Chapter 1

Meet SweetPea, a girl in her head who makes a decision to leave home and save the girl who saved her.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. She saved me, gave me a new life, and all I did was walk away.  How could I do that to a girl, whom I barely even knew? It’s been nine months, and I hadn't thought of going back to Lockwood until now. Part of me feels guilty that I stayed away for so long. I was able to get my freedom because of the girls that sacrificed everything, and all I could do was sit around and cry. 

I finally understand why no one could keep their eyes off BabyDoll while she danced. It’s because she let the music alter her reality. She was able to imagine a different world where we were the heroes, and the enemies cowered in our wake. She sacrificed so much, and I just walked away. 

Recently I’ve been thinking about her more.  Something keeps telling me to go back and save her.  Although, it was BabyDoll who told me that this was my story. That I had to be the one to escape. But I refuse to believe that. It isn’t my story, or hers, or any of the other girls that lost their lives trying to fight a war they would never win. But it is all of our’s. The journey to freedom was fought together, and it always will be. But I can tell you one thing.

It isn't over.

Everyone would call it crazy, but I call it courage. Leaving BabyDoll behind was a mistake I can never forgive myself for, and now I don't have to. I'm going to make it right. I have no idea if she is still alive, but that's no matter, because I'm going to make sure no evil man can ever abuse a system like that again.

***

For the past nine months I've been trying to fit myself back into my interrupted life. My step dad was taken to jail for sending me to Blue under false allegations, and my mother has been bedridden since my return. Once she found out my sister was killed, and I was alive, her heart couldn't take the shock. I remember telling my mother about the years we spent at Lockwood. Telling her the truth was hard but seeing the light leave her eyes when i told her about Rocket was worse. 

It was bad enough that Rocket was stabbed right in front of me, her blood on my hands, me, blaming myself… But now I have my own mother, unable to forgive me because I failed in my job as an older sister.  I let her die of foolishness. I tried to protect her when what I should've done was made sure she was out and safe, living the life she deserved. The life I escaped with. The one I took from those girls. Amber, Blondie, Rocket, even BabyDoll. It’s hard for me to put my guilt past me.  But through the months of therapy I've been put through, I'm always told to remember it's not my fault those girls died for me to be free.  

About 5 times a session my therapist tells me I’m safe. I almost laugh at the suggestion when she says it. I can't shake that feeling of guilt for leaving BabyDoll behind, or the shame I feel for the years of abuse. Each session is the same. Dr. Barkley starts by reminding me we are alone, and safe. She asks me about my past week, and how I've been feeling since being home. She reminds me that my mothers current state is not my fault, and that the best I can do is keep moving forward. Every month we fill out paperwork about my wellbeing. There’s questions that ask about my mental state. Do i feel like hurting others? Am i safe at home? Do i see a future for myself? I lie every time. If i tell the truth, im likely to end up back where i started, and nothing is worth risking what i must do next. 

Today I take the last of the money I have to buy a bus ticket. All the while remembering everything I saw at Lockwood. Things I could never forget: The dark, cold rooms, those men, greedy and demanding, Blue with his aggressiveness, the way he made us feel dirty and used. The thought of leaving BabyDoll there made my heart ache. I had to set things right.

Like the commander always said, “if you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything.” I was choosing to stand for something and get her out. I pondered the saying. During therapy Dr. Barkley would tell me the commander was a figment of my imagination, used as a coping skill during tough moments. But I wasn't sure if I was insane, or if he was real? 

She always tells me to start with what I know is real. Rocket is dead. This I know is real. The way she died is up for discussion. Dr. Barkley is adamant that what happened was an accident, that her death was reported differently than what I told her. So she tells me to start with what is simple. I do this in my head when my breathing feels shallow and my thoughts scramble faster than I can sort through them. 

