I was forced to wear the only outfit that wasn't skin tight, a brilliant blue sleek gown that showed too much cleavage and had a slit up to my thigh. I really hated my choice of clothing, even as it amazed me, every step made fluffy white clouds flow across the fabric making it look like I was wearing the sky. It looked so real I tried to touch them, only feeling sleek fabric and my body underneath. I stepped out to meet Sam, trying to ignore how much skin I was showing.

Sam nodded his approval when he saw I had Crier at my side. I hadn't even thought about it, I just did automatically. Which was really strange, I couldn't even remember to grab my homework in the morning. Following him down the hall, we stopped at the corner.

“Now listen very carefully. The left always goes to the cafeteria, no matter what,” Sam said. “But the right changes depending on how you turn, unless you're following someone on an errand. When you're on your own, unless you want to get lost like you did today close your eyes and step forward with your left foot. That will lead you to the antechamber.”

I looked at him like he was crazy. “You're serious?”

“Deadly serious.”

We closed our eyes and stepped around the corner making sure to use lead with our left foot. I opened my eyes again and saw we were once more in the antechamber. The noise was as bad as ever, but I stiffened my spine and didn't cling to Sam. “Can we go somewhere peaceful?”

He knocked on the door, “Park.”

We entered a landscape of tree's that were a riot of colours, green birds recited poetry in tree's of red. A warm breeze blew through the tall furry grass, it sounded like flutes. A waterfall of pink and yellow water sounded like sleigh bells as it hit the rocks below. Flowers purred like kittens, caressing our ankles as we walked.

Sitting down under a weeping willow, Sam began weaving glass flowers into my hair. His thick fingers should have been too large to do it, but he managed to do it without a single mistake.

“What were you like?” I asked.

His fingers stopped. Turning to look at him I saw confusion written on his face. “When you were a girl, what were you like?” I repeated.

His eyes went down, staring at a large caterpillar that was smoking a pipe. “I was vain. I was the middle child of a family too large to support itself, and I was pretty. I only had cheap, stained clothes but I made sure they were cleaned as much as possible. I would fix my long, black hair in the latest styles even when my sisters and friends laughed at me. I was going to leave my home, become an actress or maybe the wife of a rich, handsome man.” He looked at his massive, scarred hand, and snorted in contempt.

“I would wander through the hills of my home looking for herbs, crushing and boiling them to rub on my skin to keep it smooth. We couldn't afford lipstick or make up, so my friends and I would use berry juice, or we'd get one of the boys going into town to steal us some. If he succeeded we would all give him a kiss while wearing it.”

He looked at me, “Do you think I could still get a boy to do that now?”

“I know one or two who might,” I told him. “Samantha isn't your real name is it?”

He shook his head. “No, it was the name of a friend I had when I travelled through the steadings of the US. I took it to honour her, so I'd never forget her.”

Watching him I saw his hands were again rubbing against his legs. I could hear his callouses rasping over his skin, it grew faster, harder.

“You had to fight her?”

He nodded jerkily. “We beat up a slave who had insulted us. His owner turned out to be very powerful. So to repay the incident we had to fight each other, it was suppose to be to first blood. We'd fought each other before, so we looked at it as a game, a challenge.” He stopped rubbing his hands, he held them up to his face tears fell freely.

“We were each given a dagger and a silver gauntlet. We fought for over ten minutes without cutting the other. We were bruised from kicks and punches, but the dagger always seemed to miss our flesh. Finally I managed to nick her leg. It wasn't a large cut, I'd gotten worse paper cuts. But it bled. It bled like a river, and it didn't stop.” He wiped the tears from his face.

“I tried to help her, but there was nothing I could do. The fair folk watched from the sides laughing as I cried, and Samantha screamed. My master congratulated me on fighting so well.”

His shoulders shook and the tears returned. I did what was natural, and hugged him to me as he cried himself out. I didn't say anything, just held him to me as he shook and sobbed. I'd never been good dealing with crying people. Before coming here I couldn't imagine seeing a guy crying like this, but now I just waited for him to finish, letting him find some relief.

Finally he stopped crying. His shoulders weren't as tense as they usually were, some of the anger had left his eyes. “I'm sorry, it's just, no one ever talks about things like this. And-and you're the first person who realized.”

“Don't worry Sam. I understand. When you were at home what did they call you?”

His eyes looked far away, as if trying to remember. “It was Alejandra.”

“Pretty name, for a pretty girl.”

