Chapter 1-Erin

I’ve been in the back of this van for who knows how long. It’s very uncomfortable, actually. I don’t like getting jostled as the car either lurches forward or screeches to a stop. I haven’t the faintest idea why, but this whole kidnapping affair seems somewhat nostalgic. The door at the side opens, and I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. Suddenly, some men grunt, and my body is lifted into the air. Dangling limply from their careless arms, I allow myself to be carried with as much dignity as possible. Some people can be plain rude, but I put up with it anyways. Listening intently as they roughly set me down, I pick up several lines of a muted conversation.

“Look, we can’t just ring the bell. It’s a mental hospital. They’ll want information. What do you want to do?” A deep, baritone voice carries out into the empty air.
“What if she dies? Hypothermia or something along those lines,” a higher, more youthful, but still obviously male voice asks in mild concern.
Exasperated, the latter replies, “Sure isn’t my problem. We were supposed to get this abomination here, and I think we have. Let’s get back before someone shows up. It’ll be a mess if we get caught. ”
“But-!” The younger man cuts off his sentence with a grunt of pain, and I hear the other’s loud, frustrated retort.
“If you want to risk everything for this thing then do it. But I’m out of here.”

There’s quite a bit of unbroken silence for a while, but it doesn’t last. I hear the car peel away quickly, the tires screeching loudly. Those idiots. What am I supposed to do now? Obviously, I’d been… ditched here, but I had nowhere to go. To top it all off, I’m starting to lose consciousness. Looks like the weird pills those goons forced into me a few minutes prior was knock-out medication. Suddenly exhausted, I cave to the sounds of screaming.


Everything is black for miles around. She appears and stares. I open my eyes. She’s suddenly gone. Instead, there is a nurse, pressing a wet cloth to my damp forehead. It feels nice and cool. The lady sees me, and smiles gently. “Hello, there. You’ll be safe here. It’s okay if you want to sit up, dear.” I accept her offer, gladly stretching my aching body. She continues to smile at me and begins to hum a catchy tune. Despite this display of friendliness, I show no emotion on my face, although my insides are jumping at the prospect of possibly making a new friend. Instead, I bore my eyes into the nurse’s and I see her shocked expression at how red mine are.

No one has red eyes; not even me. I have auburn colored eyes, which are more red than brown. My eyes are the only part of my appearance I actually like. Ultimately, I suppose I look like what one would expect a malnourished 15-year-old girl to look like. My hair is stringy, lank, and dull black. It droops limply down just past my shoulders. I have thin cheekbones that sink into my face, making me look skinnier than I actually am. I’m still rather bony for my age, though.

The woman steps outside, obviously a little unnerved, leaving me under the watch of about a dozen video cameras. I knew it. She didn’t want to be my friend anyways. Despite the knowledge, I feel some sense of betrayal and let out a loud huff. I have a splitting headache, and I just really want some good, quiet, napping time. I don’t see that happening anytime soon, though, so, instead, I close my eyes and begin to wander. Much to my surprise, my consciousness steadily fades.

Occasionally, when I’ve had a rather stressful day, the fatigue makes it impossible for my brain to really think. However, there are also those days where my mind is racing ten million miles in a single second, even as my body fights for rest. This is one of those days, and I suddenly snap awake. I look up and find that she is staring down at me, as if sitting on an invisible cloud.
Uncomfortable under her intent gaze, I take in where I am. Everything is gone. It’s eerie. Like I’m standing on air, but I can feel the floor, but there is no floor. There’s nothing, in fact. Just darkness, but I can still see everything. Weird. My eyes find the girl’s, and she grins widely.

“You’ve been asleep for quite a while, you know,” she smiles softly. Her smile is not one of gentleness, but more of a smirk, displaying a different trait altogether that I can’t quite place my finger on. I reply, “I didn’t know that there was a time limit.”

This time, she sneers, and “Well, the longer you sleep the better it is for me.”

“Why do you care about how long I sleep, then?”