My name is Ksenia, I am 26 years old, I am free from Lockwood…

It works well enough. But somewhere in my nine months of intensive therapy, I made a decision to go back. At first I tossed and turned with the idea at night, wondering how I could possibly get in. One night, when I was lying in bed doing my usual ‘whats real’ routine, it hit me. The only way to shake this feeling would be to go back and save her. How could I sleep so peacefully when I knew what BabyDoll was up against? 

It's lucky that during my escape from Lockwood, after getting through those big lattice gates, I was able to get an address: 227 Serenity Way. Even the name was a lie. I'll be honest, I have no real plan, just the beginnings of one. 

Through my thoughts I hear an announcement that Bus 42 is pulling into the station. “Bus 42 Now arriving. Please have all passes ready when boarding. Have a safe trip!”

I begin boarding the bus. The clock just above the driver says noon. When its my turn, I pass my bus ticket to the driver, who stamps it without a second glance at me. I retrieve it and start making my way to an empty seat near the back of the bus. There aren't a whole lot of passengers so I figure it should be an easy 3 hour trip to Virginia. I settle into the cushioned seats easily, and quickly become enthralled in my thoughts.

 I didn't tell the people in my new life where I was going. Not that there were many to tell. I often kept to myself. Dr. Barkley and my mom were the people I saw the most besides the lady who worked the counter at the local Cash N Grab corner store. I left my mom a note letting her know I was off to a new start to make my own way. She likely wouldn't see it for a few days until she decided to crawl out of bed for her weekly appearance. I made a call to Dr. Barkley’s office to cancel all my future appointments as well. I remember that vividly. 

“Dr. Barkley.” She said to the point. I wasted no time. 

“Hi, Dr. Barkley, It's Ksenia. I wanted to give you a call to cancel all my future appointments. I'm Leaving.” I was fidgeting with some lint on my pants, nervous to hear what she would say next. There was a pause before she spoke.

“Ksenia, you are an adult, but I have to tell you that I would strongly advise against it. We haven’t begun all the work we need to do.” She said sweetly. 

“I know.” I agreed. “I was hoping you could email me some recommendations.” I paused slightly. “I want to get better, but I can't do it sitting around here.” 

I could hear her momentarily sigh. “I can email you some options for telehealth, but I wouldn't advise it.” She paused. “Ksenia, you are strong. I really hope you find what you’re looking for. But if you’re ever back in town, please, don’t hesitate to reach out.” She said this with meaning. 

Tears welled in my eyes as I forced out a response. “Thank you, Dr. Barkely. Truly.” 

“I wish you well.” She said, and with that I heard the click of the phone hanging up, and the buzz of the receiver. 

I wanted to tell her what I was up to. I so badly wanted her to tell me not to go, that I was crazy and this would fail. I wanted a reason to stay. 

 But I couldn't risk the termination of my mission. If I told Dr. Barkley what I was planning on doing she would have to notify the authorities. I thought to myself, if I would have known I would take this chance, if I would have had the smallest inkling of knowing I would go back, would I refuse? Would I still feel guilty in leaving for my relief but in BabyDoll’s pain? It was something I could probably never answer.  

It makes no difference because today, I start to make my own story. Today, I'll reach deep within to find my courage. Today, we will begin a new journey long overdue. My first priority was to get myself into a comfortable living situation, check out that place of hell, and then figure out where to go next. I often thought that making a plan before leaving would be best but I couldn’t sit around that empty house anymore, reminiscing. 

I must have dozed off because something startled me awake.  My eyes snapped open and my memory exploded with images.  I recognized this place.  Before I knew what I was doing, I shot up from my seat.

“Here!  I want to get off here!”  The bus slammed on its breaks and nearly sent me flying.  But I grabbed everything I came with and ignored the glares I got, briskly walking to the front of the bus.  Without so much as another word, I got off the bus and stood there as it drove away.  The dust it kicked up tickled my nose and I coughed gently.  Then I made my way across the street and began walking.  I didn't know where yet, but I hope to find out soon. There had to be a local store around that had a map, even lodgings to help with planning. It seemed I was on a road that had a few businesses, though most looked close to shutting down. I caught a glimpse of a small, family owned bookstore and began walking, shielding my eyes from the late afternoon sun. The familiar sound of my old tennis shoes against the sidewalk was comforting, and slowly changed to a light pitter as I stepped into the carpeted, old, and dusty Books N’ Things.

