"Coraline! How dare you disobey your mother?!"

Her voice echoes down the hallway as the Other Wybie frantically tries to push me through the small door, stubbornly refusing when I try to convince him to come along and escape that demon's wrath. But before either of us can get any further, my 'mother' reaches the decaying living room, grabbing hold of me and half-carrying, half-dragging me down the hallway. I thrash in her arms, willing her vice-like grip on me to loosen, but to no avail. The dark, enclosed space behind the hall mirror is where I find myself tossed, the ghost children waiting there in despair.

"You can never escape...her web is too strong," one says.

"Indeed, miss. You failed in retrieving our eyes..." says another.

"I tried, I really did, but she caught me!" I protest. Suddenly, in the span of a blink, I'm tied to a chair in the kitchen, the same woman from before turned skeletal and tall standing before me with a needle in her bony hand. A roll of thread and two shiny, jet-black buttons rest on the sickeningly pretty table beside me.

There is no escaping her anymore. She has me in her grasp. The only thing I can do now is let out an ear-splitting scream of agony as I feel the needle pierce my skin, just as she's always wanted.

I awake just then, pure terror filling the scream that hasn't stopped, cold sweat running down my back and tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I'm shaking like a leaf, too scared to even speak, let alone move. Having no doubt heard my screaming, my mother Mel appears in my room at once, clad in her favourite pajama bottoms and a comfortable-looking sweatshirt. Looking very concerned, she flicks on my bedroom light and rushes to my side. "Coraline, are you alright?"

I'm unable to answer at first as my fear still has me paralyzed, which only adds to her worry. She can see the panic in my eyes, see just how badly I'm trembling as I warily scan her features for any signs of their being a disguise. But to my relief, she looks perfectly normal just as she has every time I've woken from one of these damned nightmares. No buttons, no cracks in a face made of porcelain. Just her regular human face, real eyes and all.

Seeing what I'm doing - again - and not bothering to ask why this time, Mom wraps her arms around me in a protective, comforting hug and I lean into her touch. She's asked me why I do things like that so many times that she's long since given up trying to get the answer out of me. Just as I gave up on trying to tell either of my parents about everything that happened three years ago. If I had kept trying, they would have probably told me to get a psychiatric evaluation or had me put on medication. But I know I'm not crazy, nor had I simply dreamt all those horrifying events. Truthfully, it would have been a lot easier if I had, instead of having to go through life knowing that these things were - are - all too real even when almost no one else does. Knowing that I can never tell anyone else, least of all my parents.

After several minutes of Mom gently stroking my hair and encouraging me to take deep breaths, I'm finally calm enough to speak, although my voice is just as shaky as the rest of me has been. "The basement flat's empty now, right, Mom?"

"Yeah, the old neighbors finally moved out last night. Why?" she asks, looking puzzled as she breaks our hug.

"I..." I swallow thickly, fighting to keep my panic from rising again as vivid memories keep trying to play in my mind. "I think maybe we should move into it. I can't take these nightmares anymore, and - and maybe if we do that, they'll go away. Please, Mom," I desperately beg. I just want this to be over. I can't keep living like this, knowing I live in the same place as that door. Even just moving one flat away will put me farther from it. Farther from her.

Mom sighs. "I'll think about it, okay? I'll need to talk to your father about it first. I know there are people who are about to move into the Pink Palace and they have a daughter your age, so there's a chance they might be willing to switch with us. Just don't hold your breath; it's obviously not a guarantee. Will you be okay to go back to sleep now, Coraline?"

I hesitantly nod, taking a deep breath to keep calm. "I think so."

"Okay, then. Goodnight," replies my mother as she flicks off the light and shuts the door behind her. I try my best to fall back asleep, despite the fact that I'm scared to death of the nightmares, and after what seems like hours of endless tossing and turning, the sleep I manage to slip into is mercifully dreamless. It's funny...I used to love dreaming. Wandering through my dreamscape always felt like an adventure. Exploring the depths of my own mind, seeing what outlandish scenarios my subconscious felt like conjuring up...it had been nothing short of exciting. Until the Other World. Until her.

If only I had never caught sight of that little door in our living room, never begged my mother relentlessly to unlock it. Then I might never have known the perils of the Other World and its twisted ruler. But when I was lured back to the door later that night and I caught sight of that portal, I thought I'd landed myself in a vivid dream or something and, well...it was a glowing tunnel behind a tiny door in an otherwise boring apartment! What would anyone else have done? Just ignored something that intriguing?!

I think not.

The world it led to was beautiful, better than home in almost every way at first. But it was all just a twisted illusion, the icing on top of a deadly trap. No real mother would ever convince her children to have buttons sewn into their eyes so she could feed on their life forces and condemn their spirits to live in that desolate mirror room.

I had been strong enough to resist her charms and refuse, but being presented with those buttons was just the beginning of the nightmare. I was held prisoner in the mirror room, where I learned the truth about this sugar-coated spiderweb from the ghosts of children she'd murdered in the past, forced to win back my parents in a game in which she was bound to cheat after she stole them from the real world, and was finally faced with her as she truly was, the façade finally falling away.

