Monday came without break. The weekend, unlike usual, stretched out to what felt like an eternity. Every waking minute felt like an hour, and my sleep was filled with the cries of help from my missing best friend. When I wasn't worrying about Mary, I researched infants, secluding myself from my mother, my father, and all of my friends trying to help me with the loss. I let Fango Mills have a special ringtone for when he texted in case he found something, but his text tone never came up. Even staring at my computer screen worrying about baby wellcare for my little brother-or-sister to be, I couldn't shrug off the fact that Mary was missing. There was a void in every action I took, as if some force had stolen a chunk of my soul itself.

My mother was unknowing about my friend's disappearance. And so, when Monday came, she made me go to school, feeling diseased throughout my entire body - mentally and physically. It was if the fire in my heart had gone cold. It was distant, like ice so cold it could numb and burn me all at once. It was the greatest grief. There was a kind of black hole inside of me that destroyed anything from the outside, and held nothing inside of it.

I'd been avoiding Croma altogether. I'd lost my fight, although I had every reason to do so. However, it was like with each Mary-less passing second, my hope was withering more and more like a dead blossom under the sun.

I woke up and instinctively reached for my phone. 17 messages. I scanned over then, in case Fango had texted me during my sleep. There wasn't a single thing from him. However, Oliver had desperately been trying to get a hold of me. Twelve of the messages messages were from him. I scanned them over, saw that they concerned my well being, then put the phone back. Time to go back to Hell. I was already in the innermost circle of it.

It being autumn, I pulled on a black, hooded jacket over a gray Metallica t-shirt with dark skinny jeans and black converse. I glanced out the curtainless window to see the newborn frost lying in a sheet over the fallen, fire-inked leaves below. The fuschia dawn light glistened over it so that an army of a thousand tiny sparkling diamonds winked at me from yards over. There was a sense of ghostly aloneness in the fact that Mary's static-filtered breath wasn't echoing pointlessly in the space of my four white walls, as happened every other weekday morning.

I collected my backpack and books, deciding to skip breakfast as I sat down at my computer. For half an hour, I scrolled through articles about infant diets and sleep and education. All the while, I thought, Someone's against me. Some supernatural force hates me. When I vowed to protect Mary, it took her. When she went missing, a little part of me went missing, too. I choked back a helpless cry that was slipping from me, knowing it would be a strangle on my tone rather than be an actual cry. After all, I no longer had the strength to cry myself out. The worst part of it all is that I was helpless. There was nothing I could do. I felt as small and helpless as the newborn baby inside my computer screen giving me a mangled glare.

Finally, the bus pulled in. I rushed out of the house, not bothering to close my tabs, and rode the transport to Hell. All the while, I flipped through my phone thinking, We're so similar. It should have been me.

***

Oliver wrapped me in a hug during lunch once I could no longer avoid him. I could dodge his concern everywhere else - classes, drama club, gym - but there was nowhere to run during lunch. Not unless I sat down after him, but he'd only move.

He buried my pale face into his chest, which was padded with that zipped-up white jacket of his. The only reason I didn't object to it was that the position hid me from Dillan, Delta, and Fango, who all looked at me with their colorful, questioning gazes. I looked into the muffled darkness of his jacket emotionlessly, not daring to close my eyes and fall into the haunting darkness of rest that beckoned me; I wasn't going to get rest... not from him, even if Oliver was my Apotropaic. One of his slender hands snaked through my golden, curling locks. It was a wordless apology, but I still took it. Only because I felt like if I didn't lean on someone at least for a bit, I'd fall through.

After a minute or two, however long he held me, I shoved Oliver back away from me and glared down at me food. I'd made myself feel weak. That made my blood boil. That made me feel alive again. I didn't look back in his direction, forking through the liquid substance the school branded 'mashed potatoes'.

Oliver sighed, blue eyes narrowing as he rested his chin on his knobby knuckles. "I don't know what to do with you, Em. Why didn't you text me back? I was worried."