The air smelled of old bookpages and knowledge. A quick look around told me this store was ancient. As I walked forward and looked to my left, I could see no one in the checkout line, and no one behind the desk. The store was so quiet, I could hear the words to an old tune on the radio, playing in the back of the store. I walked forward, feeling my feet with each step. The shelves to either side of me were lined with a thick layer of dust. I took my pointer finger and drew a line near the local history section, coughing as it drew up flurries of dust into my face. Brushing my finger off on my pants, I walked slowly towards the back, looking at the sections as I went. 

Any old map would do really, as long as it showed the street name I needed. As I made my way, curving around the souvenirs and vintage trinkets, a voice startled me.

“Well hello! It’s so nice to see a customer!” I started, turning around quickly, and backing up towards the shelf behind me. I could hear some trinkets rattling as I jostled the shelf. A chipper woman who was all smiles and rosy cheeks looked at me gladly. She was very purple. Purple clothes, shoes, and nails. “Gary we gave a customer! Come here!” She yelled, turning her head slightly to the back of the store while her eyes stayed trained on me. 

She clasped her hands together excitedly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It's been so long since we’ve had a customer!” She leaned closer. “Gary’s nice but he’s not much of a talker.” She whispered as I heard trudging footsteps coming from the back. 

I laughed nervously, still pressed against the shelf. She smelled like lilacs, and her hair was thrown messily on top of her head in a sort of bun, though I'll admit it fit her well. She waved her hands a lot as she spoke, like the words would come out of her fingertips when she talked.

“What can we do for you?” She asked, eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. 

I fidgeted, and maneuvered away from the shelf. “I was hoping you had a map…” I trailed off, unsure of what else to say. 

I didn’t need to say anymore, she flitted across the store to the front, waving me along. “Business or pleasure?” She questioned. 

“What?” I knitted my eyebrows together in confusion. 

“Are you visiting on account of business or pleasure?” She repeated. 

“Pleasure?” I said, unsure. “I’m visiting a friend.” I kept it short and sweet. 

Just then I heard the trudging footsteps behind me and saw an older man come into view. He was short, and all devoid of color except for his very white beard and hair. He had brown glasses slung lazily across his face, and an intense but far away look on his face. I smiled at him, but he didn't seem to notice. He went behind the counter, and started rooting in the used books bin, seemingly looking for something important. 

“Well there’s so much to do here, don’t let the quiet fool you.” The purple woman said. “Remember that carnival we had 6 years ago Gary? What fun we had!” She enthused. Gary grunted, still rooting in the bin. 

She turned quickly just then, taking a dusty paper down from a higher shelf, handing it to me. “Here you are!” She squeaked. 

“Thanks. Could you show me where we are on the map? I didn’t catch the name of the street right off the bus.” I tell her, unfolding it on the counter. Little dust flakes went into the air, making both of us wave our hands to clear it away.

She grabbed a pencil and pointed at the map. “We’re here, on Louck Lane.” She circled the location of the bookstore. “Where are you headed, sweetheart?” She looked at me expectantly. 

“Serenity Way.” I said with finality, not offering anymore information. She looked at my face, studying me. I shifted on my feet and looked at the map, waiting. Just then Gary stopped abruptly, and walked over. The purple lady stepped aside and let him have the pencil. He drew a clear path from the bookstore to the street I needed, without a word. When he was done, he grunted and walked back to the bin. 

“He’s not much of a talker. Ever since we were kids, I’ve done the talking. She mused. “Valerie.” She held out her hand. “That’s Gary.” She pointed. 

I shook her hand and her gaze softened. She looked at me, eye to eye, and squeezed my hand. “Do you need anything else?” 

I shook my head. She dropped my hand and I gathered the map back up, holding it firmly. “Be safe.” She stated. “We’re here if you need anything else.” 