“Ha! That’s like asking why people die! They just do, even if others don’t want them to. Likewise, I care, even if you don’t want me to…”

I must admit, this girl does have an excellent point. Quietly, she swings her lithe legs back and forth in a motion that reminds me of a pendulum, swinging back and forth, back and forth… Then, she begins talking again, but I don’t hear anything she says because of my tiredness. I think she realizes this, because she lets out a sharp cackle, then, much to my shock, quickly leans down the large expanse and clamps her hands over my eyes. Then, her voice whispers in my ear quietly. It’s almost as if she’s speaking as my own thoughts. “Sleep, my sweet little puppet… sleep…”
I open my eyes again, and everything comes back. The machines, nurses, and, the endless, yet tangible whiteness of the space. However, the girl has disappeared, and instead, a plump man wearing a plain brown suit comes into the little room; a briefcase is in his hand, and a hat matching his suit rests on a bed of extremely short black hair. The hat hangs lopsided on his head, precariously balancing on a single edge. He’s sweating profusely, and his stomach spills slightly over his pants, dripping small droplets of perspiration onto the floor. I scoot my blankets over, not wanting to get the sweat onto the clean cotton. “Hello, my name is Detective Scotts, and I’m here to ask you-”

“Oh, come on Scotts. Be a little less serious! She looks frightened to death. Hi, sweetie. My name is Mrs. Carol, and we’re just going to ask you some questions and you answer them the best you can, all right, honey?” The first thing I notice about her is her age. A leathery, wrinkly, old hag stands before me. She has dirty blonde hair, a sour mouth, and a twitching eyelid. I blink hard while Mrs. Carol requests my release for questions. Detective Scotts refuses, saying something about being concerned for safety. Immediately, I ask, “Is there something dangerous where we’re going?” Mrs. Carol nudges Detective Scotts, and he appears to grudgingly give in, and nods his head towards… security guards. I have no idea what they are for, but they come towards me.

Mrs. Carol jabbers on and on about one thing or another to Detective Scotts, but I soon lose interest in the conversation and begin to tune them out. Although I do catch some words like “Child Protection Services” and “underage,” but that’s really it. Detective Scotts keeps me in his peripheral vision at all times, which is actually rather annoying. I reach up to scratch my nose, when I hear a sharp sound. Startled, I look around, to see what made the noise. Detective Scotts has his gun out of its holster, and so do several security guards. Mrs. Carol turns around, shooing their weapons away. Something clicks in the back of my mind, and I black out.


When I wake up, I’m inside the same room as before. Someone is watching from the window, and hurries away as soon as they catch my eye. I’m rather hungry, but I don’t see any food. My stomach grumbles a bit, but I tell it to be quiet. It’s not like I’m starving. I hear the sound of high heels clacking loudly against the floor, and Mrs. Carol comes in, accompanied by a few security people. They seem weary and cautious, but almost everyone here has that look about them. She smiles, displaying her disgusting yellow teeth, and says, “Hi, Eris. It’s Mrs. Carol. Your first session is today. If you would like, I can take you there.” Her breath stinks, but despite that, I’m very shocked because she called me Eris. No one calls me Eris. My name is Erin. Where did they get a name like that?

Without waiting for an answer from me, she gestures for me to follow her, and I do. Mrs. Carol leads me out of the comfortable room into a hallway with a gait oozing with pompous authority. She stops abruptly in front of a door almost immediately, and says, “You can enter whenever you’re ready, dear.” Quietly, I open the door in front of me. It slides smoothly, without any noise. Suddenly, a warm hand firmly grips my own freezing one. “Well, howdy do. Call me May. I’m the interviewer. I work for Slice! Magazines and News. Mrs. Carol said something about some interviews and how it would be a big privilege to do something like this, right? Well, I’m going to be interviewing you for about two or so weeks. Basically, I’m writing an article, and I need your help.”