"Fuck off," I growled. "How would you feel if Ace were taken, huh?" My body heated with natural anger. It felt good, seeing as how I had felt nothing in the last couple of days. I knew that I was going to explode at some point, my anger being unused. "You think that I could hug you and everything would just be alright?" I wanted to break something, someone. "Fango, you'd better be looking for Mary." I didn't even turn to the Blaehdos prophet in fear that the sight of him would make me snap.

Fango replied from two seats over, "I am. I have found nothing. I need to get into her room to look for clues, but do you think her parents are gonna just let me waltz in there? Nope!"

I could feel Oliver's blue eyes on me, curious. I pulled the dark hood over my head, narrowing my eyes down at my plate. My black gaze focused on the milk carton at the corner of my tray, wondering if there were any similar ones with Mary Clarkson's face on it. And just think, strangers will glance over the picture and feel absolutely nothing. Maybe a little pity. No one will stop and think, 'This child is someone's loved one, someone's daughter, someone's best friend'. Absolutely no one will stop and think, 'That little girl might have made changes for the better in our world - let's pay her some grace.' My anger flashed away; I had gone cold again.

My thoughts were shattered as a girl came by passing out tiny slips of paper. I glared up at her. She had straight, inky hair that fell just against the slope of her smooth shoulders. Her skin was dark like smooth chocolate, and her lips were full red. She wore a pale white eyeshadow, and a bright pink t-shirt bearing a passage from the bible. "I know you don't go to these, Emma Whitestone, but maybe it'll help you lighten up!"

I took the paper from her, emotions barren. Millton High School Formal Dance! Grades 7-10. This Friday, 6-8 p.m. Glancing up at the girl, I said nothing, but dug the note into my pocket. She gave a slip of paper to everyone else that sat around me, then left.

Help me lighten up? I scoffed mentally. My best friend was taken from me. Not that you'd know. Not even my mom knows. These people aren't completely ignorant, are they? After all, one person has a crush on someone else and everyone knows about it. So why can't you pay attention to something important like this? Unless you just don't care... you sickos. I looked at the burger that took up the middle of my plate. It looked delicious, but I'd shedded my appetite. I hadn't adequately eaten in three days.

***

Dillan, Oliver, and I all had gym at the same time. Before, Mary had also been there with us. She'd had the exact same schedule as me...

Considering that I'd already wanted to hit something from the little ordeal with Oliver earlier that day, it was both a relief and a sadness that we had to play dodgeball. True enough, I did want to hit something with all my might, but I had no energy. All color, life, and stamina, had been drained from me. All that I could think about was Mary, and where she could be. Somewhere strange, forced to do strange things... Still in a van... Dead? I attempted to reason with myself. But the Dark Generals took her. However, I couldn't fool myself. The chances of her being in mortal pain and distress were much worse with them being her captors.

The coach, whose name I had completely ignored because it annoyed him when I forgot it, blew so hard on his whistle that a vein throbbed in his neck. He spat it out with force and roared, "Against the wall!" The class followed him instructions, waiting to be put on teams.

In blurry moments, I found myself on team two. Dillan was with me, and Oliver was against us.

"You sure you don't want to leave?" Dillan queried, tapping my shoulder.

I wiped my shoulder aggressively, as if his touch carried the plague. Then I growled in response, "Of course I want to leave! But I want to have something to fight."

His eyes darkened, as if he understood.

The game passed by like any other moment in my life did: blurry. I hardly remember the thoughts passing me by, but I recalled sweat. My elbows ached with the pressure of me throwing the ball. The faintest memory of me twisting in the air to throw at anyone and everyone blew like a gentle breeze in my mind. My muscles burned. I'd given several kids bloody noses and black eyes... And I had thoroughly enjoyed it, because each face I replaced with Salt's or Gary Bluethorne's. They were were going to pay the greatest price for taking Mary, and I was going to collect that payment.

***

I spent the afternoon flipping through Dillan's information. The three notebooks were sprawled open and, although I had faith Dillan would have told me if there was a way to go and get Mary, I was looking for a passage into the Dark dimension. The wall between that dimension and Croma had been reconstructed with the energy of every being there, and so it was impossible to get there from Croma. However, I scanned the books over and over for a way.