“It was a lifetime ago. I'm not her anymore,” he said, his voice going flat.

I stood up. “Let's go somewhere else.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere with at least one other nice person, Is there anywhere like that?”

Sam nodded. “I know someone you might like.”

We stepped back out into the fleshy antechamber. Sam knocked on the door again, “Entertainment room.”

The door opened to something out of an art class. There were tables and benches scattered almost randomly all around the curved room. They were covered in paints, clay, sticks, papers and things I couldn't identify. The tables sat oddly on the floor they were actually at thirty, forty even ninety degree angles as they sat on the curving glass floor, yet nothing fell off them. I looked up and realized the tables were on the ceiling to. A woman was up there staring at something, her long hair wasn't even falling down.

“Come on, lets see what Mrs. Jones is up to,” Sam said.

“How?”

He took my tiny hand in his. “We walk.”

I figured we'd fall on the glass floor, it looked as slick as ice and there was no way we'd be able to make it up to the ceiling. But as I put my foot on the glass it seemed like I was walking on gravel, in the soft, cloth slippers I was wearing it actually hurt my feet a little. The room seemed to move as we walked, like walking inside a big ball. After looking up once and almost getting sick as the tables moved around us, I kept my eyes on the ground. The shifting shadows just barely visible through the thick glass seemed to be coming towards us. They shifted size, splitting apart, coming back together, circling Sam and I, becoming darker only to fade back slowly. Was that how a goldfish thought saw us?

I almost walked into the table, I'd been watching the shadows so closely. Mrs. Jone's wasn't watching us, she was so intent on two dolls she was making out of play-doh and sticks.

“Hey Mrs. Jones, I want you to meet someone,” Sam said softly, lowering his and drawing out the vowels like he was talking to a small child. “This is Anthony, she just got here.”

“Hi, Mrs. Jones,” I said, clutching my elbows.

She looked at us, her hair was damp, and her cheeks looked wet and wrinkly, like your fingers and toes when you've been in the water too long. “Hello Anthony, do you want to see my children?” she asked.

“Ok,” I said trying to hide a grimace. Was everyone crazy?

She pointed at the clay dolls, they were clearly a boy and girl. “This is my son, Peter, he is ten years old. Doesn't he look strong? And this is my beautiful daughter, Amber, she is so smart, all the teachers love her. How old are you dear?”

“I'm sixteen.”

“You're the same age as Amber. I'm sure you'll be best friends. Say hello Amber, this is your new friend Anthony,” she said to the doll.

I wondered how I was suppose to talk to clay when the doll stood up. It was a little wobbly since it's feet were just thin sticks but it stood up and gave me a stiff wave. It's tiny red lips smiled. My jaw dropped in disbelief. I watched as the little creatures smile started to falter, I thought I heard Mrs. Jones begin to sob, but I couldn't say anything. A finger jabbed me in the ribs hard enough to hurt, and my brain started to work again. “Hello, Amber. Are you having fun today?”

The doll nodded before turning to help her 'brother' up. Mrs. Jones clapped her hands together like a little girl. “I knew it! I knew it! You'll make great friends, and I'm certain you'll keep her out of trouble. Not like that little pointy eared friend she made who led her into the woods. If it wasn't for that mean little girl, we wouldn't have gotten into trouble now would we. No we wouldn't, no we wouldn't.”

She smiled up at me. “Anthony... I had a good friend when I was a girl call Anne. Can I call you Anne. Anne, if you ever need any help, just come to my room and Amber or Peter can help you if I'm not around. Peter is very strong, and Amber is very clever. All her teachers say so.” Her smile faltered a bit. “Of course they don't talk much anymore, you'd think a cat had their tongue. But if you need to talk I'd love to have a little chat with you. You're too young for coffee, but I have some wonderful tea and chocolate. I can fix your hair, it goes so well with your skin. It looks just like Amber's skin used to.”

I looked at my dark red skin, but decided that shutting up was a good idea right now.

Before the strange monologue could continue, someone landed on the table. I looked up to see Paula, she'd somehow jumped from the floor to the ceiling. My mind couldn't quite comprehend what was happening. I had killed her, but she was there. I had felt her blood on my hands, but here she was perfectly healthy. A large part of me was glad that I wasn't a killer, but I still realized that I had killed her, another her. I had no idea what to say or do.

Mrs. Jones solved the problem by shrieking.

I looked down and saw that Paula's foot had crushed Amber. Her tiny stick legs kicked feebly and then stopped moving.