Bewildered, I simply nod my head to everything this person said, although I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about. She has a personality that exudes hyperactivity, joyfulness, and general eagerness. At the same time, she seems to be very serious, holding a pen and pad carefully in a hand. Her hair is a luscious honey color, golden and wavy down to the middle of her small frame. She wore what might be considered “trendy” clothes, but having been in unflattering, itchy, polyester material my entire life, I wouldn’t know. Her eyes are as deep and clear as the sea after a violent storm; they’re still deadly, but calm and gentle.

She says, “So, what’s your name?” Her voice is coaxing and comforting. “Um… you can call me… Erin. Erin…” I stutter, tripping over my words.

Eyes glowing excitedly, she jots down a couple of notes. “Erin. What a nice name. Well, do you like your name?”
I nod, and respond, “I like how it’s nice and short, although it isn’t as short as yours… I guess it’s also easy for me to remember, and not too unique, so it’s not like I’ll draw attention or anything.”
“So you mean you feel as if you need to blend in with the crowd?”
“Not necessarily… I mean, it’s better to blend in than to stick out, right?”
“I see… well, can you describe why you think that, or…?”
“Um… I don’t know, it’s more like, if you stick out a lot it’s not a good thing…? I think I heard that somewhere… blend in as much as you can?”
“I see… Alright, next question! What’s your favorite color?”
“My favorite color would be… um, is white a color?” I bite my lip, trying to remember if it is. I know that either white or black isn’t a color.
“Sure, I’ll count it as one. Can you tell me why…?”

Over the next few hours, May fires questions at me until I’m sure that there are no more questions in this world to be asked. She has used all the paper she brought, along with what the people here could provide. She just wouldn’t stop talking; it was like one of those tests where you spit out the first words that come to mind. After those long inquiries, the security guards escort her out the door.
I put my head down on the desk, slightly exhausted after the heated questioning. Yet, I am very happy. She could be my friend. I’ve always really wanted a friend. Giddy, I grin to myself a little. Lifting my head a little, I see Detective Scotts and Mrs. Carol arguing, but it’s hard to make out the words. And angry finger is pointed at me, and Mrs. Carol vehemently shakes her head angrily. Intrigued, I stand up and begin to walk over to where they are, the pleasant smile still on my face. Detective Scotts sees me move and shouts, “Sedate her! What, are you people insane? She’s going to kill us all!” Several people wearing practically the same outfit rush around me, and I stare around, confused. A woman comes up and stabs a hypodermic needle attached to a syringe into my arm, and pushes the plunger down, a clear liquid entering my body.
Eyes flashing, I blank out as all thoughts exist my mind but one. KILL. I struggle as the people crowd me, lashing out with my limbs. But the more I kick and flail about, the more tired I feel. In spite of the anger pumping through my veins, I soon become fatigued and slump to the ground. The last thing I feel is the cool floor against the hot flesh of my cheek.

Chapter 2-Eris

Over the years, several different people have given me with different names, but only one has ever fit my tastes in any way. The name came from none other than Ms. Eveleen, after seeing that I did bring disorder and chaos wherever I went, much like the goddess of strife herself.
I do not consider myself to be a goddess, but that doesn’t mean I lower myself to please others. That has never been in my nature, and despite the many times since my “creation” where the world has attempted to teach me to humble myself, I have thrown those attempts out the window and trampled on anyone and anything in my way. Thus, some have given me a reputation of being cruel and heartless; somehow, these are the very people that seem to die… not that I myself am responsible for their absences, but I’m not claiming to be entirely innocent, either.

Often, people are somewhat startled by the coolness I have towards the “whole ordeal.” It’s simply a state of mind, and there really is no room for confusion or even mild surprise. After a while, the exhilaration and adrenaline affect you almost like a drug. Soon enough, it’s all you can think about, and after that, it’s an addiction and you have to kill.

Several people in this world, such as those who do not see it fit to “murder,” are horrified that there are people like me in this world; those who feel no aversion in taking someone’s life, and furthermore, those that enjoy the rush provided by such action. However, that’s just really how things go in life. One cannot make everyone happy.

