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The spindling sticks reared up before her with the ferocity and summer-lightning speed of a viper, confronted and provoked. Knobs of wood boiled and receded into frightening new shapes, weaving walls of wicker zigzag about her.

So. So, it has come to this. The night was cold, made colder by the chilling realization that, now, she was going to die, utterly completely without hope, caged in wooden fangs.



The swirls WIDENING
AND YOU KNOW REALLY
because that's what it means, it comes down toNothing can be d



What of memory, of love, of the tender glancing caresses of a mother to daughter, even unborn latter failing first all imbued in a thick SWIRLING
undying I hate SWIRLING
cloud of, oh, please don't go you know I am!

I love you once.
But once was enough and just barely.Defects they defy.



And it was death, and it was complete in deadening throes, and he said unto thee, go forth and redeem yourself!



Fading and compressed, her anger was complete, none the less for her failings. And she had tried so hard.

Go forth--she went, for always had she, grasping, blind, grappling with the reality - futile - of the conditions with which she decaying was faced, chosen, straws were better than none, pins not unfindable within their loops, yes, strawpinsCHANCE beckoned and GO FORTH, go forth she did.

It was black, but then that had always been her element.



Her breath crystallized in the cold air, so cold, the coldness of assent, revenge a dish best served--and whatnot, frigid.

The key clinked quietly in the apartment door. Turn, turn, push and pull, so hard to open she couldn't believe it--finally the door slid open with a disgruntled groan and two shadows slipped inside.

Ritika pulled angrily at a thin chain hanging from the ceiling, and as the cord fell off in her hand, a light slowly flickered on above their heads. Stomping over through the small and cluttered kitchen to what appeared to be either a living room or a rubbish dump, the woman threw a pile of papers at the far wall, before turning towards her newest charge. For a second, Rachael thought that perhaps Ritika was going to throw her, but then the woman's expression softened into a grin.

She laughed. "That was...interesting. And I got a salary raise, yes? Not that it's going to be of any help, since I refuse to go back to that horrid--" Ritika bit back a curse and squinted at the child thoughtfully. "You don't look too horrible, either, so all's well."

Rachael bit at her lower lip, fingers entwining with curly hair. Was the lady going to yell at her now? Like she had at the big man? What should she do? Her mind was a complete blank.

Perhaps seeing Rachael's confusion, Ritika swept down towards the floor, kneeling gracefully. "Hey, you tired? Yah? You can sleep in the sofa bed today. Maybe we can get you something better tomorrow." She jerked her head towards a mildewy apparation near the center of the room, a mountain of festering junk spread evenly across the cushions, if they could still be called that. "I mean, it looks weird, sure, but hey presto! Cleaning is easy. I do it every day."

Somehow, from the looks of this room, Rachael doubted the truth of that last comment. Perhaps the rest of the apartment was more organized. Nodding tentatively at her new guardian, the child wandered toward a shady doorway to the right of the sofa, peering in nervously.

The room seemed to be made completely of shadows--the doorjamb, painted black, seemed white in comparison to the layers of darkness swirling inside. Rachael could see less than a foot into the room before her sense of perspective got jumbled and turned topsy-turvy--was the far wall in the back right before her nose or miles beyond? She wasn't sure. Suddenly, the child shivered, backing away a step from the threatening doorway. A soft hand fell upon her shoulder, and Rachael started in fright.

It was only Ritika. "Let's not go into there," she breathed softly into the ToR's ear, pulling the child away gently. "Little children shouldn't be poking around in strange places." Her voice was tinged with the barest hint of danger.

"Okay," Rachael ventured, the first sound she had uttered since returning from AW inc. She glanced back at the doorway--was that her imagination or two yellowed eyes slanting at her glimmeringly from the veiling darkness? Shuddering blubberly, the girl allowed her guardian to lead her back to light and warmth, fixedly looking away from the room.

"So." Ritika swallowed. "It's almost midnight, but you look pretty tired so maybe you should go to bed. Too bad. Maybe you can stay up another time. Help me with this sofa bed?" Slender fingers tugged at a corner of the mound of moldy objects piled atop the couch, and a few crumbling crackers clattered towards the floor.

