Alia

 

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Alia's Escape

 

 

Alia

Part One: Alia's Escape

 

            "I'm leaving," I tell myself, my voice high and breathy with excitement. I love the sound of those words. They make me think of fresh air in open fields, of people who've never heard of me, of endless possibilities.

            "I'm leaving. I'm leaving. I'm leaving. I'm leaving," I sing, looking around the house for one of the last times. The relief I feel at never having to see these overbearing walls again is overwhelming. Tomorrow I'll be in a completely different place, if I succeed. I should succeed. I know I'm capable of getting out of here. I'm the only thing keeping myself in this merry-go-round existence. I can do this. Even as I think this, I feel as if I've been punched in the stomach and my brain feels swollen, like it's trying to burst out of my skull.

            "I'm leaving," I repeat once more, my voice breaking with uncertainty. I look around the house again, the place that's been my prison for so long. The room seems to darken, its thick walls and high roof giving me the same small, hopeless feeling I felt when I was first brought here. I can still close my eyes and relive that night.

            It was a little after midnight. The only light came from torches on the walls, burned down to barely more than candles. The place looked like an endless cavern. I was sure once I stepped inside the wall behind me would collapse and I'd be trapped there forever, forgotten by the outside world as they lived their lives, oblivious to my suffering.

            The wall still stands, but I'm stuck here anyway, my spirit suffocating and withering away. Even now, as my gaze travels to the door, my gut tells me to give up; leaving's impossible. The voice in the back of my head repeats with increasing urgency that I need to stop thinking about escape. I worry if I think about it too much the concrete under my feet will turn into quicksand and pull me down, away from any chance at freedom. If I fail I won't see the sun again for who knows how long. If I get caught I can expect to spend the next six months chained up in a dark room until I 'can be trusted again.'

            If I don't succeed, my husband will be furious with me. I'll end up in the hospital again and if I ever recover people will glare at me and ask why I would hurt my poor, unappreciated husband like that. "What could possibly make you want to break his heart? Is it because of how he looks? It is because of his bad leg? Why are you so selfish? Can't you see how much he loves you?"

            Those questions come from the same people who make rude comments about me when they know I can hear them and later call me a snob for not going to every meaningless event they throw. Obviously I should use the few opportunities a month I get to leave the house spending time with people who don't even like me. I try to take every chance I get to go outside, but with all the whispers and stares I get some days it doesn't seem worth it. I've made very few friends during my twenty five years here.

            Every day I spend in this place makes it more and more clear I don't belong here. If I leave, I'll have the chance to have a home. I'll have the chance to make real friends. I'll have the chance to have a life.

            I force myself to walk to the door. My husband sealed it shut using a large metal lock with thin rods sticking out of it, causing it to resemble a spider. I pull at them, but predictably, nothing happens. It's time to try out what I've been practicing. I close my eyes and focus on the lock. It connects to a complex device reaching deep into the wall. I'm not going to attempt to pick the lock. I'm pretty sure my husband designed it so it would shock anyone who didn't have a key and know exactly how to move the rods. Once I heard someone trying to open the door, followed by a loud zap and blue light. I never learned who was at the door, what happened to them, or why they were trying to enter the house.

            My eyes still closed, I imagine the lock floating free from the door and landing gently on the coffee table. The house remains silent. I picture it moving towards the coffee table again, but still don't hear anything. Panic turns my blood to ice and causes my teeth to chatter. I try several more times, with the same results. My stomach sinking, I hope for a miracle, something I've always known better than to believe in. I slowly open my eyes, stretching out the last few moments before my dreams are crushed and I go back to sitting around the house all the time, hoping every day will be my last.

            The first thing I notice is light. Sunlight, coming through the jagged hole in the door. A wave of relief washes over me, so strong my knees almost give out. I pull the door open, half expecting to see my husband standing on the other side, a scowl on his face and a hammer in his hand, ready to shatter my legs so I can never run away again.

            The neighbourhood is empty and so still it might as well be a painting. I take a second to gather my courage, then dash out the door and run as fast as I can down the street. I know the security cameras my husband placed outside have seen me leave. I need to get as far away as possible before they alert him. Hopefully he's working on a project. Sometimes when he's really wrapped up in his work he doesn't come back to the house for a few days. I love when he's not there; for a short time I get to feel safe in my own room, but knowing he could come back any minute keeps my spirits down.

            I turn onto a busier street and slow my pace to a walk to avoid attracting attention. I make my way towards the centre of town, looking straight ahead and avoiding eye contact to deter people who might want to make small talk. Not that people talk to me. They usually just whisper and stare, making me feel like an animal in a cage.

            I've almost reached my destination when a voice calls out "Hey, Aphrie!" I debate whether or not to keep walking and pretend I didn't hear. This might be the last time I get to see my friend. However, if I do talk to him he could tell my husband he saw me walking this way. He wouldn't be trying to get me in trouble; he just doesn't know how my husband treats me when no one's there to witness.

            I decide it's worth the risk and turn around, plastering on a fake smile. "Hi! How are you today?" To me my voice sounds too cheerful, like a cartoon character. I hope he doesn't notice. It pains me I'll never see He— I mean, my friend again. I'll have to stop thinking my friends' names. I hope if I do I'll miss them less and forget them sooner.

            My friend lands in front of me, a big grin on his face. "I'm doing great, thanks! How are you? I don't see you outside often. It's a nice change." He laughs, hoping I'm not hurt by his implying I spend most on my time inside. I love my friends, but sometimes I wish they'd stop babying me so much.