Despite every single grotesque abomination that crosses my path every so often, such as that horrid May Ernols or whatever she calls herself, I still hold my original views and strive to enforce them. My view on May is that she is very narrow-minded, and doesn’t open herself to the possibilities the world possess. I am fairly certain there are many in the world like her; those people who have the capacity to understand but decide to let it go. This infuriates me, as I wish that I could be almost genius like the rest of them, and they simply throw away their talents for pleasing the rest of the world. The light bulb did nothing but expand the puny path that humans live on, and they look for ways to increase this path further. Mankind is greedy and seeks to be self-sufficient, which will never happen.

People care so much about trivial things when all that matters is how they mark history. Honestly, when I raise my knife and gauge a victim’s actions in their final moments, I don’t register beautiful hair or pale, flawless skin. I observe the way they squeal, beg, and cry for mercy. The only thing I really carefully watch is how a face can contort in pain in so many different ways… I laugh at human stupidity. But I must accept that I am human, and thus subject to fall under such stupidity, and countless other flaws,
For example, I find myself worried… no, apprehensive. I fear that Erin is coming to remember too much. It will not be beneficial to her if she knows everything. Of course, as of now, I suspect that she simply does not wish to acknowledge the events that came to pass and has therefore blocked them away.



Very suddenly, Detective Scotts jerks me from my thinking trance, rudely turning my body a different direction. When the fool tried to have Erin sedated, I re-awoke with a vengeance. I could have killed everyone at that moment. Yet I calmly allowed them to take me away. But how I ache to end this person’s insignificant life. Not yet, I remind myself. There is still work to be done. But I wish for once, I could indulge and kill the man. After all, murder is somehow my talent… I slip away to the time of my supposed birth, smirking.


It’s very dark outside, and I have been asleep for a very long time. Curious as to what caused me to awaken from my sleep, I open my eyes very carefully and absorb the scene unfolding around me. I’m lying on the ground, on my stomach. A man with short blond hair holds a long piece of… pipe, I believe. I feel much pain around the region of my lower back, and I have many bruises. Appalled, I stare at my attacker with narrowed slits for eyes. As he lunges again, I neatly roll out his way, and his weapon bends on the ground with a sharp Clang! He carefully analyzes my actions, and then points to… a person with a sack over the head. Fair brown hair is falling out of the burlap material as the person writhes around.

Handing me a serrated knife, he gestures again to the figure and steps back, saying “Make sure you kill her this time” as he does so.
I move forward cautiously. Despite the fact that the victim is incapacitated, I don’t want to take any chances. As I consider the best way to get the person to suffer the most amount of pain, the pipe comes whistling through the air once more. I catch the blunt metal in a stalemate with my new knife, and with an almighty shove, push the man backwards.

Angry at the outside interference, I fling the blade at the attacker, smiling with satisfaction as it pierces his neck and lodges itself in his flesh. Pleased, I raise my foot high, and clam it down, hard, onto the figure’s skull. Blood splatters onto the floor, and oozes slowly out of the corpse’s head. The thick red liquid stains the sack. My bare feet have scratches on them from the sharp bones that had previously knitted the person’s skull together, as they have poked through the thin burlap. A lot of blood stains the bottom of my foot. I wipe some of the mess off my skin, and complain, “You got my foot dirty.” I walk out of the room, leaving behind little red footprints.


Jarring me from my memories, Mrs. Carol yanks me away from Detective Scotts, and guides me into a hallway of pristine white walls. She stops outside one of the many doors and points to one. “This is your room, Eris. You’ll be staying here for some time, so I suggest you get comfortable. If you would like, you can have some stew and bread. Do you want me to fetch some for you?”

I shake my head quickly, and hold my hands out in silent gesture, signaling that I want her to take off the handcuffs. She reaches into her back pocket and produces a small, silver key. I feel the shackles loosening, and I pull out of them quickly.