The Six Prophets are the only beings in all of existence that can jump dimensions like that, except for a demon or Apotropaic, who can create a vessel on Earth only. They use the space tunnel Croma used when his soul was reborn into God.

I sighed, rubbing my palms up the goosebumps on my arms to warm myself. I'd gotten blood on my jacket from dodgeball earlier that day when I had hit a teammate and, regrettably, was forced to comfort them. My mother obliged to wash it.

Ace and Oliver were rewarded for their intelligence and bravery and battle, although their father was an evil douchebag. Both were rewarded with immortality - giving them immortality was done using the last of Croma's power. However, the Divines, Jupus and Ebony, seemed to think it was worth it. The last of Croma's power lied in the castle garden; the soil there is the soil he died on. The only fertile soil in all the land, although the plants are dying considerably.

No, no, no! I flipped through the pages, frustrated. The notebooks were so thin. Even put together, they didn't even add up to one-hundred-seventy pages, like most complete, untorn notebooks. How could any information on it be hidden? I refused to believe there was nothing.

The Kalos was founded by Ebony Kalos, who was given her name only after she left the Dark for Croma. They are a race of demons turned good. They go hand-in-hand with Blaehdos, which are the male alternatives to this. They are two separate kingdoms.

The Murondoes, the first kingdom, founded by Jupus Murondoes, is a race of angels. Their alternate is Vurandoes.

Minium, which had no ruler or founder, is a race of faeries. Minios is their alternate.

I felt like tearing the books apart. Before I could turn another page, my mother entered the room without even a knock on the door. Trying to hide my anger, I glanced back up at her. "Hi, Mom." I shut the notebook. "I was studying."

My mother pulled up a piece of paper, and I crippled inside when I recognized it as the dance paper I never took out of my pocket. "You aren't planning on going?"

My brow creased. "No."

She sighed. "Listen, Em, you've been holed up in your room for a long time. Besides, you've never been to a dance. You went to Dillan's party, didn't you? Your tastes might be changing. I think you'll like it."

I scraped my brain for an excuse. "It's a formal! I have to wear a dress!" I pulled off the whine well enough, even though I was truly blank. "Besides, you know that I don't like people."

"Delta is going. I know you've been hanging out with him. His mother recommended you go with him." My mother grinned, as if that horrid idea was remotely brilliant. Her emerald eyes glowed, expecting me to cave because of how the idea thrilled her.

I groaned. "Because I'm hanging out with him doesn't mean I'm dating him!" I didn't even like Delta, at all. He just sat there in the company of Dillan and Fango. We hadn't bonded in the least, not as friends, not as anything. "Mom, please, let me be antisocial." In my own opinion, I was doing a good job of hiding the real reason I wanted seclusion: I had lost someone. I only hadn't told my mother because I didn't want her to comfort me all around.

"Emma..." She said, lifting her thin eyebrows. "Do this, for me? It'd make me happy to see you act like a child. You grew up too fast on me."

Perhaps that was true - I matured too quickly. I never played with dolls. Instead, I'd grown up studying and running around Millton with Mary. I grew up so I could keep her a child in this town that hated us so much. However, there was no way in Croma I could relax the way she wanted me to. "I don't dance."

Mother frowned.

Still, she knew she'd won.

In moments, a sigh escaped my lips. "Fine. Sure. Whatever. I'll ask Delta. If I get a heart attack and die from being in a social event, I will blame you with my last breath. Mom."

She smiled, leaving the room with the slip of paper. Obviously, since she now had contact with Delta's mother, she was going to go share the happy news that her daughter was going to leave the comforting embrace of her room for the cold, hard world and a guy she didn't even consider a friend. Briefly, I wondered if she was talking to Fango's and Dillan's parents, too. Then, another thought crossed my mind.

Did their parents know about Croma?

I'd tell mine, but I didn't want them to worry.

***

What's more embarrassing than being Emma Whitestone and walking into a clothing store meant for princesses is walking in that store with a guy. I'd have rather gone in with Oliver - at least I remotely trusted him. I wouldn't be too bothered if people assumed Oliver and I were dating. After all, he wasn't bound to do anything to prove it right or wrong. But no, I was stuck with Delta, who I barely knew, looking for dresses on a Wednesday afternoon. He said he'd pay for my dress. I was half tempted to wear my Metallica t-shirt and jeans as usual, but my mother wouldn't allow that.