            "I'm doing fairly good, thanks. It's been a rather busy day," I reply, hoping he takes the hint.

            He laughs again. "Oh, I know what you mean. Last week I had thirty two unaddressed letters. Thirty two! Seriously, do these people think I'm a mind reader or something? And it wasn't a slow day, either. I had plenty of other peoples' letters to deliver. I ended up deciding to just deliver the ones that actually had addresses on them and figure the rest out later. Anyway, I was almost done delivering the letters when an absolutely livid woman storms up to me. To be honest, I was a bit scared. I mean, she wasn't that big, but she looked like she was ready to strangle someone. I put on the understanding smile I always use when dealing with difficult people and brace myself for whatever she's going to yell. That's when things got weird. She took a chicken corpse out  of her purse. An actual dead chicken. It didn't look like it was recently deceased, either. So, waving this rotting carcass in my face, she starts going on a rant about—"

            "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I really need to go. My friend's in the hospital after eating some strange plant and making out with a cactus. Spines everywhere. It's not looking good," I lie. He opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off again. "Anyway, like I said, I have to run. I'd love to hear the rest of your story later."

            "Okay," he replies, holding out his arms. "I hope your friend gets well soon."

            "Thanks." A knot of guilt forms in my stomach for leaving without telling him, but he talks so much to so many people there's a chance he could say something that could lead to someone finding me once they realise I've disappeared. I can't look him in the eyes as I mutter "Goodbye. If you ever see me again call me Alia."

            My friend looks understandably confused. "I thought you were going—" I don't hear the rest because I'm now behind a building down the street. I didn't think that would work. I've only teleported a few times, all during the same day. I haven't been able to teleport since, not even when I was trapped in the house, the doors locked, the windows sealed, and I could hear heavy, uneven footsteps getting closer to my hiding spot. Not even when I could smell smoky breath and hear awful words and all I could do was close my eyes, curl into a ball, and hope my husband leaves me alone. I'm not sure why I can teleport now. Though the ability to get out of conversations is neat, there were other situations I would've given nearly anything to be able to teleport away from.

            A few minutes later I arrive at a towering mansion made of shining marble. I climb up the steps and peek around the door. Inside, a receptionist stares at the papers on his desk, his face blank and eyes dead.

            He hears the door close as I step inside and slowly raises his head. "Do you have an appointment?" he mumbles. His pen rolls off his desk, but he doesn't seem to notice.

            "Nope," I reply and walk through a side door before he can work up the energy to ask anything else. I hope he's too tired to call security. I wander around the mansion, making countless turns and stopping every so often to check if I recognise my surroundings. I pass a few servants, but none of them pay any attention to me.

            After around twenty minutes of walking around, my path gets blocked by two guards. They're not particularly large, but since they're both armed I doubt I'll be able to push past them. "You're not allowed to go there," the one on the left tells me.

            I give them my best smile. "Yes I am." If I'm polite and appear confident enough maybe they won't ask too many questions.

            "Okay." The one on the right moves out of my way. That was a lot easier than I expected. Perhaps someone important has gone away.

            The one on the left shoots him a dirty look and moves to block my path. "Larisso, we were given strict orders to keep her here. I'm not getting in trouble because of your negligence."

            "I really need to go," I tell them, eager to get away from whoever gave those orders. I have a feeling I know who it is and if I'm right I don't want to stick around.

            The one on the left opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by horrible screeching. "What are you doing in my house?!" I turn around to see a woman in a fancy peacock patterned robe and enough jewellery to make a thief's year barrelling towards me.

            She stops just short of crashing into me and gives me one of her famous death glares. "Your cheeks turn a pretty shade of red when you're angry," I comment, not knowing what to say. Judging by her expression I think I should've stayed silent.

            "What. Are You. Doing. In. My. House," she growls through clenched teeth.

            "Wh— why, why can't a girl visit her mother-in-law?" I ask, my voice too high. My body's turned cold and I feel like I've been punched in my stomach.

            She takes another step towards me, her eyes boring into my skull. "Look, whore, you will tell me exactly what you're up to or I will make up a story for your husband that will get your pretty little face beaten until your head's barely the size of an orange."

            My stomach churns and my mouth fills with saliva, like it does before you vomit. I hope I don't throw up on her. She'd never forgive me. The only way I can think of getting out of this is making her so angry she'll have to leave to compose herself and figure out how to make my life a thousand times worse. I try my best to put on a confused expression and keep my voice steady. "Obviously I'm here to trash your home and destroy all of your prized possessions. After all, my sole purpose in life is making yours miserable. Every morning, my first thought is always 'What would ruin my mother-in-law's day'"

            I don't think that was as offensive as I planned it to be, but her face twists in outrage. She raises a hand to slap me, but instead falls to the floor in a pile of expensive fabrics, unconscious. I had no idea I could do that. That's never happened before. Putting people to sleep is another ability I wish I would have been able to use against my husband. I turn to the guards. "Can I please get by now?"

            They step aside, but as I walk by the one on the left grabs my arm. "Shouldn't we arrest her?"

            The one on the right, Larisso, I think, shrugs. "I don't see why."

            "Well... I..." The one on the left lowers his voice. "Didn't she just knock out the Queen?" He seems stunned and a bit bewildered, which I hope will work to my advantage.

            "Huh. I guess we'll never know," I reply before trying once again to get past the guards. Unfortunately the one on the left is still attached to my arm. I attempt to glare at him.

            "You're under arrest," he states, sounding unsure of that himself.

