Minny wasn't real.

Minny wasn't real.

Minny wasn't real.

Benjamin sat in the chair at the dining room table. His suit was pressed. His hair was combed. He smelled rustic and woodsy. He looked like a painting.

His parents sat at the heads of the table, looking elegant and classy, like dolls. They looked like the product of too much money, with expensive fabrics and fake faces. It was a scene from a movie or a picture, and it was just as fake.

There was an empty seat across from Benjamin. It belonged to Lennard.

His mother took a sip of wine. The third glass already. His father cut into his steak with a large knife.

"How was school?"

Benjamin straightened. "Fine."

His mother finished her glass. His father brought his fork to his mouth.

Benjamin didn't want to be there, sitting at the dining room table in his parents' house. He wanted to be back in his own apartment, with his normal clothes, and he wanted to stop acting so formal.

He wanted to stop acting as if this was all okay.

"And your grades?" This came from his father.

"They're fine."

His father was not happy with that answer. Benjamin knew he wouldn't, because his father was never happy with him - not a surprise. Ever since Benjamin could remember, his father hated him. He was never good enough, but his twin was the greatest thing to walk the Earth. Even after Lennard ran away, he was the perfect child.

Benjamin was sure it was because of what happened all those years ago. He was sure that if things had happened differently, then his father wouldn't be so upset with him. But, it was too late, and Benjamin knew there was no turning back. Just groveling, now that he was trapped under his parents' roof.

Benjamin could see the fire in his father's eyes. It was the same fire that drew his mother to drinking. The same fire that made Lennard and Benjamin run away in the first place. "Fine isn't good enough! Fine doesn't get you into a good school. Fine doesn't begin to even equate to your brother-"

Benjamin stood up. "I'm not Lennard! How you would you even know how he's doing? He's not here, now is he? I get it, he was your favorite. But he is gone."

Benjamin didn't want to be Benjamin anymore. He wanted to be Minny, but his parents didn't like that side of him. And why would they - Minny dressed and acted like a normal high schooler. His parents didn't want that.

His parents wanted a scholarly son that would go off to Harvard, or Princeton, and make all the other rich people in his parents' circle proud.

Minny didn't want that. But as long as he was under his parents' roof, he was Benjamin. And he didn't have an option. Not when his parents were threatening him.

Well, more like his father. His mother was a different story.

"Do not talk to me like that. Now sit back down because we're having dinner. And you will listen to me, Benjamin. You can't escape this time."

Benjamin knew this. And it had all to do with the compact he gave to Polly.

He also knew that Lennard's disappearance pushed his parents over the edge. He'd always wished that he had been the favorite son, but that would never happen. Not when he was the youngest, the most worthless, and clearly the most embarrassing son. He was supposed to go out, make a living, and be someone worth something, but all he wanted to do was be himself. Be Minny.

But, he was Benjamin. And Benjamin didn't make a scene during dinner. Benjamin was polite, scholarly, knowledgeable. Benjamin was supposed to be the real him.

Only, he wasn't, and he knew this. Oh, he knew this so well. All of his life, Benjamin had been told that he was an intelligent young man with plenty of good looks and a whole life ahead of him. He was told that his charming personality would get him places. And so far, it had. But, it wasn't who he really was.

No, he was Minny. A young boy, not afraid to make mistakes, and certainly not afraid to be the almost-eighteen year old he was. Minny wore the clothes he liked, and picked the people he wanted to be around.

He had two faces.

All his life, he wanted to decide which was real and which was fake. He knew which one was the real him, but his life and his parents had a different life for him. A life of riches and intelligent conversations with politicians. A life where he lived in a sprawling mansion, wearing expensive clothing, and was married to a woman his parents approved of.

He didn't want that. He didn't want to be Benjamin.

He wanted to be Minny. He wanted to be himself. Not the shadow of a boy pretending to be a man.

He didn't have a choice. Not under his parents' roof.

"Don't make us regret having you home, son. You don't want to know the consequences."

No, Benjamin didn't. His fist clenched around his fork, but he kept his face neutral of emotion. He hated his parents. He hated them so much that it hurt to be near them. But, his father was cunning, and he knew exactly what it took to bring him back here.

"You're switching schools." His father was the king of abruptness, and his comment caught Benjamin off guard. So much that he began to choke on the piece of steak in his mouth. His father didn't move to help him cough up the food lodged in his throat, but that was expected.

"I'm a senior. My time at high school is almost over-"

"I've deemed that school unworthy of your time. I've already pulled you out. You start your new school in a few days."

Benjamin didn't argue - he couldn't. Not with his father. Not when he was already hanging from a noose, one pull away from dying at the hands of his father.