There’s a small bed, a sink, and a toilet. Scoffing, I lay my head down gently on the pillow of the undersized cot. Luckily, I am petite enough to fit comfortably on it, and I close my eyes thoughtfully. I allow my breathing patterns to become much calmer, tricking my observers into believing I am asleep. As the door shuts, I roll over onto my side. I have never liked beds too much, but I then again, I have never really liked anything in particular.

Erin, on the other hand, has liked too many things and people. It’s always very difficult to rid her of an attachment, because she is so convinced that nothing bad could come of the relationship. She has always been obdurate as a person, and never listens to me the first time I tell her something. Ever since we met 3 years ago, she has never failed to disagree with my views. However, I will have to squish this out of her eventually.

My encounter with May has confirmed my suspicions on what the world has come to. She is, as I observed before, a very ambitious creature despite her lack of vision. It annoys me that such a substandard person can have such dreams for the future and, due to this society, have them recognized very easily. May is everything I hate in a person. She is ambitious, narrow minded, caring, deluded, and rather full of herself. Truthfully speaking, she sort of reminds me of Ms. Eveleen, except May is not as flamboyant as her. It is rather obvious that May tries very hard to get people to notice, her though. Her very existence irks me, and her relationship to Erin may be extremely troublesome in the future.

I’ve always had some sort of trouble with the fact that Erin has this need to make friends with people, and establish relation outside the occasional assistant matter. May is a big threat, and she must be removed from the equation as soon as possible. However, I’m willing to let this sit for a while, see what happens, and go from there. After all, there is a lot to be planned, and I am cautious as to how much Erin remembers and what will become of that knowledge. There is a lot about her that I am unsure of, and she is a very unpredictable person.

Chapter 3-Erin

I’m quite used to bad dreams and nightmares, as they’ve haunted my mind ever since I was a young child. They usually fall among similar lines, and I barely remember them when I awake. Yawning, I sit up, surprised to find myself on a small little bed. I distinctly remembered falling asleep on cold tile. I scratch the tip of my nose as I take in my new surroundings.

The bed is very small, and I doubt someone larger than me could have fit on it. There’s also a faucet attached to the wall with a shiny white bowl under it. I realize this is what is called a sink. I stare at it with fascination, and move towards it. I bend underneath it, and see a series of complicated metal pipes crisscrossing each other. When I stand up, my head strikes the bottom of the sink and I collapse onto the floor, hissing in pain, clutching the spot.

“You have to be more careful, Erin!”

I sit up, still holding the spot where I hit myself. “Who’s there?” I call out. No one answers. I frown, and make my way back towards the bed. As I lay back down, I try and recall where I’ve heard the voice from before, because I’m certain I have. I close my eyes and try to think of whom the voice belongs to.


“I have some very exciting news for you, Erin. You’re going to be leading Curiosity Company’s Fall Market. You’re going to be in charge of the sales, but I will send someone who will go with you to help you, as you’re also going to be scouting new additions to our dwindling staff. It’s up to you to choose who is going to the market. I will, of course, oversee your decisions, but I trust your judgment. Make your preparations by midnight. You are dismissed.” Ms. Eveleen points at the door.

Bowing low, I wait until a servant comes and takes me by the arm. I straighten and walk stiffly towards the exit, until the door shuts behind me. As soon as it softly shuts, I run down the stairs, jumping two at a time until I reach the end of the long staircase. I sprint out of the Big House to the Staff’s Quarters, where I live. Whistling a tune, I skip to my room, excited at the prospect of being able to lead the Fall Market. I’ve been to a few markets, but I’ve never lead one before. Quickly, I think of who should be going for sale. The staff going on the trip would be decided by Ms. Eveleen, but the products were decided by the leader.