            He passes out. "No, I'm not," I mutter. I glance at Larisso, who's backed up against the wall and appears to be debating whether or not to run. He motions for me to continue on my way.

            After fifteen more minutes of running through this labyrinth, I'm finally here. My old room. I hesitate outside the door, wondering how much they've changed it. After twenty five years it's probably been turned into a storage room, or perhaps a servant's bedroom. Either way, it still should work. I should feel happy and content like I did when I was brought here, a few days old and unaware my 'parents' were deciding who to give me to. I entered this world fully grown physically, but in my mind I've always wanted the chance to be a child.

            I tap on the door. When no one answers I slowly open it, peering around my old room. Sunlight pours in through a window on the far wall, revealing a thin layer of dust on an empty bookshelf and peeling nightstand. The only other furniture in my room is a small, neatly made bed. Besides the absence of some hastily chosen toys, and guards to make sure I don't run away or go exploring, it's exactly how I remember it. Looking back, there were plenty of signs my stay was only temporary.

            Closing the door behind me, I walk across my room and sit on the bed, wrinkling the cream coloured sheets for the first time in years. I close my eyes and concentrate on a pond in a forest, where birds sing and squirrels play. At night silver moonlight trickles through the thick leaves and dances on the surface of the water as the melody of the wind lulls me to sleep.

            I can picture the place clearly in my mind and almost smell the spring blossoms when it disappears; my mind turns blank and thoughts dark. I attempt to recreate images of the pond, trying to cling to the last wisps of peace and serenity. I start sobbing and silently curse myself. This isn't the time for crying. Why am I so upset? Why does it bother me so much that a mean old lady tried to slap me?

            I try to tell myself I'm overreacting; I'm being stupid, but I know the real reason why I'm breaking down. All images of my peaceful pond, my safe place are gone, replaced by memories of fear and darkness. Of pain, of fists connected to much stronger arms flying towards me, of being shaken and thrown against walls. Memories of being screamed at, the words 'stupid,' 'useless,' and 'worthless' repeating themselves over and over in my mind.

            A memory of waking up in a cold room, my mind foggy and my hands and legs chained down. A memory of the scrape of a heavy hammer being dragged across the floor and the sight of it being lifted above me. A memory of pure panic, of struggling to break free from my bonds and shield my unborn child from the blow aimed directly at my huge, round stomach.

            Choking back sobs, I clench my hands into tight fists around the soft fabric of my sheets. My baby. He hurt my baby... I can't go back. I can't ever go back there. I can't. I can't. I can't. I...

            My heart pounds against my rib cage and I hear myself panting like a crazed animal. The room around me blurs as clouds fog my vision. My baby... He— he... killed... my baby... He put the hammer down, said he wouldn't really hurt her, but more than a decade later he changes his mind and now my baby's dead. I can't go back. I can never go back. My baby...

            Just as the pressure in my chest builds up to the point where I feel like I'll explode I realise the bed's no longer underneath me. My vision gradually clears as I calm down and notice I'm in a forest. Looking around, I think I recognise where I am and sure enough, through the trees I can see the glitter of the sun reflecting off the surface of the pond. That pond's the only place I feel safe. I've always felt some sort of power there. Sometimes I'd be able to move small logs and rocks with my mind, and sometimes, when the forest is silent and not a single leaf moves I think I can feel the presence of other worlds, close, but inaccessible. If I can get to the pond and concentrate really hard, maybe I'll find myself in one of those worlds. If not, I'm pretty sure I've almost got the lock off the knife drawer. Eighth times the charm. This time I'll aim for my heart and neck instead of focusing on blood loss.

            I rise to my feet. I'm so close to leaving. Running at full speed towards the pond, I don't notice the massive object plummeting towards the ground or hear the shrill scream of "Hit the breaks!" until it crashes next to me, knocking me off my feet, destroying my perfect pond.

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Alia's Acquaintance

Alia

Part Two: Alia's Acquaintance

 

            I slam against a tree and fall to Earth where I lie, unmoving. Mud drags me down, its weight pinning me to the ground, where it blindfolds me. At first I hear nothing except ringing in my ears, but after a minute I hear a low rumbling and loud thud. A door opens and closes.

            "That. Was. AWESOME!" a voice shouts. No one responds. I'm not sure if it's the mud in my ears, but to me the forest is silent. "Whoa, look how big the hole we made is! We could fit, like, five hundred mes in there!" the voice continues. "I'm going to jump in it!" I hear a muffled splat and a faint "Ow."

            What just happened? Did that person come from the falling object? Did they crash it on purpose? Are they hurt? They sound fine. I consider trying to talk to them, but I don't want to risk them recognising me and telling someone I was here. I can't lose the only place I feel safe. 

            I'm not sure how someone who'd call falling from the sky 'awesome' and leap into a hole would react to seeing someone else, anyway. Their behaviour could be due to shock; the object must've fallen a long way to make that kind of impact, but I still want to wait until they go away to get up. I don't move and hope the mud's keeping me hidden.

            "HEY!" they shout. "Come get me out of here!" My muscles tense at the sudden noise. Are they talking to me? Do they know I'm here?

            I get my answer when I hear a tired voice speak. "What is it this ti— OH MY— Rachel... What did you do?"

            "I made a hole," Rachel replies, sounding proud of herself.

            "Yes, I can see that!" The other person sounds close to panicking, but also resigned, like Rachel's done stuff like this before. If I have to, maybe I'll be able to talk to them, since judging by how close they sound it's unlikely I'll escape unnoticed, and the other person seems more reasonable than Rachel. I wonder where they came from.