I nodded a thank you and headed towards the door and out into the cool. The sky was a pretty orange and pink with hints of blue. I checked the time on my watch. It was nearing evening. I checked the dusty map for nearby lodgings.

BabyDoll and I would need somewhere to stay. I had used the last of my money to buy a ticket. I looked around. There were some people, milling about. A few birds chirped in the distance.  The people, the stores, even the slow and sour air wasn't familiar to me. Locked up for those years, we saw the sun through windows. But, in those days, not even the sun could cheer me up as it did when I was a child. Now, I needed therapeutic sessions, and a trip down memory lane to when Rocket and I were kids. When we were happy and mom needed only us to keep her going. 

Back then we were a happy family. The kind you see on tv and think, that's what a family should be like. We were a broken family, yes, but we had all the pieces to keep us going. Mom worked first shift at a bar where guys hit on her, but she said it paid the bills. Around when I turned sixteen and Rocket was fourteen, mom began to have her new boyfriend over. He was nice at first but she met him where she worked, and I knew how guys were who came in that bar. 

They got married and finally our little family was complete. That's when things took a turn for the worst. He drank, and with the drinking came the hitting and the screams. When my sister couldn't take the abuse anymore, she ran away, and as her protector, I followed.  We were on the run for months until our step dad finally found us.  He lied to the police.   Called us crazy.  Said we deserved to be locked up with loonies like ourselves.  But secretly, he had a plan.  It only took 72 hours for their questioning and procedures.  And with only a blink of an eye, Blue stood before us, his evil smirk, taunting you as you walked through those doors you would never escape.  Everything happened in a blur. 

My memories never ceased to make some sort of rage filled sorrow arise in me.  I had to briskly wipe the tears away and stop to collect myself.  Start with what is real, I reminded myself. 

My name is Ksenia, I am 26, I am free. Rocket is dead… 

When I open my eyes, and take a quick glance, I see a glimpse of remembrance.  The streets, the buildings… they seemed vaguely familiar. I gathered up the map and began walking in the direction Gary gave me. 

I never wanted to see that place again, but I forced my body to walk farther down the street. I took my wits and pushed my fear down deep inside me.  I had no real plan on what to do next. I silently cursed myself for not thinking ahead of time. Where would I sleep? What would I say when I got there to get in? No doubt the place was still bunkered down. My mind raced with thoughts as I walked. 

It seemed the quiet roads never ended. Periodically, a car would pass by, and then it was quiet for a while. I enjoyed it, the walk, and the weather.  It was getting darker the more I walked, and my feet began to protest. I could see the sun sinking lower, and feel the slight chill of a breeze coming on. I kept walking, as I checked my map. I had been walking for a little over an hour, I had to be close.

As I suspected, I was. It was just near the bend of the next street ahead. 

When I got past that corner, I had set myself up to have a breakdown in the street… But instead I stood there, dropping the bags I came with and just staring.  I hesitantly stepped forward.  Was this the right address?

For Sale.

That's what the sign said, plastered across like a stamp on this building's original name.  I shook my head in a little bit of shock, some agony.  “BabyDoll…”  I breathed and stumbled forward.  I saw a middle aged man working on repairs for this place.  He looked contemptuous.  “Sir… This building… There was a girl who used to live here.  A bunch actually… Where are they?”  My voice quivered trying to keep it together. Had I really come all this way for nothing?

“Relocation.”  He said simply in a gruff voice.  “Them loonies are far gone.  Virginia I last heard.”  

“They aren't loonies!  They’re victims!”  I shouted before I could stop myself. The man looked at me startled and I turned away, gathering myself. “Somewhere in West Virginia.” I look back over my shoulder, a quizzical look on my face. 

“Huh?” I say.

“Last I heard, relocation was in West Virginia. You looking to be a part of the business?” He says, continuing his work. 

“Not necessarily.” I say just loud enough for him to barely hear. He must have caught what I said because he answers me prompt. “Ain't nothin you can do for them girls. They all out of this world. High Roller came for the last of them. Took they memories last i heard.” 