What was more cruel was the fact that I was expected to enjoy myself while my soul sister was being tortured somewhere in a distant universe.

The store was dedicated to dresses, purses, cosmetics, and shoes. That being said, it was the place of my nightmares. Although, it couldn't compare to the dreams I used to have about my mother's death. The place had bright mauve splashed against its walls, and the dresses were on display on walls and closets. I prayed this would be over quick; although I hated this, I was picky.

"You want me to give suggestions?" Delta asked, thumbing through the money in his pockets nervously. He wasn't shy about buying the dress; he just seemed as reluctant about going with me as I was. "I mean, not because of price range, I know you aren't expensive, but..."

"Sure, whatever." I shrugged, glowering at the vast expansion of the store. In one category stood wedding dressed, at another were children's dresses. There were mirrors every few feet on the walls, filling the spaces between the dresses. There were racks where the shoes and make-up stood. I grimaced. "Wait, do I have to pick out shoes, too?"

He scratched the back of his head, a moisture spreading across his forehead. He didn't seem shy; he seemed reluctant. "Yeah. And make-up."

"Kill me now..."

My spirits darkened as I stepped into the vile building. I glanced about the colors that splashed the walls, then the dresses. I have to try them on... and the shoes... Dear Croma, kill me now... Delta stood behind me, head dipped towards the ground. My luck drooped once again as we were faced by a store clerk.

The guy glanced me over with an exaggerated smile on his face. "I see you're wearing a... uh... Metallica shirt. You haven't been to this store before, have you?"

I crossed my arms, not taking it as an insult. "Nope. Never."

"May I suggest a... uh... denim dress?"

I wasn't completely ignorant when it came to fabric. I decided that would probably be good enough. "Yeah. We'll look for one. Leave, now, go help someone who needs it." I crossed my arms over the flat plane of my chest, lifting my head indignantly as I began searching the store with my eyes. I wonder what Mary would have worn. She'd have probably liked to go to the dance...

The store clerk sauntered off, and Delta pointed out another dress. The fabric of Hell was made from made from blue and gray fabrics. It had a narrow skirt that reached just above my knees, and the short sleeves were rounded at the ends. I narrowed my eyes at it, then sighed. I'd already had my fill with the place.

"Yeah, that dress is good."

Delta flicked a small smile in my direction, ran a hand through his short brown hair, and plucked it off the hanger.

I looked it over. That's not too bad. That's something Mary would have worn.

***

The week was uneventful on Fango's part. I got a few texts from him, mostly warnings like, "If we don't find Mary soon, they might find out she's Minium and corrupt her." Although no one spoke about the possibility of death, I had the pressing fear that it would happen.

Thursday night, I decided to enter Croma.

I woke up in the library chair again. Oliver was in the floor across from me, an odd-looking book sprawled open in his lap. His silky white hair dipped over his head, blue eyes scanning the words than actually reading them. It was as if he'd already read the book before, several times over. I sat up, popping my back in the process. The chair was anything but comfortable.

My Apotropaic glanced up at me. His hair was natural again, half of his face covered by the curtain of snowy hair. A single sapphire eye glimmered at me in the semi-darkness. "It's been a while, huh? You don't like to wake up here, it seems."

"I hate it," I admitted. "I'm only here to look for something." I wasn't about to tell him that I was looking for a passageway into the Dark world. Knowing Oliver, he'd object to that. After all, there was a huge chance of me being torn apart both entering and leaving that dimension. I weaved a hand through my curly golden hair, realizing I'd been lying on its ends. I winced as a strand of hair came off of my head, then I turned to look at him. "To discover something."

Oliver's brow knit in confusion. "Perhaps we could look for it together?"

"No." I gazed around the library, black eyes questioning each book. One of you paper-bound beauties may have the answer to my problem. You do, don't you? "You pretty much live in the library, Oliver." I'm going to ask: are there any books that could aid me? Please have answers, Oliver. That's all I ask...