            "Then why did you ask?" grumbles Rachel. "Just get me out of this hole." The other person sighs and I hear mud squishing. 

            Figuring they're distracted, I attempt to sneak away. I roll over and try to stand up, but the mud's soaked into the many layers of my dress, causing me to fall back into the mud.

            I don't move, hoping they didn't see me, but the other person yells "What's tha— OH MY— I— I— Rachel, did you HIT SOMEONE?!" Footsteps head towards me.

            "Huh, I don't know," Rachel muses. "You'd think that I—"

            "There's a PERSON lying there! A PERSON! You— you hit a person. You hit a person. Oh, I think I'm going to be sick. Oh... my... Rachel... you hit someone. I— I can't be here. I'm not doing this. This is— It's a crime scene. I'm leaving. You figure this out on your own. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm done." The other person sounds close to hysterics, their voice high and disoriented.

            There's silence, then footsteps again. Someone pokes my shoulder. "Are you alive?" I hear Rachel's voice and struggle to push myself up, but my hands slip out from under me. She pokes me again. Unfortunately, I'm stuck in the awkward position I landed in.

            "That's not good," she mumbles. She lifts me up by my armpits and drags me backwards. I blink to clear the mud from my eyes. Once I can see again, I turn my head to try to catch a glimpse of Rachel, but get distracted by a huge crater with a person shaped imprint in the middle. She drags me past it too quickly to examine it further and lays me beside what I assume is the object that fell from the sky.

            It does seem to be a vehicle of some sort; a metal tube on wheels with long windows along the sides. I'm not sure how it moves. It's way too heavy to be operated by people; I doubt even horses could pull it.

            Rachel walks up some steps leading to a door in the side of the vehicle. The first thing I notice about her is her clothing. She's wearing a shirt and pants. I've never been allowed to wear either. I hope they'll let me wear them wherever I end up. I hate wearing dresses; they're so uncomfortable, but whenever I'd put on anything else my mother-in-law would threaten to punish me for wearing 'mens' clothes.' It'd tell her they weren't mens' clothes because they were mine and I'm not a man, but that would only make her angrier.

            "What are you doing?" I inquire.

            Rachel jumps and whips around, eyes wide. "Oh, you're lucid." She lets out a shaky laugh and moves to block my view of the small window in the door. "I was just going to take you into my little bus here and see how hurt you are. Then I would fix you up and when you got better you'd be in my debt and we'd be best friends forever. Or okay friends until I got bored of you. Or you'd resent me for bringing you onto the bus and eventually the resentment would turn into hatred and you'd be miserable and I'd be miserable and everyone would hate me and they'd all leave and—" She breaks down in tears. "Everybody always leaves me. One by one they all go away and I'll die alone." She sits on the stairs and holds her knees close to her chest.

            "Well, if they abandon you they're not real friends, I guess. I'm sure you'll find someone who'll want to stay with you," I tell her, unsure of what to say or how to help.

            Rachel instantly cheers up. "It's fine. I'll always have my, um, 'imaginary friends,' though they'll never be as good as the first ones."

            I don't want to leave Rachel by herself, but I figure the person whose voice I heard earlier is somewhere nearby. They couldn't have gotten far, unless they can fly. I look up, but all I see is the empty sky.

            I try to stand up, but the mud in my skirts has solidified and I can't move my legs. "You're stuck!" Rachel observes, excited. "Do you want to go onto my bus?!"

            "Um, yeah. Sure." I do want to leave, and Rachel definitely seems like she's from somewhere else. I figure my chances of leaving with her are better than my chances of leaving by jumping into a pond and trying to teleport to places I don't even know exist. Plus, if Rachel gets angry and turns violent I think I'd be able to beat her in a fight if she's unarmed. She doesn't look very muscular.

            Rachel beams. "Awesome!" Then she narrows her eyes. "Wait... are you a serial killer?"

            "No."

            She narrows her eyes even more. "Am I a serial killer?"

            "How should I know?" I ask. Rachel doesn't seem like a serial killer. She just has strong emotions.

            Rachel thinks for a minute. "Okay! You can come in!" She picks me up and drags me up the stairs and onto the bus. The inside looks like an assembly room. A path runs length-wise through the middle, with seven rows of seats on each side. At the front there's two doorways with thin black boxes above them. If I were to guess, I'd say they're televisions, but there's no way a television could be that thin. Where would all the wiring and other mechanical stuff go? A metal ladder sits between them, leading to a hatch in the ceiling. Through the doorways are two more seats in front of a control panel covered by buttons and levers. At the back of the bus there's another door, but it's closed.

            Rachel lays me down on a row of seats opposite from a life-sized statue. The statue's pure white, as if someone forgot to paint it, but its hair is blood red, matching the costume it's wearing. It's very realistic. I wonder where Rachel got it.

            The statue moves, startling me. It sits up and yawns, stretching its arms above its head before it turns to look at Rachel and I. Its irises, or her irises, I guess, are pitch black and besides the colour, her face is the exact same as Rachel's. If Rachel wasn't standing beside me I'd be convinced the girl was her in a costume. "Who's this?" she asks.

            "Aphro— I mean, my name is Alia. It's not my legal name, but it's what I'd like to be called please," I reply. I hope I did that right. As long as you're polite and respectful I don't think there's a wrong way to introduce yourself, but if there is I'd probably find a way to do it. Telling them my new mane creates a feeling of nervous excitement in my stomach. I really want to hear them use it.

            The statue girl gives me a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Aphro-Alia. I'm Noname. For now, at least. I'll find a real name soon."

