Well, that information really wasn't comforting in the slightest. I had completely imagined up Quinn. I didn't believe it. Everything about her seemed so real and lifelike. I was practically in a state of denial. How could've I not remembered? And more importantly, a couple things still didn't add up.

After she had left me alone, I saw her looking extremely suspicious. If I had completely imagined her there, shouldn't I have known why she was acting strangely?

She had told me we had known each other for 10 or so years. The earliest drawing I could find of her was only like 2 years old. Either she had lied to me or I had another one of her from a long time ago. But if she had lied to me, why did I believe it? I should've been able to know she was lying, right?

Neither of those thoughts were very comforting, to say the least. I inspected the drawing one last time, hoping to find some extra text that I had missed the other couple times. Short story short, I didn't.

Still, there was the supposed 'more info on other page'. At that point, I figured that finding that other page was my best bet to finding out more about this whole ordeal.

I was not exactly the best detective, so I decided to call up my friend Chris Kaifn (pronounced coffin, and yes, I do make an effort to make a pun with his last name at least once a month). Chris was a total nerd for comic books, and I knew he had an extensive collection of mystery and sherlock type books. I figured he must've learned at least something from those books, after reading like 50 of them.

I texted him a little, asking if right now was a good time to call.

Mirror: yo christmas

CompleteLoser: whaaaaat i'm on #67 of detective rolan

Mirror: i need your help

CompleteLoser: can it wait

Mirror: is your house on fire

CompleteLoser: no???

Mirror: then you can spare a minute or two to help me

CompleteLoser: fine what do you want

Mirror: I'll tell you on the voice chat, c'mon

I waited for him to get onto the chat, knowing his microphone seriously sucked.

"Okay, this better be important. What do you want?" He asked, the static from his mic almost unbearable. It was quiet enough that you could understand what Chris was saying, but loud enough that you didn't really care what he was saying because of how much it hurt to hear him talk. I was probably going to get some serious hearing damage sooner or later.

"I need you to help me find something to solve a mystery," I told him bluntly. I could practically hear him frowning.

"No dramatic pauses or voices? Come on, Miri." I mentally facepalmed.

"Chris, cut the crap, this is semi-serious," I told him impatiently.

"And you're semi--!" I cut him off.

"Chris."

"Okay, fine. What is it?" he asked, disappointed I wouldn't joke with him.

I explained my current situation to him, cutting out the unnecessary details that I told you, dear reader. You deserve to know the full story and more, don't you?

He started out with the simple questions, and I gave him the simple answers. Things like Have you checked every sketchbook? And Did you read everything?. After those, he started to give me ideas where to look, until he gave me the one. The basement.

Sure, some people have this idea that the basement is a scary placed filled with demons and burglars, and maybe even I used to think that too, but nowadays the basement is just where mom keeps all the good junk food and my old art.

My old art. That had gotta be the place where the other page was kept. Well, it was either that or the garbage dump, but I was trying to be optimistic. I briefly thanked Chris for the help, hung up, and waded my way through the sketchbooks spilled over the floor of my prison cell of a room.

I slide down the stairs in my socks, almost falling down them. I slid my way through the living room until I got to the door leading to the basement. I carefully stepped down the basement steps, instead of slipping down like I did on the other stairs.

The basement stairs were wooden and creaky, unlike the shiny polished stairs that segue downstairs to upstairs, so if I had tried to slip down them, I'd probably die.

I stepped into the room on the left that was full of random things like tissue box and toilet paper packs, but also boxes of art I did in kindergarten to around 4th grade. The other page had to be there somewhere.

And it was.

After what seemed like hours upon hours of searching and trying not break things, I found it. But when I read what was on that page, it made me wish I didn't find it.

'When Quinn was 5, her parents divorced. This damaged her psyche a lot, and she never really was the same after that. As she got older, she became very interested in the ways of science and all that. But because of the trauma of losing her mom, Quinn developed a mental disorder which made her briefly lose control of her body once a month.

In her universe, it was called Aupster's Disease. Aupster's was first diagnosed by Dr.Heather Aupster, and was named after the scientist. Aupster's still had no cure, even after centuries of research, and most doctors and scientists had given up on finding a cure. Aupster's was kinda like your brain took a raincheck to go get some coffee and would be back shortly. The effects of Aupster's can last up to 2 hours, and the least amount of time recorded has been approximately 5 minutes. The effects vary depending on how severe the case is.

Anyways, Quinn's case was definitely severe. Once while messing around with chemicals when Aupster's Disease has taken over her, Quinn had accidently permanently bleached a section of her hair. At first she tried to cover it up by dying her hair back to her original colour, but she soon learned to embrace it and dyed her hair many weird colours. She usually went for sea-green, though.

Another time during an Aupster attack, Quinn was again messing with chemicals. She had previously been trying to create a cure for Aupster's all on her own, and she had almost succeeded. Until she messed around with it. This time, instead of bleaching her hair or actually creating a cure, Quinn did something much, much cooler. She thought she had created the cure and drank the strange elixir she had concocted. The elixir ended up giving her telepathy. She could read minds.

Her telepathy proved useful in a lot of situations. But she had to learn to control it, because her telepathy came with a great cost. The more she used it in a year, the closer she got to death. If she had been using her telepathy too much, she'd have to consciously block it as to not accidentally use it.

The blocking took a lot of strain on her too, which wasn't good either. And even though Quinn hated Aupster's, she could at least thank it for some awesome sea-green hair and telepathic powers.'

The rest was just a jumble of things like 'gender' or 'likes and dislikes', typical OC things. I then stumbled upon a little bit of text in the corner of the page.

'Quinn has been my imaginary friend since I was 3-4. I don't talk to her much anymore, but I hope she's doing okay.'