Before I could speak, Oliver clamped his book shut and hoisted himself up off the ground. "I have a question, Extant."

I tensed at the title. "What is it?" My tone came out harsher than I'd meant it to be, but I didn't have any regrets on how I sounded.

"How come you embrace me as a friend, or your Apotropaic, and then shrug me off like a bug? I'm here for you in a dark time, Emma Whitestone. I mean well. You've been shrugging me off since day one. You... You just can't do that. I'm your Apotropaic!"

I inwardly rolled my eyes, already fed up with the conversation. Sure, he meant well, and I appreciated his company, but I was apparently a hard person to befriend. I trusted him to an extent, and that was the best he was going to get out of me for a long while. "Because. You honestly I think I care about developing a bond with you when Mary is missing? Besides, as an Apotropaic, you're my trainer. There doesn't have to be a true bond there."

"You're wrong," Oliver objected, just making me angrier than I already was. "As your Apotropaic, we are bound by species, destiny, and soul. We're supposed to atleast be friends. Besides, it hurts when you shrug me away. You need help, Emma, and you won't let me help you. I don't know how to help you, because every approach has failed." He crossed his arms over his chest, shrugging the hood that drooped on his shoulders. "We are more than acquaintances, aren't we? You have a little trust in me. Why are you so hard on people? I want to understand you."

I pushed myself off of the chair and stood before him. He was a few inches shorter than me. "You don't get to understand me. You train me, and nothing else. I don't even see you training me! I don't care about species or destiny or any of that. I just want Mary back. You want to prove yourself? Then help me go get her from the Dark dimension."

Oliver made an expression similar to the one he made when he was sick. "No, Emma... No..." His slender hands drooped to his sides, and helplessly tucked them into his jeans pockets. "Even if it were possible, there's a chance you'll be torn to shreds!"

I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I know." I turned to duck out of the room, but he pulled me back to him roughly. In response, I hit him in the gut with my arm, knocking the wind out of him.

My Apotropaic looked unphased, except for his moistening eyes. "I'd rather get hurt than you go out there, Extant..." Something in his tone was cold. "Now that you're awake, I would expect you to at least consider me, but I guess not, huh? We're going to go looking for Mary once Fango finds out which Dark general took her." His hand never left my bare shoulder. "Please, talk to me. We'll work up a plan."

"My plan," I hissed, "is that I go save Mary!"

"They could be hidden on earth," Oliver pointed out, brow dipping in sheer worry. I knew from the bead of sweat rolling down his hair-concealed forehead that his worry lied with me, his Extant, not mary, who needed the worry more than I did. "We need to track them down. Please-"

I wasn't sure what made me do it: the stress, the loss, the need to fill the void where Mary was with anger, but I shoved Oliver backwards. He stumbled back, bringing two bookshelves down with him, buried in paper. He blinked up at me with his wide sapphire eye, hair messy over his face. I scowled at him, right before he pushed himself up with aid of the wall. "Fight me..." I growled. "Hit me. Make me bleed. Fight me, dammit!"

His expression saddened, but he took up my offer. Oliver barrelled into my stomach, tacking me to the chair behind us. The chair toppled over, and pain rippled through my arm as it was crushed under Oliver. I growled, rolled him off of me, and flexed my shoulders. I pinned his hands above his head and gave him a blow to the jaw.

When I hit Oliver, I didn't see his face. Not the boy I respected. I saw the face of Salt, of Gary Bluethorne, of anyone whose reason it could be that mary was gone, especially my own. Again and again, with each hit, he didn't utter a single gasp or groan of pain. Blood sprayed across my knuckles, and I struck with all the rage and loss I had collected over the past week until someone pulled my off, and another Apotropaic pulled Oliver away.

Carter, who was holding my shoulders, growled in my ear, "What was that for, mate?!"

The Kalos Apotropaic across from me held his bloodied face, eyes still knit in worry and concern when they gazed my way. I clenched my jaw. Don't look at me like that, Oliver... I feel bad enough... The pit of my stomach boiled with guilt. Shame glossed my black eyes.