            "My first imaginary friend! And my most responsible one, which automatically makes her the most boring. Oh well, they can't all be winners." Rachel laughs. Noname stops smiling.

            I feel my eyes starting to tear up at being called my old name and curse myself for getting upset. These people are being nice to me, a stranger. I should be thanking them, showing my gratitude, kissing the ground they walk on. Being angry at myself only makes me feel worse. I'm so stupid. "Just call me Alia, please," I whisper.

            "Her name's actually spelt 'no name.' No name! Can you believe it?" Rachel falls to the floor laughing. I don't understand why she finds that so funny.

            Noname closes her eyes and sighs, but ignores Rachel. "I'd ask if you wanted to talk somewhere else, but you seem a bit stuck.

            Rachel's eyes widen and a smile spreads over her face. "We should throw her in the pool!"

            Noname glares at her. "We're not going to—" She pauses and turns to me. "Do you want to be thrown in the pool?"

            How did they manage to fit a pool in here? I can see almost the entire bus from where I'm lying and there isn't enough room under the bus for the pool to be in the back room. "Do you have a bath tub or a shower that I might be able to use?" I inquire.

            "No, but I have a sink covered in mould! All sorts of different kinds!" Rachel beams.

            "I'd rather be thrown in the pool, but thanks for your offer."

            Rachel's face falls. She sticks out her bottom lip. "Fine. No Name, take her to the pool."

            "No-nam-e. It's No-nam-e." Noname snarls through clenched teeth. She puts one arm under my shoulder and the other one where my knees should be. "May I?"

            I nod. She picks me up and heads towards the front of the bus. Rachel trails us, grumbling. "That mould is from thousands of different universes. No one appreciates all the work I do."

            Noname stops in front of a hatch in the floor I hadn't noticed when I was carried in. She kicks it open and jumps through. We don't fall for long, just for long enough that I start to feel a scream clawing its way up its throat and choke on mud that found its way into my mouth. Noname lands effortlessly, making no noise as her feet touch the ground and I have a coughing fit. After I recover I look around the room, a long red hallway lined by doors. At the very end I see the sparkle of water.

            As soon as Noname's no longer under the hatch I hear Rachel yell "Nose dive!" followed by a hollow thud and sickeningly soft crack. "Ouch." All my muscles tense and I feel sick.

            Noname spins around, giving me whiplash. "Rachel, stop doing that. We both know you're not hurt and you're scaring, uh, what's her name... Alia! You're scaring Alia!"

            I really wish Noname wouldn't use me against Rachel. I don't want to make either of them mad. "I'm fi—" I start to tell them, but Noname clamps a hand over my mouth.

            "No, you're not. Just go along with it. Trust me, if it gets Rachel to be slightly less annoying it's worth it," she whispers.

            Rachel stands up. Her nose is smashed and lime fluid is flowing from her lips. She waves a hand over her face and it returns to normal. "You know, I can see you stopping her from speaking. It's my impulse control that occasionally doesn't work, not my eyes."

            Noname turns away from Rachel, still too quick for my liking. "No you can't!" she yells, fast-walking down the hall and bouncing me around uncomfortably.

            Craning my neck back, I glance at Rachel and see she's torn out one eye and is holding it up to her other one. To my horrified fascination, I can see the eye in her hand moving, staring at the one still in her head. "See, they work great," she mutters as she pokes the one in her hand. She blinks, or winks, I guess in surprise. Rachel kisses her eye. "So beautiful. Perfect. I won't let her insult you again." She goes back to poking her eye.

            "Turn your head around," commands Noname. "It's uncomfortable for me to hold my hand at this angle." Why won't she take her hand off my mouth? Does she not trust me? I hope I didn't make her angry. I move my head.

            Rachel must've realised how far we've gone because she shouts "Stop! Wait for me!" and runs down the hall after us. By the time she catches up we've reached the edge of the pool. She leans against Noname, out of breath. "I— I'm going to throw her in the pool," she pants.

            Noname stares straight into Rachel's eyes and drops me into the pool. I hear myself yelp in the split second before I hit the water. Submerged, time seems to slow. The mud comes free from my skin and billows up around me in a thick cloud. The water runs its hands through my hair and pulls at my dress. I close my eyes and imagine myself drifting away to my own, dark little universe, where I'm the only thing around for miles. I feel like everything's finally going to be okay.

            The water starts violently swirling around, snapping me back to reality. I fight my way to the surface and realise it's not just the pool; the whole room's shaking. Rachel's gathered a glowing lime green aura. It pulses with power, making my vision cloud up around the edges and me feel light-headed. Rachel levitates an inch or two above the ground, glaring at Noname, who stares back, indifferent.

            Rachel's voice comes out in a shrill scream. "I wanted to throw her in the pool!" The room explodes in a blinding light and a force that knocks the wind out of me. I fly through the air in the seconds before I black out.

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Alia's Dream

Alia

Part Three: Alia's Dream

 

            I wake up in a hospital bed in a body that's not mine. This body's blue. And short. And a lot younger. My mind's cloudy and energized at the same time, possibly because of the IVs in my arm.

            I'm covered head to toe by wires leading to various machines. One is definitely a heart monitor, but I don't recognise the others.

            I wonder whose body this is and why they're in the hospital. Their parents must be worried sick, since they can't be very old,  judging by both the size of the person and the decorations in their room. Colourful pictures have been pasted all over the walls. A huge stuffed animal watches me from the corner. A mobile spins in lazy circles above my head. Soft, slow music drifts through the room. I struggle to sit up without getting tangled in the wires, but hear someone coming so I abandon my efforts, lay down and closing my eyes.