Sam's massive hand grabbed Paula's leg and threw her across the room.

Paula was going fast enough that she should have hit the wall and splattered like a bug. But as she flew through the air, the woman spun, hitting the curving floor feet first, her horribly long limbs bent as she landed then sprang forward as if her limbs were springs. Her face was contorted in rage.

I watched as Sam turned to his side, his arms raised, one foot forward ready to slap her down. At the last second, Paula grabbed a table leg sending her flying under the table, her body contorted so she slid around the table legs, brushing them with her hands and feet to change her direction. Her thin leg snapped out catching Sam behind the knee. I winced at the sound of bone hitting flesh.

He fell to his knee with a grunt of pain. An arm that would make Popeye proud rose up stopping a vicious kick aimed for his face. I moved forward not entirely sure what I was going to do, but certain I had to help. I started drawing my sword, I'd killed her once, I could kill her again.

I never even saw the fist that hit my face. One second I was moving forward and the next I was on my back spitting out teeth, fighting back the tears. I'd felt a lot of pain over the last day or two, but as the gritty blood ran down my throat making me want to vomit, I had to admit that it hurt, a lot.

There were thuds and slaps as the dancer and the gladiator fought. They didn't scream or yell, they just grunted in pain or effort. I was left wondering how I could possibly have managed to kill the other Paula. Sitting up, I finally saw what was happening. Sam was covered in small bruises, his lip was split, there was a gash over his eye, and he held one hand as if it was sprained. Paula wasn't winning though. The entire left side of her face was a massive bruise, I couldn't tell if she could see even see out of her eye. I drew Crier.

“Don't kill her!” Sam yelled at me.

“Why not?!”

He glanced at me, “We'll die if she di-”

Paula brought a chair down on his head, cutting off his last words. I watched as Sam's arms dropped to his side, he swayed like a tree in the wind. With agonizing slowness he fell to his knees and then fell face first to the floor. I probably imagined it, but it seemed like the floor shook.

With her lips curling from bruises, Paula looked down at me. “What did you do Ant?” she spit. “I know it was you, what did you do to me?!”

I shook, I was as terrified as Mrs. Jones who was wailing behind me cradling her 'daughter'. If I killed this Paula, Sam and I would die. Without Crier I had no chance against her, she'd taken out Sam I was a dead man.

“W-what do you mean?” I whispered.

“I can't talk to myself. You did something to me. How did you do it?” Her hand lashed out, knocking Crier from my hand.

“I didn't do anything.”

Her hand circled my throat. Long fingers as hard as iron cut off my air, nails that felt as sharp as razors drew blood. I was pushed back onto a table, jars of paint were knocked aside. “You lie. Swear yourself to me, and I'll help you. I'll keep you alive. If you don't, I'll make your life a living hell until you beg me to kill you, until you are licking my shoes in the hopes that I'll end your living nightmare.”

My lips moved. I couldn't beat her. She'd beaten Sam, she'd gotten rid of Crier before I could do anything. If I did kill her I'd be killing myself somehow. I hadn't even seen how she'd fought, she had moved so quickly. I was useless, helpless.

I saw the blue me, following Paula meekly, a slave, but she'd been safe, alive. The fighter who'd given me Crier, she'd been so tired, so sad, you could see it in her eyes. What was the point of fighting, it was like Grandma had told me the other day, I was useless.

Give up.

“I-I,” I tried to speak but couldn't get enough air in my lungs to form the words. The hand loosened a little.

“I can't hear you Ant. Speak louder,” Paula said, jabbing a finger hard into my stomach causing me to cry out in pain.

“I swe-”

The clay doll Peter jumped onto Paula's face, uselessly hitting her with it's tiny stick arms. I sat up coughing, just in time to watch Paula grab the little doll. She squeezed it, it's arms and legs snapped, and the clay body oozed through her fingers.

Mrs. Jones screamed like someone was ripping her heart out.

Paula turned on me again. “Swear, you vile little ant.”

My heart was pounding like a drum as I threw a jar of paint at her. The glass container shattered against her arm, covering her sweat stained, yellow leotard, a dark red. I wasn't sure who was more surprised me or her. It didn't make much of a difference, she dodged the next two paint jars, letting them shatter against the wall.