My heart smashes against the walls of my ribs. A big gaping hole has filled my stomach with pain. The High Roller did come. He came for BabyDoll. “You alright miss?” The man says.

“What? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Thank you for your help.” I smile weakly and unconvincingly. He grunts in return. I return to my bags, pick them up and head on my way. I have no money for another ticket, for anything really. 

Over the next hour, a heavy doubt weighs in my heart.  What if I couldn't save them all?  The workers, the victims?  That business is rough, things can go bad in the blink of an eye.  Innocent lives destroyed..

What kind of talk is this?  A voice wandered inside the walls of my skull. Where's the SweetPea I know? This time the voice startles me. I know that voice. I shake my head clear and keep moving forward. Stick to what is real, I tell myself. Just as I'm about to recite the familiar words to ground me, I hear a voice. 

“She definitely isn't the girl I see right now.”  This time the voice wasn't from inside my head, but to the left of me.  A man, casually leaning on the wall of a building.  My heart skipped seeing his features.

“Commander…?”  I blink twice and take a step forward to make sure it wasn't a hallucination.

He pushed himself off the wall and slowly walked toward me.  It was as if he was a ghost because my face surely went pale from seeing him. He stood there, a knowing look on his face. “SweetPea.” He greets me. 

“Your… how did you… This is impossible.” I breathe heavily. So much has happened already today that I'm overwhelmed. My bags drop to the ground. “Commander… She's gone…” The tears flow down for the first time in what seems like forever. Heavily. My words come out spaced, barely able to put a sentence together. “The High Roller… She's gone… Lobotomy… Couldn't save her… West Virginia… Stuck… No money… She should've escaped!”  I finally get it all out. He puts his hands on my shoulder. 

“Come on. Let's get you some food and rest. You could use it.” He tucks me under his arm and we walk. It seems like hours before we reach our destination. My feet protesting in my old tennis shoes.  

The whole time my mind couldn't wrap around the events, my life, why me? But this is nothing compared to what BabyDoll must be going through right now as I ask myself why I was given this life. What about her? Those other girls? As we walk on, we reach a beaten down, what once seemed like it was a baby blue house. The windows are dirty and the front lawn's grass hasn't been mowed in what could be years. But the beauty of its calmness, its real serenity, was enough to call me to it. My feet moved forward and I walked inside. The only difference was that what was left was clean. No less crummy, but still it was clean somehow. I could see a little bit of the kitchen from where I was standing, painted creamy yellow, the white cabinets were dry rotted but still, it seemed clean. Two doors on the left and right sides were closed. Each one a browning white.

As I stepped closer I could see there were fading kid drawings on the doors. Colorful and alive. Happy. Further in the house as I walked I saw the staircase leading up the stairs, a pretty light wooden color, spiraling up like it’s reaching a magical attic. 

“You can sleep wherever you please. I will wake you when supper is prepared.” The commander says to me, pulling me out of my reverie. 

“Thank you,” I say, ascending up the stairs. He nods, giving me a tentative smile. I head up, turning the first knob I see going up the stairs. The room is spacy, and blue. A pretty baby blue. A dresser is catty cornered on the left side of the bed, and a closet occupies the right. A few pictures, old and pretty, hang around. I put my things at the end of the bed and sit. Too bone tired to take off my shoes, I lay on one side of the bed, my hands under my head, ready for slumber. 

I expected no sleep but before I can even get to thinking, I'm fast asleep. I know I'm dreaming because I haven't seen a beautiful rainbow since I was a child. It stretches above me, so pretty and clear. I walk in the green field, to my childhood house, expecting to see Rocket. But the images tear away, and dark skies, war crafts, and bullets appear. There's a gun in my hand and I'm standing in the clearing in front of my mom’s house.  BabyDoll is dragged out by her hair. The man in front stops in front of me. 

“Shoot her.” He says in my face. His voice is raw, gruff, and loud. He points to BabyDoll. 