            The door opens and multiple people walk into the room. "Look, the monitor shows elevated brain activity. I guess it's time to wake her." Someone puts their hand on my shoulder and gently shakes me.

            My eyes open involuntarily. Standing over me is a being whose species I've never seen before. They appear to be around the same shape I was, but their whole body's glowing brighter than a blazing inferno, though it doesn't hurt to look at them.

            The person speaks in a warm tone. "There's our special little project. You're finally awake. We've been waiting for you."

            "Mommy?" I ask without meaning to. I don't think this person's my mother. They look nothing like me and I can't tell what their gender is, if they have one. It's much more likely they're a doctor or some other hospital staff.

            The person pats my head, where I appear to have hair. I can't see it now. It must be tied back. "Yes, we all worked very hard to create you. You're not quite finished, but we're already very proud of ourselves. You're going to be our little masterpiece."

            I smile in spite of my confusion. I can't help but feel a little jealous of whoever's body I'm in. I don't believe this person will stay here long after these people are 'finished creating them,' but at least they'll have memories of being taken care of and being treated like a child.

            The other person steps forward. "We're going to take you to another room and do some tests, okay? No needles will be involved or anything scary like that. These tests are going to be fun!" Working together, they unhook me from my monitors. The one who just spoke picks me up while the other one pushes my IV holder. We walk down a spotless, empty hall. I love hospitals. I love having people ask how I feel and doing their best to ensure I'm comfortable and in as little pain as possible. I love when some of my friends come in and ask the doctor about my injuries and promise me that they'll use my hospital files as evidence against my husband so I can get a divorce. It never works. Even when I can get them to hand over the evidence they're 'keeping safe' for when they have 'enough' and bring it to my mother-in-law, who's in charge of marriages, she always tells me the same thing.

            "He's your husband. He's allowed to do whatever he wants to you. You belong to him."

            I can still here those words as clear as if she were standing in front of me, looking completely indifferent to everything her own son did to me. Speaking down to me like I'm a child throwing a temper tantrum. At least someone treats me like a child. Some days I think I might hate my mother-in-law. She's such a hypocrite. When she's upset about her marriage she tortures and kills innocent people, but no, I'm the one being overdramatic for breaking down and begging for her to give me a divorce.

 

            "Stand up and quit crying. You're acting like a child" she commanded, staring down at me with those hateful, disapproving yellow eyes.

            "I'm seven years old." I sobbed. "It's not my fault I came into this world fully grown. It- it's not my fault." She rolled her eyes and tapped her foot impatiently. I looked up at her, my vision blurred with tears. "Why do you hate me so much? What did I do?"

            She walked over to me and crouched down, holding my chin in one hand and brushing the hair out of my face. "You're one of the most pathetic things I've ever seen. The only reason you're here; the only reason anyone pays attention to you is your pretty face. No one cares about you. You have no personality. I bet your 'friends' don't like you. They probably think you're clingy and annoying and are relieved when you leave early. In fact, they probably tell your husband he lets you out too much. They only put up with you because they feel sorry for you and because they think if they treat you relatively okay for long enough they'll be able to have you trained to lie down and spread your legs in exchange for them telling you you're 'not completely worthless,' but deep down in your heart I think you know you are. You're worth nothing; your life is meaningless, so if I were you I'd be thankful that you had a husband and aren't a whore wandering the streets, willing to do anything with anyone because you're so broken you think that'll gain you their affection. Knowing you, you'd become desperately attached to every single customer and would cry when they left. My point is this: You're nothing. You don't deserve to be married to my son, so quit complaining and be grateful someone actually wants you." She tilted my head so I was looking into her eyes. In a voice coated with poisoned sugar, she asked "Do you understand now, sweetie?"

            I pulled away, stood up and silently left the room.

 

            The person carrying me puts me down in front of a mirror. I stare into it and see a four year old girl staring back with big violet eyes. Besides being blue I look like an average child. My hair has two colours, parted perfectly down the middle. On the right it's brown and wavy; on the left it's blonde and straight. I wonder what it would look like braided. Acting by itself, my hand reaches out and touches the mirror.

            The person laughs. "This look is just a placeholder. Before we send you away we'll give you a more grown up body. Unfortunately, Teila in design is a huge procrastinator and-"

            At that point I stop listening. I turn around and look at the person, my eyes watering. "But I'm a baby."

            The person stops talking and lifts me into their arms. "Of course you are. We'll send you to a place where you'll have parents who'll love you and take care of you and—"

            "No they won't!" I yell, cutting her off. "They won't! You're lying! You're going to send me to an awful, awful place filled with awful, awful people! They won't treat me like a baby! They— they'll—"

            "Shhh" the person places a finger over my mouth and rocks me gently. It starts to calm me; I muffle a yawn and feel my eyes growing heavy. As I'm rocked I look over the person's shoulder and see the other person speaking into a black rectangle, telling it to send people to this room. They're lying to me. They know the place they're sending me is populated by monsters. "It's all going to be okay." The person murmurs into my ear. I fight against the instincts telling me to jerk away. They can't know I know. My feelings of safety; of having a place I could call home, however temporary, are gone. These people who I trusted want me to willingly walk to my doom so they can watch and enjoy my pain.

            I bite their finger out of spite and burst into tears. They taste like warmth. "You hate me! You want to hurt me! You're going to send me to an evil place with a scary man and a mean woman and I try to run away but I go back to them and she hits me and he threatens me with his eyes and they make me go with a man who's so much older than me and has arms wider than my head and he—" I feel something prick me in the neck. "What are you—"

            The room rocks and I feel sleepy. My eyelids flutter shut.