Paula moved like lightening, her fist cracking down on the table where I'd been a millisecond before. I grabbed her arm, biting it as hard as I could, not stopping even as blood filled my mouth. She screamed flinging me away, with the sound of tearing cloth and muscle. There was the sensation of flying upwards, followed by a second of weightlessness, then I was plummeting to the ground above me. I twisted in the air like a cat, landing on my my fingers and toes, like I'd been taught earlier by my fiery double.

The freak leapt through the air like a spider, leaving a trail of blood from her arm. Landing on her hands she swung her legs in a vicious kick sending the canisters of paint, clay and paint brushes shooting through the air. I felt the tip of her foot graze my neck, leaving a burning sensation from the speed alone.

Diving under the nearest table, scrambling away, I didn't hear her. The only noise was the crying of the crazy woman above us. The silence was scarier than hearing her. I needed to know where she was if I was to avoid her.

I found her, actually she found me. The table buckled in the middle just behind me. Long arms grabbed my wrists, pulling up and out, stretching me arms like I was crucified. Within seconds it felt like my shoulders were dislocated. My shoulder blades ground against the table, I could hear my tendons stretching.

My feet touched the ground. With a scream I shoved the table up off the ground. For a second we were perfectly balanced, then the table started to tilt to the right. The strong hands let go, I felt the weight above me shifting, as Paula got ready to jump away.

Twisting my hand I grabbed her right arm. She pulled hard, almost dragging my hand under the table edge, but there wasn't enough time. Her hand was caught with a vicious crunching sound. I rolled over ready to break every one of her fingers. When the table slammed into my face. I saw stars, then I saw Paula. Her fingers formed a blunt knife heading straight for my stomach. I didn't have time to think, my hands grabbed a table leg, pulling me forward. The hand came down between my legs, catching my inner thigh. A real knife probably would have hurt less.

It didn't stop me though. Scurrying along the ground I went under chairs, swung around table legs and ran over tables, as Paula chased after me. Her long legs and arms let her move faster, and her hands were never less than a foot behind me. I couldn't think, if it looked like it would slow her down even a fraction of a second I did it. I was gulping for air, I couldn't keep going. I needed a weapon because she was going to catch me any second. How could she keep going like that?

There was a thump, followed by a cry of pain.

I looked behind me to see Paula lying on the ground a large foot grinding her into the ground. I'd never been so happy to see someone in my life. Sam was standing there, a pained grimace on his battered face. He looked at me, the hate turned to something else, it was distant, he seemed smaller, less sure.

“Paula, I don't know why you hate Anthony so much, but this can't keep going on, or someone is going to die. Anthony come here,” he said. I walked over, carefully watching Paula's arms. I didn't like the tone in Sam's voice, it was so soft and weak. He sounded like my Dad had sounded when he'd lost his job a few years ago, hopeless.

“Both of you swear on your honour, and your lives that you will not harm the other one,” Sam said.

“Like hel-” Paula's words were cut off in a scream of pain as Sam's foot pressed down on her spine.

“Why? Why not just kill her now. I've killed her before,” I said, my words slurred badly as I tried to talk around broken teeth and a rapidly swelling cheek.

Sam covered his eyes, and Paula looked at me with a strange mix of hatred and fear. “If you don't swear I'll walk away right now and let you and Paula finish things. Paula, if you don't swear I'll snap your back right now and the Lady can kill me as many times as she likes, I won't care. Now both of you Swear!”

“I swear on my honour and my life, I won't kill Paula.” It was the hardest thing I ever said. From the look of it, it was even harder for Paula as she spit out the words.

Sam nodded, removing his foot from her back. “Now maybe we can get some peace around here. Paula you use the infirmary first, don't be too long, we'll be coming in whether you're done or not in ten minutes.”

Paula stood up and with as much dignity as she could muster, walked out of the room. As soon as she was gone, Sam sank into a chair, holding his head. “I didn't think you'd be so much trouble when I saw you, even with everything I've seen. But you're going to get me killed,” he said, it didn't sound like a joke.

Mrs. Jones came running up. Her face was wet with tears, but there was a smile on her face. “Oh Amber, you did so well fighting off that nasty, nasty lady. But you're hurt, here let me help you.”

I let her guide me to a chair, as she tried to fix the minor nicks and cuts, crying in horror at my swollen and discoloured cheek, and the handprints on my neck. “I knew you'd come back to me, Amber. I never gave up hope. And now you're here. I won't let anything happen to you ever again. I'll be a good mother now. Trust me. Please trust me this time.”

There weren't any words left in me. My body was on fire. Leaning into her chest, my arms circled her neck and I cried.