There are a lot of members we could do without, especially some of the older staff. They’ve been around for a while, but I think it’s been a bit too long. The problem within the matter is that most of the older members are important parts of the higher ranking classes. Disposers, Chasers, and Sniffs are all rather hard to train. If I get rid of many of them, I’ll have to scout out a lot of others. It’s a gamble, but one I’m willing to take. I write down several names of the upper class, and send the list for Ms. Eveleen’s approval. It comes back in a few hours’ time, her signature scrawled over it.


This year’s Fall Market site is in the middle of a secluded forest. We arrive very early, but the marketplace is still swarming with people. I hum to myself as our caravan is unpacked. I walk around the place a little, but I don’t see anyone promising, seeing as none of the really important organizations have come around yet. Making my way back to our little booth, I begin to set up our station. Leading the products out of the back one by one, I line them up in order of their price and class.

Soon, several of Curio Co.’s most valued customers arrive and begin to look over our products. When the market reaches its busiest, I leave the station to scout a bit, knowing that nobody would be stupid enough to try and steal something from us. I head towards the most popular stations, knowing that they’ll have something good to offer. Whistling to myself, I examine several products, severely disappointed when nothing good is shown. I can’t even spot anyone who might be even close to meeting the requirements necessary for a high class staff member. Curiosity Company has an excess of lower class staff, like Runners, Lurers, Shakers, and Slips. What we really need are higher rankers, but I can’t seem to find anyone who has promising skills. I go through every single Invisible Organization station, even the small, unimportant ones, but there is no talent to be found.

Ms. Eveleen will be extremely displeased if I find no one, so I steel myself and walk towards the BP House stations. I hold a great dislike for BP Houses, since I came from one. They’ve been in collaboration with Invisible Organizations for quite some time, and provide top-class Lurers. But the idea of taking young children and training them to become prostitutes sickens me. I’m very grateful towards Ms. Eveleen for taking me away.

Baby Prostitute Houses often try to make their stands appealing, especially towards males. I walk straight through many of them, ignoring the sad looks on many of the little girl’s faces as they are whisked away by people. I stop when I see a young girl, her face dolled up like all the others around her, but not wearing an expression of sorrow, or even fear. Her small, pretty face is filled with contempt and hatred.

“What’s your name?” I ask. She looks at me and crosses her arms over her naked chest. Her thick black curls bounce as she shakes her head. I repeat my question until she looks up at me with scorn in her dark grayish green eyes.

“I have no name. Surely you would know that. None of us have names. Only Numbers.” Her voice is soft and careful, but she pours disdain into every word she utters.

“Your name is not something they can give you. Now, I’ll ask again. What is your name?”

“… I don’t know. How am I to know something no one has ever told me before?” She looks away, glaring at the forest scene behind her.

“Is there a problem here?” One of the saleswomen asks, hands on her hips.
I shake my head and say, “There’s no problem. I’m just trying to see if I would like to make a purchase today….”
She smiles, and with a little wiggle of her hips, tells me, “We have lots of selection to choose from. Would you like some help in making your decision? I can help you with that.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I need your help toady; I’m fine, thank you.” She nods and turns away. I look back to the little girl and ask with finality, “What is your name?”

“Sara,” she breathes. I nod and take her by the hand. I drop the money onto the ground where Sara once stood and begin to walk back to the caravan. Before long, I reach our station and a boy taller than me grins as he hops down from the top of the van. Our stand is packed away, but a few products are climbing into the back, unsold. He walks towards me, hands in his pockets. I grip Sara’s hand tighter. As I do this, I trip over a tree root and fall to the ground. Sara looks at me, rooted to the spot. I’ve scratched myself rather badly on my knobby knees, and blood oozes form the wound. I wince, but I see Sara smiling widely. The boy runs to my side, and yells, “You have to be more careful, Erin!”


I bolt upright, recognizing the voice. But who was that? And why do I feel like I know him from somewhere? Who was he? And what were we doing there? There was also a little girl, named Sara, or something. She was… a part of an organization? Even as I try to piece together everything, it all soon becomes fuzzy and blurred. Soon, I don’t even remember anything, not even the sound of the boy’s voice.