"Maybe not," the woman concluded, scowled, kicked at the sofa. "So you can sleep on the floor." She smiled at Rachael again, and whisked away only to be back a second later with a threadbare blanket. "We'll fix up something better in the morning. Or maybe next week."

Rachael coughed as dust rose from the proffered blanket. "Mommy, can I sleep you?" She chanced another glance at the doorway.

"No."

"Mommy..."

"I'm not your mommy." Once more, Ritika's voice was traced with thin lines of warning. She crossed to the other side of the room, curling fingers around a metal nub on the ceiling--the last remnants of the chain. "Good night," she added tauntingly, and with another gentle click the lights went off.

For a while, Rachael lay there, sweating coldly, weeping slightly in fear of The Doorway and anger at Ritika's sudden change of attitude. The woman was mean, very mean, to leave her in this bad room with that bad...thing inside the darkness. She felt an angry monster stir inside her, fangs bared in momentary hatred at Ritika, and the little girl hissed furiously in the darkness. She didn't want to be here! She wanted to go home! Back to the last thing she remembered before being picked up by that nasty robot--woods, serene and still. A full moon, gently coating everything in a layer of silver. You could see everything, everything, in clear and dark outline, and there was no fear, she felt no fear, everything was safe and suspended in a soft moment. The brambles entwined around her but that was the way she wanted it to be, not too high and not too low, just sitting there quietly, staring at the pearly mists wreathing the moon, large glowing marble. Just sitting there, forever, suspended in the serene beauty of a full-moon night, nothing near, nothing happening, just wait and rest and perhaps sing. Her legs felt heavy in a good way and the heaviness slowly receded--but now they were just tired and worn-out from matching Ritika's long paces, and now she was in a nasty room with two monsters, one in a bad, dark place and one in a mad, dark place--one outside and one inside. No escape.

You can't run away from monsters.

She turned to look at the wall with the shadowy doorway, arranging the blanket around her head so that she could duck under it easily if need be--I can't see you, you can't see me. The yellow eyes were still there, more like lamps than anything else--nightlights, almost. She knew somehow that they wouldn't come closer, yet. Yet. One day the monsters would catch up, but for now she could keep running. But for now she would go on and maybe they would like her and maybe maybe maybe the monsters didn't exist, she didn't see them and they wouldn't see her, maybe Ritika would be nice later and tell her that she, Ritika, was the ToR's mommy and loved her and maybe the monsters didn't exist, Rachael was hungry. So hungry; the robot had given her nothing to eat and Ritika hadn't even bothered to ask. She sucked at a corner of the blanket, chewing thoughtfully, and her saliva awakened unknown flavors in the blanket--dry and choking flavor of dust, sour taste of age, of years spent in closet. Maybe the monsters didn't exist.

"Mommy is a poo," she said outloud, watching the eyes carefully. They narrowed slightly at the sound but remained exactly where they were. More confident now that maybe the monster wouldn't get her tonight, Rachael continued to talk.

"I hate her," she confided. "I want...not Mommy." Maybe tomorrow...but now was now. "Who are you?"

The eyes got smaller--were they backing away or maybe just squinting? Rachael wasn't sure. "I'm Rachael." No response from the eyes. "You're scary."

A low growl vibrated out of the crevice in the wall, filling the room with echoes of grumbling rumbles. Rachael felt the sound surround her, close her in, and she could hear nothing but the roar, going on forever--why didn't Mommy come? Did she not care about her? Eventually the roar stopped, but Rachael still heard it in her head, fading away slowly. A drop of sweat dripped down her back and onto the floor, and Rachael bundled her head in the blanket. She couldn't see the monster.

When she finally dared to emerge from her cocoon, the monster could no longer be seen.

Mya yawned widely, not even bothering to cover her mouth. What for, if no one else was there and Dante couldn''t see her? Besides, the infant had plenty of entertainment for herself, so she wouldn''t pay attention to her either. Mya had the distinct impression that, if Dante was given something that was new or really interesting, the girl would be able to go and analyze, play, do everything possible with it for more than 24 hours straight. Not having something like that for herself though, nor being that willing to spend her energy with something like that, Mya was bored, bored, bored. If no one showed up in the next five minutes, she''d leave...

