I STOOD IN THE COURTYARD, still as a statue, just like everyone around me. There were twenty-eight girls in all. All dressed the exact same, and all in the exact state of confusion for just what we were doing in the stone area, bathed in complete and utter silence.

We were all so small, shivering in long grey rows, some trying to stand tall and others not bothering to hide their fear, allowing it to consume their tiny frame. It had been so long since we had been outside, and the bright lights were shocking, beams of light refusing one to hide their expression in the shadows. We were all exposed.

It was several minutes before the woman we would learn to address as 'Madame' spoke, her deep red lips snapping us to attention and glistening like fresh blood in the sunlight. Her Russian accent pierced the silence.

"This is your first test. We will evaluate you on your ability to fight and think on the spot, and if you are smart enough, you will make it through. Failure, however, will result in punishment."

Punishment. I did not know what exactly that meant just yet, but the words sent shivers down my spine and struck deep into my mind. We had known pain, but these were new trials and undoubtedly that left new consequences to any failure. Unfortunately, I was one of the smallest, the scrawniest with eyes too large for my face and trembling at any sight of a threat.

Vomit bubbled in my throat. I felt faint from the thought of fighting one of the girls around me. I could not fight. I was useless, with shaky hands and a nervous tick that meant nothing but bad things toward me here. I was not sure why I had been chosen, but I certainly was not a smart choice. At least, not for a warrior.

That is what they had told me, at least.

Madame ushered forward two girls, both quivering from fear, and gripped their shoulders tightly. Her blood-red claws dug into their exposed skin, but neither dared to even let out a squeak of pain. "You will have five minutes to win your fight. A win by whatever means needed is a win. Do whatever necessary to succeed."

Even though it was not me in the ring, I could feel myself growing more and more nervous as the girls tensed up and began to circle each other. Their eyes locked on one another, waiting for an opening. Searching for a chance to take control and do, as Madame said, anything necessary to win. Within seconds they had grown hungry, desperate to escape punishment and succeed somehow. Gone was the bond between the two, replaced with animal instincts prying away their humanity.

They - we - were just children. No one thought of that, however, and would not if they saw such a scene.

All of a sudden, one jumped forward and gripped the other's forearms. She began to pull her down with a ferocity I had not expected from such a tiny girl. She flopped clumsily, not sure how to stay down, but managed to hold her opponent to the cold stone and unable to stand up. The other girl dug cut-down nails into her arm and thrashed in the hold, but couldn't break free of the tight grip she was under. It was clear she had lost - so quickly for a first fight. 

She was panicked, pleading silently with widened eyes for mercy that would never be approved. The girl had seized control and despite what little compassion still remained, she would never give up her victory because of another's life. That was not the way that had been taught, and not the way any of us could afford.

Madame watched with displeasure for several seconds, then stepped forward and clicked her tongue, "enough. This is over."

The winner, a girl with straw blonde hair and even lighter eyes, panted as she got up off of the other who had just seconds ago been her opponent. The gravity of her situation seemed to sink into her mind and she took several steps back, eyes welling up with tears at the sight of the girl on the ground. She did not seem to know quite what to do with herself. 

No one spoke as the girl was hauled out of the room by a stern-looking woman, and not a voice was heard as Madame scrutinised the crowd for two more to step forward. Her hawk-like gaze pierced us all, digging into our heads, getting into our thoughts. It was paralysing. "You, and....you."

I wanted to fall, to break into pieces, to evaporate when her long finger pointed directly at me - but I could not do that. I would not dare to do that. Instead, my heart in my throat and head clouded with anxious thoughts, I stepped forward, clenching my fists against the overwhelming wish to cry.

Red-hot fear was sending my body into cold sweats. I knew what was to come. I knew what to expect. My fists were balled and I had taken a stance, but was there a point? My fate was coming too fast to be changed.

My opponent, a stockier girl with darker hair than mine, glared at me in a mix of anger and fear, a look that laid on most faces in the arena. She was scared too, but forced it down and held up her fists to begin an attack. Her defense was the anger and it was all she could hold onto as she prepared for a fight. I, however, stood paralysed in fear, staring at her like she was the worst demon I could imagine - in a sickening sense, perhaps she was.

She had once been my friend. No more; she was about to tear me to shreds, without a second thought. And I had no right to even hold that against her, for I would do the same, if only I could.

I swallowed, hard.

"начать."

It all moved too fast around me. Her fists flew like lightning and cursed my cheeks, knocking me down to the cold pavement before I could speak or move my body in defence. I lifted my arms to protect myself against her, but by that point, she had already broken through and slammed against my face, masking her fear with pure adrenaline and a terrifying yearning for my pain. My opponent showed no mercy, and pounded my face and torso against the ground until all I could feel was pain, pain, pain-

"Enough." 