The Other Mother...no, the Beldam's true form was one of the most terrifying things I'd ever seen in my life, but I'd had to face it, trick her, in order to get the door key back. A towering, arachnid-like hag with needles for fingers and stringy, black hair. The same buttons from before. Cracked, papery-white skin like porcelain.

After fighting like hell to get away as she pursued me, I escaped for the last time. I freed the ghost children's souls that same night, hid the key in the old well near my home and destroyed the needle-hand that chased me there. With help, of course.

And that was the end of it all. I could finally breathe - or so I thought. Because the nightmares of the Beldam still haunt me.

When morning arrives, overcast and gloomy-looking, I go downstairs to find my parents sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. My father, Charlie, takes a sip of his coffee before telling me to sit down. "We have something we need to talk about."

Great. There's a sentence that always leads to a good conversation. But what Mom says next proves that sarcastic thought wrong. "I spoke with Mrs. Lovat and the new tenants this morning, and we've all agreed to let the family have this flat in exchange for us moving into the basement one. I was surprised Mrs. Lovat agreed to the change so quickly, but it was kind of like she was expecting it to happen. So, we move down there in a week. Congratulations, Coraline, you got your wish."

The relief that floods through me at those words makes me feel like a heavy weight has just been lifted from my shoulders. I eat my breakfast quickly - maybe a little too quickly, judging by the feeling in my chest - and after brushing my teeth I immediately head into the living room, sinking into one of the armchairs to think. The new family that's moving into the building has a kid my age. A daughter. And I already know what's going to happen once the Beldam realizes - if she hasn't already - that she's coming. And I decide right away that I can't just sit back and do nothing. In my mind, that would be like giving the Beldam a written invitation to capture this girl. So not going to happen.

Oh, I am going to be a thorn in your side for the rest of your miserable existence, you evil witch...

I turn my gaze to the little door and fix it with a steely glare. "If you go after the new tenants, I swear to whatever deity is out there that I will crawl back through that door and kill you. And this time I'll make sure it sticks. I may have hidden the key in the well, but there is nothing stopping me from picking the lock. So leave them alone. Leave all of us alone. Understood?" I growl at it, fairly confident she or her little spies can hear me. In response, I swear I hear a faint whisper from beyond the door, but it's so subtle that I can't make out the words. But then I hear my mother's voice, much louder, from the doorway. "Who are you talking to?"

I freeze. She stands with her arms crossed, waiting for an explanation. "No one. Just thinking out loud. You know - story ideas," I cover quickly, dashing out of the room and hurriedly donning my bright yellow boots and raincoat. The only reason that lie works as well as it does is that I really have gotten into writing over the last couple of years, ever since I tried typing out a short story on Dad's computer while he was out once and realized how good of an outlet that could be. The look on his face when he found out was kind of priceless, since I'm not supposed to touch his computer, but I didn't get into as much trouble as I thought I would because he liked the idea of me channeling my imagination that way. I still don't have my own computer yet, but I do carry a notebook around with me all the time in case inspiration ever hits.

I walk for quite awhile before I realize I've nearly arrived at the place where I first met Wybie Lovat.

The well.

When I do get there, I sit on the tree stump beside it to rest and feel something soft and furry brush against my legs. Looking down, I see the nameless stray black cat that follows Wybie and me around all the time. He helped me out a great deal in the Other World, where he was able to speak, so I owe him a lot. "Hey there, wuss-puss," I greet him affectionately. He'd despised the nickname at first, but after awhile it just sort of stuck as a term of endearment. Once he caught on to the fact that I wasn't insulting him anymore, he even warmed up to it - but the name was only acceptable to him if it came from me or Wybie.

I sit there and stroke the feline's dark fur gently until I hear the familiar rumble of Wybie's bike. It's the same bike he was riding when he accidentally knocked me into the mud on the day we met, and as much as I found him more annoying than anything back then, I can't help but smile at the memory. He truly has become my closest friend. As for the bike, I asked him once where he got it and he sheepishly responded, "Well, actually, I, uh...I built it myself."

I could see the pride in his eyes when he said it, though, and the fact that a then-eleven-year-old was able to build a bike like that on his own was just awesome to me. I didn't hesitate to tell him that, either, and my words made him smile. He's continued to maintain and make improvements to it as time's passed.

"Hey, Jonesy," he calls to me now, "How long have you been here?"

"Awhile," I answer, as the cat hops onto my lap, his blue eyes bright with contentment. "I have news." I go on to explain what my mother told me this morning.

"New neighbours, huh?" he says. "What do you think they'll be like? Do you think the kid'll find the, uh..." he pauses. "The door?"

"It's...not exactly well-hidden, Wybie," I remind him, a sharp stab of dread piercing me as I speak. "The best we can hope is that she doesn't try to open it."

I don't add out loud that if the worst does come true, the Beldam will have one hell of a fight on her hands because I don't plan on making things easy for her. I'm starting to understand what the cat meant the night he first spoke to me in her World.

"It's a game we play."

Well, then, 'Mother'...let the next round of our game begin.