Dante, however, didn''t mind the time, completely entertainned. Mya had brought with her a cube of stained glass, and, despite not being able to see it shinning (which probably would attract her), Dante really liked the slightly striped, smooth and cold surface, throwing it to the air, catching it dextrously after, spinning it one her hands. Just like that.

Eamane pushed the door of Hea Quarters open with her hip, as her arms were once again filled with Tirio. "WE''re here" she told the little girl" before even looking around. Spotting Mya she smiled and hurried over placing Tiri on the ground beside Dante

Tiri tilted her head "who there?" she asked.

Oh, I hate the little kid. Little monster, thinks she owns the house, not like it was a good house but still! It was a house nonetheless, the only place that Rii had been able to find shelter in, shelter from the stupid people and the idiotic employers that she was cursed with and all the hurrying flurries of life. And now The Company Of Doom had chosen to bestow upon her a perfect demon, probably so that Rii wouldn''t have a single moment of peace ever again. Ever, ever, ever.

The carrot-head girl allowed a few tears to drip off her slightly-aquiline nose remorsefully as she doused herself in self-pity. Oh, woe was her. She had never asked to be a guardian, had she? No. Had she chosen to engage in mental torture every hour of the day, to listen to the ear-piercing shrieks and stormy wails of a tantrum-throwing infant? To feed the mouth of another on her meagar salary? No, no, no! It was the company''s fault. As usual.

If she weren''t so indebted to INK inc., she''d quit. Now.

The little hand tugged in her grip, and Rii forced herself to concentrate on the world at hand as shrill tones lanced through her ears painfully. "Mommeeeeeeeee. Are we nearly THERE YET?"

"No, you little idiot, shaddup."

Rachael found this reply quite disheartening. "MOMMY. I want to SHOP."

What the hell. This little--two-year old? Three-year old?--Rii wasn''t sure she wanted to know how old her charge was--could barely count to one hundred and already she knew the word ''shop''. Oh, infernal barbs of current-day mass-media.

"MOMMY!"

"No, don''t call me mommy. I don''t want to be associated with you." Rii allowed herself to fill these words with as much scorn as she could. Well, okay, she couldn''t help but be associated with the demon, with all this namby-pamby HAND-HOLDING stuff and whatnot, but that didn''t mean she liked it.

"But..."

"No buts! We''re going to...er....somewhere. But not shopping."

"Where, then?"

Rii wasn''t sure either but she wasn''t about to say this. "Somewhere." Feeling the soft bubble that marked world-shifting begin to close about her, she closed her eyes gently, reaching for the seed of serene bliss that she could sense moving in the distance, allowing herself to float quietly. She intended to prolong this hovering peace as long as she could.

"MOMMY!"

Not again. Rii found herself jolted back into the real world. Well, another real world anyway. Although it looked exactly the same as before, she could feel the tendrils of slight-differences nagging at her--a brighter streetlight here, a dark alley formerly nonexistant there. A nondescripit, professional-looking house-thing over thereish.

Speaking of the latter, time to go in. She felt it pulling at her, just as it tugged her gaze to open door, through which an adult tugging another child had just vanished. "Hey, lookie, little twerp! Let''s go and...er...surprise someone!"

She wasn''t sure what she was going in FOR, but there you go. Yanking a protesting Rachael towards the house, she turned the handle and ducked inside. "Hey. Anyone HERE?"

She spotted some people. Er. Whatever. Rachael was tugging at her hand once more, demanding to go shopping.

"Fine! FINE!" She yelled at her charge, blustering and red in embarrassment. "Er, I''ll come back again?"--this last to the inhabitants of the room. A fluttery wave, a worried and apologetic smile, and smouldering, angry Rii bounded out the door, led by Rachael, across the street and into a colorful shop filled with sparkling clothes.

"Hey, hey!" It was too late. The girl had gone in.

She chanced one last glance at the house-over-thereish, and then turned back to the business at hand--getting Rachael out of there.

Rael meets Mos; she discovers the joy of hugs, and the pain that such contact causes her. A few memories are unveiled, and we find that Rael reacts negatively to blood.