It was all over. The girl stepped away, towering over me and my shame.

I held back the tears of pain and grief, leaning my head against the pavement and clenching my eyes closed so I didn't have to stare at her or anyone else's disappointed frowns. It seemed a lot easier than facing my troubles. I could not escape, of course, but at least with scrunched up eyes, I could pretend to for just a few moments.

Two hands grabbed me, rough and hard, with such a force that I knew it was not Madame or my classmates. They dragged me across the cobblestones and through a door that clanged as we stepped through, away from the outside smells and sounds that once surrounded me. I did not want to open my eyes, but I did anyway, watching the dark ceiling race past me as I was dragged off to my punishment. 

A whimper escaped my throat, high-pitched and more of a cry than an interjection, and I thrashed in the arms that held onto me so securely. I did not want this. I did not want the punishment - I did not need to know what it was to know how terrible it would be. I needed to get out.

I was so small. Just a child.

"Please," I sobbed in broken Russian, thick tears now dripping freely from my cheeks and staining the floor, "I am sorry! Do not do this! Please!"

No response, only the thud of my body hitting a large table, followed by two straps hitting my ankles. 

I was so small.

But they did not care.

"Ple-"

I shot up, breathing heavily, chest rising at lightning speed in order to suck back in the air I had been holding. It was still dark, dark enough to not know where I was or any of my surroundings, but still I swung my legs out of the bed anyways and leant my head against my hands, trying to recollect my thoughts.

A dream. That was all that it was; a simple nightmare, useless thoughts passing through in the night. None of it was real, and there was no point in focusing on it anymore. It was all over, I was awake, and it meant nothing to me - even if it did feel so real.

The days of being so small had passed, but I could still feel the fear, the shame, the spike of emotion as failure dripped across my fallen form like a disgraced soldier after a battle. I had been but a child. 

Now, I had lost that, I had become a warrior and shed the innocence and weakness, but the doubts and demons still lurked in the back of my mind.

"дерьмо," I cursed into the air, sliding my feet up and walking to turn on the light. There would be no point in trying to sleep after that.

...

I rubbed at my eyes wearily, masking my grumpiness and anger towards being here with a cheerful smile and wave towards the two boys who sat in the far corner of the cafeteria. One of which was flailing his arms around excitedly, no doubt trying to convince Peter of some theory or other about his dumb movie. The Star Wars.

Star Wars was a strange thing, I had realised, from the research I had done about the mysterious universe Peter loved so much. Full of aliens and ships and strange magic that used the mind and nothing else, it was pure gibberish, a language I had no idea how to speak. The girl was in love with her brother and a thief, and the thief was working for a slobbery lizard-man, while the brother's father was secretly the villain - everything about it was strange, and I couldn't understand just how the boy could like that garbage. Still, it didn't change the fact that he did, which meant I had to hide my doubts and pretend like it was the most amazing thing in the world.

"Hi," I smiled, placing a small tray down on the table, shortly following it myself. "What are you two discussing today?"

The boy turned his attention away from Ned and smiled softly at me. "He's telling me about his weekend, is all."

"Oh." I held up the two muffins resting on my tray, offering one to both of the boys beside me. "Muffin? They are homemade."

Peter frowned a little bit as he accepted the baked good, turning it over in his hands. "I didn't know you baked; you didn't mention that at all."

"I guess it just never came up in conversation. But yes, my whole family has always been into baking. Cooking, alike." It all sounded fake, even for the 'sweetheart' Emily was supposed to be. There was only so much sickly-sweet enthusiasm that could be used before things got annoying, and I was reaching my limit.

Ned, however, only chomped down into the muffin and grinned, crumbs flying everywhere as he spoke, "these are so good, wow! Can you cook for me every day?"

"Glad you like them," was all I muttered in response. The food left on my tray stayed untouched, and instead, I grabbed my thick notebook for English from my bag and flipped through the pages rapidly. I had not finished the questions from the book we were reading - I had not even listened to a single word she had told us, too busy focusing on the Parker boy - and it was slowly getting closer and closer to the due date. The object of unfinished homework, too, allowed for them to continue their original conversation and harmless, easy eavesdropping that was like taking candy from a baby. As the Americans would say.

"Hey, there she is!" 

I looked up from my paper, peering up at Mary Jane and Gwen's smiling faces. "Hello?"

Gwen waved slightly, shifting her weight from foot to foot before speaking. "Look, we're sorry about...you know, what we said before. It wasn't cool of us to do to you."

Why were they doing this now? I looked back at the two boys I was sitting with, Ned's face pale with an embarrassment of some sort, and Peter's practically unreadable. "It is fine."