Ace, who had dragged his brother away from the assault, glared at me. "Why did you touch him?!" His alto voice was on fire.

I pushed myself off of the ground, glancing around. Caleb and Gan had entered the room, and Dillan followed behind them. I bared my teeth at them, like an animal caught in a trap. However, I was much worse than any animal could be - I was being a monster. "Don't... Don't talk to me..." I clenched my fists, shoving past the Cromans with all my might so that I could go outside and leave the scene. Oliver called out my name, but I ignored him.

My hands were slick and red. I glared down at them, rubbing the blood between my fingers. I wanted to be in control. That's why I did it. I pushed the door open with my elbow, entering the eternal desert that Croma was. Don't lie to yourself, Emma Whitestone. You'd have done it even if Mary hadn't been kidnapped, wouldn't you have? You're sick, by Croma, you're sick in every sense of the word. I cleansed my hands on the purple silk I was wearing, biting my lip. I'm sorry, Oliver, you had to get stuck with me.

Wishing I still had my hood on, I hurried off into the garden. Taking the door that Salt had once used, which was connected to the castle, Oliver joined me moments later. I was overlooking the wall, the dry brown vines snaking around my arm as if in comfort. He set his hand on my shoulder.

"Go away," I growled.

"It's almost time for you to go back," he said in a low voice.

The breeze ruffled my hair, and I dipped my head towards the ground, unable to look at him. I am not weak. I am not weak. I will not ask him to help me though this time. I am not weak... The last thing I wanted was to submit. However, it was still on my list...

Oliver pulled my into him for a hug. The vines slipped away from my arm as I was helplessly buried into Oliver's chest. I hunched my shoulders the slightest bit so that I could lie my head on the crook on his neck, clutching his hood.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," I said in a monotone voice. "That tends to happen to people. I'm not going to try and justify myself."

Oliver pushed me back to see my face, and I cast him a cold glance. His smile was small, but welcoming. "It's fine, Emma. I understand."

"I didn't do it because I lost Mary. I would have ended up fighting you like that even if she hadn't been taken." I sighed, pushing him away again. I was gentler than before. "You went easy on me, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"My training hasn't begun yet. Please... This weekend? I'll have enough time to sleep. And you can train me on Earth..." My eyes narrowed. "You'd better start training me. That's your job as my Apotropaic."

Oliver shook his head, smiling. "No, Emma Whitestone. It's also my job as your friend."

***

Delta drove Dillan and I to the Friday dance. The Minios prophet had decided Gary Bluethorne was likely to be helping to watch over the event, seeing as how the prophets were possible to go. Delta owned a type of car I had no determination to find out the type of. The seats were black velvet, and there was a CD playing some kind of punk rock band. Under the mirror, which was tilted to the side, was a picture of his household family, plus Dillan, Fango, and another girl. The girl was the same one I saw with Dillan in a picture that hung in his room whenever I'd went to get the notebooks.

I reached against the picture and placed my finger on the girl's lacy dress. "Who's that? Is she a prophet?"

Dillan, who was humming to the song seconds before, grinned. "Yeah. Nahara Claire. She's Murondoes. And my girlfriend. But, I suppose you already guessed that. Maybe you can meet her. She's busy in Croma and earth right now, but I'm sure you can see her soon."

I crossed my arms, adjusting the little black belt that crossed over my waist and held the dress in place. "I'm not very eager..." I pulled down his mirror, surveying my face. With my palm, I tried to smudge off the pale lavender eyeshadow and hot red lipstick. "To meet her, I mean..." I made plans to actually wash the stuff off my face when I got there; my mother insisted I wear makeup to look nice. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly 'friendly'."

Delta glanced over. "And you're okay with us?"

"You're helping me find Mary," I explained. "No one else is. I mean, Fango is trying... You and Dillan are waiting, same as me."

To avoid another episode of rage from me, Delta turned up the music again. I propped my elbow up beside the window, gazing at the blur of outside beside me as the car propelled down the road. On the way to the dance, I couldn't help but wonder: at the moment, was Mary even alive?

The picture is Ace. Please vote! It would really make my day! And comment!