“What?” I say confused, lowering my gun to my side. “No.” I say viciously.

“SHOOT HER! NOW!” He yells, spittle flying into my face. My gun flies up and a bullet flies clean through his skull. I look up to see BabyDoll saying something to me. 

“Huh?” I move forward. “SweetPea.” She says. I move closer. “SweetPea. Supper’s ready.” She says.

I fly up in bed. Dizzy from moving so fast to see the commander standing over me. “Supper is ready.” He says. I nod a few quick times. Run my hands over my face and pause. It was only a dream, I think to myself. Only a dream. 

My hands are shaking and a sheen of sweat has covered my body. I take a moment to settle down, taking in what I just dreamt of. Looking down at my hands, I watch them as I take deep breaths, reciting what is real. Eventually, my hands are still, and the clamminess is gone. 

I slide my feet off of the bed, leaving my legs dangling for a moment, testing the waters to be sure the wave of dizziness is gone. Everything stays where it belongs, so I stand carefully, putting one foot in front of the other until I reach the staircase. As I descend, a waft of deliciousness hits my nose, and my stomach immediately answers. I place a hand on my lower belly as if to tell it to calm down.

Bounding down the stairs, I turn and enter the creamy yellow kitchen. On the old countertops there are two plates. Each filled with hot, good smelling food. I look around, wondering where the pots and pans are, or the leftovers. But, there's only two of us, and most likely I won't be here long. It does cross my mind that this might not be entirely real, but then how is there food in front of me? I think silently. The commander and I both sit down at the little table. Four chairs are set up around the table, each one a different pattern. 

I didn't have to think twice before stuffing my face with the wonderful food prepared to me, but as I ate, questions popped up.  My subconscious yearned to know all it could… Starting with: how the hell was I face to face with the commander of BabyDolls dream reality?  How was he real?

“I'm not, for starters.”  I was startled to hear him address me and confused to hear him answering a question I hadn't asked yet.  “You simply need a guide into battle.  Your subconscious mind chose me.”  Still trying to understand this, I look around me.

“So in a sense, I could be going crazy?”  The commander chuckled. Although in no way, shape, or form, was this amusing. My thoughts drift back to my sessions with Dr. Barkely. Was she right all along?

“Call it a friendly hallucination, if you will.” It's just as I thought. Does he know about the others, about what happened to those girls? 

“Blondie couldn't stay strong and thought she had found a friend in Madam Gorski, which led to Blue finding out. Blue shot Amber and Blondie, and Rocket was, well, you know.” So he does know. Of course he knows, he's my subconscious. That meant this man knew every aspect of my life.  In short, he was me.  “But yes,”. He continued.  “I'm a figment of your desperate mind, so all this time you have been sitting in an abandoned house outside of town, talking to no one.”  I gave him a startled look. What a way to put it bluntly.

“You girls called upon my guidance in your desperate need for freedom.  Well, I managed to help in the war, but with a high casualty rate.  Let's try not to do that this time.”  The commander stood up and pushed away from the table. He gathered both of our plates. I looked down in surprise to find that mine was clean, all the food gone. I must've been hungrier than I realized. 

“H-how will I find that place?  I don't even know how to get to West Virginia…”  With a charming smile, the commander winked.

“I never left my girls without hope and guidance.  Believe me when I say that in the chest over in the corner, it's real, whereas the fantasy you have created is not.  Go on, open it… The key is hanging up near the door…”  Cautiously I got to my feet and walked to the front door where I found a rusted key on a frayed rope loop. I crossed the room to the chest that the commander had been talking about.  I slipped the key in and turned, hearing the click from its release.  Slowly, I lifted the lid and my mouth dropped.  Wads of cash lay before my eyes.  Off to the left is what looked to be a few other essentials. A small black phone was placed carefully, next to a change of clothes, and a few family photos. I assumed this was left by the family that lived here, in case of emergencies. I almost felt a little guilty for what I was about to do. 