His family was predictable. They didn't have faces, they were consistent. His father was always the sharp tongued man he was tonight. His mother was always the frightened little mouse. Even in front of others they acted the same.

And this move was completely predictable. Of course his father would transfer him. It made sense - if he went to a high class school, his parents wouldn't have to worry about him acting his age. No, they'd be comforted by the thought that their son would be enrolled in a prestigious school that enforced uniforms and nothing short of the best.

Benjamin gripped his fork tightly. You are fine. You will survive this.

But he wasn't sure he would.

* * *

Dreams were an interesting concept.

Polly wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not as she stared at her ceiling. There was something on the ceiling, staring back at her. It looked like a drawing, though not one she'd drawn. It looked like it was created with crayon.

Polly couldn't really make out what it was supposed to be, so she sat up and tried to figure it out.

She couldn't.

There was a bang somewhere in the house, and Polly looked over at her alarm clock. It blinked at her, red and angry, and the numbers were blurred when she looked at them. When she blinked, the numbers cleared up.

3:27 am.

Polly moved out of bed when another bang resounded throughout the house. It was eerie and almost haunting, like she was suddenly a part of a paranormal movie. Polly, however, knew that wasn't the case. Or, she hoped that wasn't the case.

She opened her bedroom door, and she paused for a moment. The hallway was silent, like it should be at such a time. It was dark, and her cousin's door was shut. So were her aunt's and uncle's door.

She crept down the hallway, silent. It wasn't hard on the carpeted flooring, but when she got to the stairs, she sucked in a breath. At the bottom of the stairs sat her cousin, hunched over and crying. The sobs were silent, but the shaking of Jenny's shoulders was a telltale sign of tears.

Polly wasn't sure what to do. She moved down the stairs, almost afraid to scare the girl. Jenny and her hadn't exactly clicked in the past, but Polly wanted to make amends with her. Afterall, Jenny was her cousin.

Polly placed a hand on Jenny's shoulder, and then felt dread when her cousin tensed up. She wanted to say that everything would be alright, but Polly wasn't sure it would be. She wasn't even sure why her cousin was crying.

"Polly," her name came out in a whisper. "There is someone in the kitchen."

Jenny's face was still in her hands, obscured from view. It made her voice muffled and hard to understand, but Polly understood perfectly well what she was saying. As Polly straightened, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Jenny didn't look at her, and Polly took that as a sign to continue to the kitchen. A smart move would have been to wake up her aunt and uncle. A smarter move would have been to go back to her room, where she was safe.

Well, more safe than this.

Polly imagined scenarios that involved the person who owned the contact, standing in the kitchen, ready to kidnap her. She pictured her parents. She pictured Doctor Higgins. She ran out of people to picture when she arrived at the bend in the hallway, and she knew when she turned the corner, she'd see who was in the kitchen.

She took a steadying breath, then glanced back to see if Jenny had followed her. When there was no sight of her cousin, Polly stepped around the bend.

And almost ran back up the stairs.

There, seated on the counter, was Jenny. She was licking something off of her fingers, and her legs were moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

She wasn't looking at Polly. She was staring at something else in the kitchen, out of view from Polly. Polly would have loved to believe that this was a dream, but it felt too real. So real that she pinched herself and didn't wake up.

The Jenny in the kitchen laughed. The stretch of hallway from where Polly was rooted and where the kitchen began seemed to stretch on forever, the space between elongating. Polly retraced her steps to the stairs, dread filling the pit of her stomach when Jenny was no longer there.

How on Earth did Jenny get to the kitchen? Polly didn't want to know.

She turned back to the kitchen and closed her eyes. Jenny was saying something, but Polly couldn't make out what she was saying. It sounded like gibberish, like another language, and Polly's head was spinning.

This isn't real, this is a dream, this is a sick nightmare.

"Polly, come play! This man says he knows you!" Jenny's voice sounded like normal. It sounded like the Jenny who was sitting on the steps. It sounded like the Jenny from the daytime. No distortion, no tricks. Polly though had a hard time believing that this was real.

It couldn't be.

"He says he has this fun camp I could go to! The same one you went to!"

Polly felt the blood roar in her ears. She knew she needed to go into the kitchen, see Doctor Higgins, and call the police for his trespassing. First though she needed to make sure it was actually him in the kitchen.

Polly walked towards the kitchen, heart pounding, her focus on Jenny.

Until Jenny turned towards her, and Polly looked into a set of black eyes. There was no white around the pupil - just darkness that seemed to suck Polly in. And it was at that moment that Polly knew this had to be a dream.

What else could it be?

Across from Jenny stood Doctor Higgins in a nicely pressed suit. He was smiling at her, with a pair of normal eyes. He looked real, and he looked terrifying.