            I wake up where I started. I'm on a beach. I think I've just been born. The sun's shining brightly and a breeze ruffles my hair and makes branches on nearby trees wave. I wave back. I walk up and down the beach in straight lines, fascinated by how the sand moves beneath my feet and how the waves just keep coming, but too scared of the unknown to go anywhere else. One time I turn around and see a person who wasn't there a second ago. A voice in the back of my head tells me they flew in, but they have no wings. How could they fly? I've never seen another person before. I smile at him, but as I look at him I see his head surrounded by bad, bad thoughts. Harmful thoughts. Poisonous thoughts. They fly around his head like bees around a hive, occasionally darting out to snap at the air. The swarm of bad thoughts grows larger and larger, covering the sun and turning everything dark and cold, chilling me straight to the bone. I know I need to leave. I need to get as far away from here as possible and not look back. The first time I was here I teleported away. I teleported again and again until he got tired of chasing me and the bad thoughts receded back inside his skull, writhing around his brain like maggots on a dead fish, never escaping but always hiding right under the surface.

            This time I can't teleport. My brain's still exhausted from whatever they injected me with back at the hospital. The bad thoughts surround me, blocking out all light and hope, latching on and sucking out my soul. "Please sir, I'm just a baby."

            "And I'm Nonametoo! It's nice to meet you!" I'm back in the pool room under Rachel's bus a few feet away from the edge of the pool. It didn't blow up. The pool deck is still intact. Leaning over me is a translucent girl who's skin, hair, and dress are all the same shade of yellow. The only thing that isn't is her eyes. They glow a bright orange. She also has the same face as Rachel. "You're very pretty." she adds. "I wish I had a picture of you I could hang it in my dining room so I could watch you while I eat."

            "Um, thanks." I reply. "Who are you?"

            She laughs. "I'm Nonametoo! That's No-nam-e-too! Nonametoo! I'm the one who pulled you out of the pool! And then I threw you back in! Because you were mumbling something about a hospital! So I thought you were close to drowning! But then you didn't drown, so I pulled you back out. And now we're here! I really wanted to know what someone drowning would look like, but oh well. It's still nice to meet you."

            I try to smile. "It's nice to meet you too. Do you know where Rachel is?"

            She gasps. "You know my nickname?!"

            "Your nickname?"

            "Yes! Noname's One, I'm Two, Alsononame's Three, Brandon's Grumpy-Face, and Rachel's Our Most Wonderful Supreme Commander And Overlord Of Awesomeness!" She jumps up, clapping her hands. "You know my nickname! Rachel must've told you about me! Wow, and here I was thinking that most of the time she doesn't even remember I exist!"

            "Yeah, she spoke highly of you," I lie. "Do you know where she is?"

            Nonametoo beams. "Yep! She's driving the bus! Come, follow me. I'll show you where she is." I follow her as she skips down the long highway, somehow never tripping on her dress. She climbs up the ladder and through the hatch. Once upstairs, she runs through the doorway and leaps into Rachel's lap. Rachel seems unsurprised and struggles to regain her grip on a large lever I'm guessing she uses for steering. "I love you," Nonametoo tells her.

            "I love being admired," Rachel responds.

            "Are there any towels in here?" I ask, noticing I'm creating a large puddle.

            Rachel jumps, nearly toppling Nonametoo from her lap. "Oh, right, we left that muddy girl in the swimming pool. I wo—"

            "I pulled her out!" Nonametoo chirps, lying her head on Rachel's shoulder.

            "Good. Now do me a favour and look at her. Is she pretty?"

            Nonametoo reluctantly lifts her head and examines me from head to toe, her brow furrowed in concentration, making me a little uncomfortable. "Yep! I mean, appearance-wise, at least. You can never be sure of someone's personality."

            "Alright, you can stay," Rachel tells me. "Which is good because if we kicked you out now you'd probably be lost forever." Looking out the window, all I can see is the sky filled with stars. We must be very high up. Rachel gestures at the passenger seat. "Noname, get this girl a towel."

            Noname stands up. I hadn't seen her from behind the passenger seat. Despite the explosion she looks the exact same as before. I let out a gush of air. I'm so relieved to see her. I thought she might've died. "You're alive?" I ask, despite having the answer right in front of me.

            Noname looks confused. "Yeah, I'm happy about that too."

            "I thought Rachel blew you up," I explain.

            "Blew me up?"

            "Yeah. After the explosion I thought—"

            "Explosion?"

            "After you threw me in the pool Rachel got really mad and the room exploded?" I'm becoming more and more unsure of what happened as Noname continues to look at me like I've lost my mind.

            "After I threw you in the pool Rachel made a face that made her look constipated and walked away. She didn't blow up the room. In fact, I'm pretty sure she forgot about everything less than five minutes later."

            Rachel sighs. "I love explosions."

            I frown. "But she was glowing bright green and she yelled—"

            "And I never look constipated," adds Rachel.

            Noname rolls her eyes. "Shut up, Rachel," she mutters, then turns back to me. "It was probably from the lack of, um, whatever the things from your universe breathe."

            "But I don't ne—" I start, but Rachel interrupts me.

            "Shut up?! And deprive this bus of my beautiful voice? What? Oh, perish the thought! You may not appreciate the treasure that is my vocal cords, but surely Nonametoo and Al— Allie— Allizard— Oh whatever, surely Nonametoo and mud girl must!"

