “Are you seeing the morbid nature in murdering already?”

         Irene seemed shocked with Wendy’s sharp voice piercing the silent air, “What?  Oh, no, I’m just disappointed at how poorly this murder was planned.  I mean, he left the weapon there and didn’t even bother to use a glove or anything!”

Wendy nearly chucked.  “Are you saying you could do better?”

           “Oh, I know I could do better.”

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