Polly sucked in air so quickly it made her limbs tingle with the signs of hyperventilation. Doctor Higgins just smiled at her, so calmly that it made Polly uneasy. It was the smile of a man who had everything he wanted. The smile of a man who had no worries.

"Ah, Polly. Welcome back, my dear. I've missed you."

When Polly looked back at Jenny, she looked normal. No strange black eyes. Just a creepy smile that came from a little girl who was awake at nearly 4 am.

"Why are you here?" Are you even here?

"For you, of course. Polly, you didn't think we were over did you, darling?"

Yes! Polly screamed internally. I did think we were over!

Outloud, Polly said, "Your father let me go."

Doctor Higgins laughed, and it was rich and carefree. He laughed like what Polly said had been a joke.

"You honestly didn't think I'd let you go that fast, did you? Oh, Polly dear, you're so funny."

In a flash, he was gripping Polly's waist, and no matter how she twisted, she couldn't break free of his hold on her. She imagined that this was where he threw her over his shoulder and walked back outside, stuffing her in his trunk.

Instead, he leaned forward, close enough to kiss her. Close enough where she could see the freckles on his face. Close enough that her heart nearly skipped a beat.

"You're so much more beautiful now. You look so free and healthy. So unlike when you were with me and you refused to eat."

Polly didn't know how to take that, or how to respond, so she said nothing.

Doctor Higgins moved one hand to cup her cheek, tender and soft. So unlike him that it made Polly freeze in his grasp. His fingers were soft, and she felt her head spin with confusion. She didn't know if she was dreaming or not. She didn't know why Doctor Tanner would be here.

"I've messed up, Polly. I never, ever meant to hurt you. You have to believe me. When my father let you go, it was the most painful moment of my life. Losing you." He let out a crazed laugh. "You were never mine, but having you so close made me think that for a moment, you were. And when I lost you, I felt like everything was ending."

Suddenly, both hands were on her cheeks, and his fingers turned hard. Fear wormed its way into her stomach as his hands grew sharp, and his fingernails dug into her cheeks, hard but not quite hard enough to break skin.

Fear wrapped around her, and her breathing grew shallow as she looked up into his dark eyes. The nightmare wasn't over - he'd found her. And, he still intended to cause her harm. It was stupid of her to have ever believed she was safe. It was clear that her past was continuing to haunt her.

"Polly, I love you. I need to fix you." Then, his nails dug into the soft flesh of her cheeks, and it was so quick, it caught Polly off guard. The pain that blossomed in her face made her flinch, but she couldn't escape his hands.

She let out a whimper. Completely pathetic and very much like her. Polly was a kitten; she was a damsel in distress. For years, she'd always wanted to be her own hero - strong enough to save herself. But, Polly wasn't like that. She wasn't all that strong, wasn't all that fierce, and couldn't protect herself from the hardships of life.

She put her hands over his, to try and pry them from her cheeks. "Please, please let me go!"

Doctor Higgins laughed. "Is little Polly done fighting? Where is that anger that I've grown so accustomed to?

She didn't have an answer. To be honest, Polly was just plain tired. She longed for her nightmares to end. She longed to be safe. She longed to be normal.

The nails in her cheeks deepened. "I'm never letting you go."

But, unlike his words, he let go of her face. The grin that he wore was enough to terrify her as she stumbled back, away from him. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she felt nauseous. She felt confused by his words, and confused by what this all meant.

"You see, my dear Polly, I am never letting you go. I will continue to haunt your dreams. I will continue to plague your thoughts. And I will continue to hunt you down until you unravel at the edges and go completely insane. Insane enough to come back to me."

Jenny jumped off the counter at that moment, cackling, and put her hands on Polly's cheeks, ignoring the puncture wounds in her face. "Time to wake up, Polly. Wake up!"

And then, Polly did, the sounds of her screams echoing through the entire house as she sat up in bed, covered in a layer of sweat. Her aunt and uncle were there, in the room, and so was Jenny. Polly tried to stop screaming, but she couldn't. She felt raw, like Doctor Higgins had really been in her kitchen. When her hands felt her face, there was no blood, no wounds. Just skin.

When she looked at Penny, her face was caught in a smirk. A smirk unlike the elementary school girl Polly had gotten to know. Truth was, Jenny unnerved Polly. There was something about the girl that didn't seem okay.

"Will Polly be okay?" she asked, and the smirk was gone, replaced by a concerned look of almost fear. The question was whispered to her father, but Polly heard it from across the room. And all she could picture was Jenny sitting on the kitchen counter, eyes completely black, and a grin the size of her face.

Polly was living a nightmare. And she was no closer to finding out who owned the compact.

* * *

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