"Can we sit?" Mary Jane asked, before dropping her tray down and grinning at the group around her. "Hi, Peter, hi Ned!"

Peter didn't answer in words, only stuttering out some intelligible response and ducking his head down to the papers in front of him. He seemed to be awkward around them, something I had recognised from the first few times I had met him - his ears were turning slightly red and everything. Curious.

Her friend sat down too, though it was much more hesitant than Mary Jane had. She seemed to pause for a moment, unsure of what to say before beginning. "Actually, we'd like to ask you something."

"Okay."

She held out her phone, making me squint to read the tiny letters of the text on her phone. "We're inviting you to a party next weekend - you didn't get to go to the other one, Emily, but maybe this would make up for that? I know you got busy, but we both think it's important to get to know the school, right? And Liz throws great parties."

I did not want to know the school. I knew enough already. All I had come for was Peter, but I had met Gwen and Mary Jane, noisy and butting into business with assumptive thoughts and fluffy eyelashes. Ned Leeds, a boy who almost always messed up any natural situation that was otherwise a prime chance to pounce on my prey. Flash Thompson, a bully who scared Peter and seemed to make a note of me as well, though far from the muscle and brimstone sort of guy. Sally, a girl who used our non-existent friendship as a guise to knock me down a notch.

That was all I needed to know. Give or take several dozen folders of information forced down my throat before coming to America, of course. "I think I am busy, actually. Sorry."

"I'll see," Peter piped up, causing me to start and stare at him incredulously. "I might be able to come."

Ned didn't speak, but his face was turning more and more pale as we sat; from his expression, he did not look exactly comfortable at that moment. He only shrugged and sank down into the bench a little more, fidgeting with his fingers under the table.

"Great!" Gwen grinned, flipping her long, silky hair off of her shoulder and sending a little wave before standing back up. "I hope you can make it then, Peter! And sorry that you're busy, Emily; maybe next time?"

"Yes," I mumbled, not focusing on their thoughts much anymore. "Maybe."

The second they were out of earshot, I turned to Peter with a frown. "I didn't know you were into parties. I thought that wasn't your thing?"

He shrugged, shoving a binder into his backpack and clearing up the table, not looking directly at me. "I don't know, it might not be bad. I just thought I would think about it. What about you, Ned?"

Ned, however, seemed to have other thoughts on his mind; he clutched his stomach and looked so pale I was sure he was about to turn green. "I-um-I'll see. I gotta go, see you in class."

A flicker of a smile flitted across my face before I got hold of myself and replaced it with a thoughtful frown. "I hope he is okay."

"Me too, actually. That's weird; he did not seem sick this morning, did he?"

"I do not know, I did not see him much. Maybe it was the stomach bug going around, though. I heard it could be bad this year."

Peter seemed to buy it, nodding and following me out of the cafeteria. "I guess so. I hope he feels better, I guess."

"Yes, me too." I adjusted the straps on my bag, gesturing out to the hallway leading to the English room. The less time spent on the topic of his friend, the better; I wasn't interested in answering questions I shouldn't even know the answer too, and I'd rather use our new time to pry into the boy's life instead. "Should we go now?"

He nodded, though I could tell his thoughts were on his newly-ill friend. "Yeah, yeah sure. Let's go."

It was as if an internal timer had started in my mind, counting down the minutes that we had together without the boy's shadow. Ned would be sick for exactly seven days, which meant I had to work quickly; in that short time, I needed to figure out how to grow closer to Peter, set up something that would ensure our partnership somewhere down the road, and get more answers to Inga's questions before she burned me alive. In seven days, I needed to make the boy practically infatuated with me - scratch that, six days, twenty-three hours fifty-nine minutes, and twelve seconds.

Eleven seconds.

Ten seconds.

I would need to work fast if I was going to succeed - or at least build a strong foundation of a non-existent relationship. Let's hope Peter didn't have too many plans.

Yikes, this is a messy chapter but I hope it doesn't sound too bad. However, it makes me laugh writing this knowing that a lot of readers were scared she was going to go bloody murder on poor Ned - don't worry, he's not going anywhere kids, she's not that evil!

Please note now that my schedule is every Friday/Saturday for updates, so stop coming at me for updates. I get it, the book is somehow enjoyable, but stop commenting an hour after I message this to update and then piss at me because I replied to you and snapped for not paying attention to the first fucking chapter when I mentioned that. @ all silent readers, come out of fucking nowhere and just bombard me with 'next chapter' requests, and I'll fling you into the sun.

However, I would like to say thank you to everyone who properly supports me - that means the world, and each of your comments and votes makes me happy. I mean, we hit #603 in fan fiction and that's just crazy considering I have not even twenty chapters out! Thank you, dolls, for your love and support. It means the world, and even if I don't reply right away, I do appreciate it all :)