            "It's Alia," I mumble, going unheard. I look back at Noname. "I don't need to bre—"

            "Your voice is one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard." Nonametoo tells Rachel, running a hand through her hair. "You are perfect in every way. Please, speak as much as you want. I'll always listen."

            "I cannot wait until she gets put away." Noname opens the floor hatch. "Here, lets go somewhere you can actually get a sentence in. You're way too polite." I follow her down the ladder, closing the hatch behind me. Halfway down she asks "If you don't need to breathe, why's you pass out?"

            "...Because of the explosion," I answer, knowing she doesn't believe there was an explosion, but having no other explanation.

            There's silence for a minute. "Whatever," she replies. "Oh, and are you allergic to water or something? When you were in the pool, after you passed out, you started twitching like crazy and... almost teleporting around the pool? One second you were on one side and the next you were on the other. That's, um that's why I left you unconscious in the water. Well, that and I didn't want to leave Rachel alone. She can be... unpredictable. Also, I figured if there was some invisible pool monster I wasn't going to risk my life for a stranger. You understand, right?"

            "Yeah," I give her a small smile. "And no, I'm not allergic to water. I'm not sure what happened." She nods and leads me to a room, which is completely empty except for a set of double doors in the side wall. She opens them. Inside is a small closet practically overflowing with red and black fabrics. Noname takes out a handful and tosses them on me.

            "Here, dry yourself with these. There's more clothes in the closet. You can change into them after." She leaves, closing the door behind her.

            I remove a jacket from my head and a shirt from my shoulder before stepping over the clothes piled around my feet to examine the contents of Noname's closet. She doesn't seem to have much variety in the colours she wears; there isn't a single item that isn't red or black. Most of the red's the same shade as her hair. I remove my clothing and dry myself with a badly ripped jacket I don't know why Noname still has. Rummaging through Noname's closet I find a plethora of unusual clothing items, but settle on a red short sleeved shirt and black leggings with black shorts on top with black running shoes and red socks. I figure these will be the best if I need to move fast. I fold all of the clothes I took out and carefully put them back inside Noname's closet before spreading my wet clothing on the floor.

            I exit the room and Noname looks me up and down. "Everything in the closet and that's all you're wearing?" she asks. "Oh well, to each their own." She starts walking towards the ladder. "We should go back up. I don't want to leave Rachel alone any longer."

            I start to remind her Nonametoo's with Rachel, but think better of it. If Rachel was planning to do something stupid Nonametoo would probably cheer her on.

            As soon as I go through the hatch the bus shakes, sending Noname flying into me, nearly knocking me back down the ladder.

            "I didn't do anything. I'm sorry!" I plead, curling into a ball.

            "What's going on?!" Noname yells, getting off my stomach.

            "I don't know. I don't know," I sob. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." I can no longer see the bus, instead everything's blurry and the same dark grey as my husband's house.

            "IT'S THE POLICE! THEY'RE AFTER US!" Rachel answers from the control room, bringing me back to reality.

            "How did they get police here?" I wonder out loud, still slightly dazed.

            I follow Noname as she runs into the control room. She races to the passenger seat, where Nonametoo's sitting. "Move." Noname commands. Nonametoo hisses at her, baring her teeth. Noname glares back. "Get out of my chair," she repeats. Nonametoo looks her in the eye and hugs the chair with all four limbs.

            "Nonametoo, get out of Noname's chair." Rachel tells her, eyes glued to the windshield. "And don't pee on it this time!"

            Nonametoo screws up her face in concentration and lets out a trombone-like fart before disappearing into thin air. I stare at the empty seat. Did she just teleport? If she can teleport can Noname and Rachel? Where did she go?

            Noname wrinkles her nose. She hovers above the chair for a few seconds before sitting at the very edge. She presses a button on the control panel, causing the rest of it to light up. "Rachel, stop the bus."

            "I CAN'T STOP THE BUS! THE POLICE ARE EVERYWHERE!" Rachel screams.

            "That's why you should—" Noname sighs, hitting her forehead. She turns on a screen on the control panel. After one glance at it she glares at Rachel, eyes blazing. "Rachel, that's Lilah."

            "THE LILAHS ARE EVERYWHERE!" Rachel corrects herself.

            "No Rachel, that's our... um... friend, Lilah. Remember? The one who tells us everything we do is going to kill us. Look, Rachel. Just pull over." Noname hits as many buttons as she can, but they don't seem to be doing anything.

            "THERE IS NO PULLING OVER! I'LL NEVER GIVE IN!"

            Noname starts hitting the buttons more franticly, trying to find the one that will stop the bus. Rachel reaches to her left and flips a switch. The lights on Noname's side turn off. "HA HA, YOU'VE BEEN DEACTIVATED," Rachel announces in monotone.

            "RACHEL, TURN OFF THE BUS!" Noname shouts, the last strands of her patience tearing.

            "I'D RATHER DIE THAN FACE DEFEAT!"

            Noname runs to Rachel, grabs her by the hair and tries to pull her out of the driver's seat, but disappears as soon as she tries tugging.

            "I'M UNSTOPPABLE!" Rachel screams. "CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, LILAH! WE'RE GOING DOWN!"

            "Wha—" I start to ask, but the bus tilts downwards and starts descending rapidly. I fly into the back wall and everything goes black.

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Alia's Mind

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Alia's Flashback

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Alia's Cage

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Alia's Test

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Alia's Return

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Alia's Friend

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Alia's Caretaker

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Alia's Attempt

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Alia's Home

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Alia's Baby

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Alia's Capture

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~

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