“Oh my gosh… Where did it all come from?”  There was silence for a few moments.  “Commander?”  When I turned around, my illusion and leader were gone.  

So this was all in my head… But even so, it led me to good fortune.  I had all the money I needed to get to West Virginia, I had a map to show me the location, and plenty more. My journey was looking up. For now though, I needed rest and a plan.

But where was I going to stuff all that cash?  Beginning to look around, it didn't take me long to find a badass looking back pack laying around.  Thanks commander.  I filled that bad boy up, bringing it up stairs to the room I was in and dropping it at the foot of the bed. I stood for a moment, listening to the sounds around me. I walked over to the window, releasing the larch and pushing it up. The cool air invited itself in, along with the comforting sounds of crickets. I took a deep breath, feeling my lungs fill as I turned away and released.

I could do with a shower. I was starting to feel like my clothes were plastered onto me. I rooted through my bag, gathering clothes. I only had two outfits, including the one I found in the chest, and they weren't exactly stylish. I decided on a comfy pair of yoga pants and an old shirt. I grabbed my clothes, heading to find the bathroom. In the hallway, the floor creaked, but the walls were pretty and lined with doors and familial pictures. I checked each door until I came upon a bathroom, completely bare of decoration. It looked like it hadn't been used in awhile, and there was a thin layer of dust on the sink. I rooted in the cabinets for a towel and came across some tucked away neatly in the storage closet attached to the bathroom. In it were some rags, a few soap bars that seemed dried and cracked but would do, and a bottle of very old shampoo that seemed to be good enough for one use. 

With some luck I got the shower working and waited until the line ran clear to step in. The water and steam felt amazing, like a hot massage all over my body. With some work, I got the cracked soap to lather and began scrubbing. I started with my feet, letting the soap and hot water ease some of the aches from walking miles. Gradually moving up I started on my hair, detangling as the soap ran down the drain. When I was done, I dried off, dressed quickly, and made my way down the long creaky hallway to the baby blue room. I wasted no time crawling back into bed, not bothering to put my dirty clothes in the bag. It seemed only seconds before I was fast asleep. 

After a dreamless and much needed rest, I awoke to a dim sunlight coming through the window. As my eyes adjusted to the rays of sunlight, I could hear the early birds, awake and singing. I stretched, yawning as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, trudging to the bathroom. When I finished, I cleaned my hands and looked in the mirror. My face was puffy with sleep, eyes drowsy. My hair was a bit tangled. I used my fingers to work my way through the knits, and admitted defeat when the last knot refused to listen.

The sunbathed baby blue room was as I left it, windows open and inviting. I walked over to close it, worried weather might get in, ruining the floors. I gathered my items at the end of the bed, shoving my clothing in one bag, and the money in the other. I turned on the burner phone briefly and waited for it to boot up. Placing my worn down shoes back on my feet I headed down the stairs. 

I looked around briefly, remembering to grab my map, circling the closest station. I took a deep breath and with a final boost of confidence I stepped out into the morning sun, hearing the click as the front door latched behind me. BabyDolls face was at the front of my thoughts.

Author's Note

This is an old work that me and a friend started back in high school. We’re 28 and I want to finish it. My goal is to keep the teen and young adult audience, but update the writing. POVs were all over the place, and it was a little fast paced. Please let me know any changes I could make.

Reviews

[Lauren]

“Hey, I read a bit of your work and really liked how you handle character voice. I’m developing a fantasy comic/graphic novel set in a protected woodland where humans, animals, and creatures can all communicate, with some humor mixed in. I’m mainly looking for help with dialogue and character moments. If that sounds interesting, feel free to reply or add me on Discord: laurendoesitall or Instagram: lizziedoesitall.”

[JayG]

• Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her.

Yeah, I miss my dog, too. Wait... She's not a dog? Well, I miss my old sailboat, too. She was wonderful. No? Well...

My point? You’re talking about a “she” who, or what, could be anyone or anything. So as the line is read it’s meaningless to the one you write it for.

• She saved me, gave me a new life, and all I did was walk away

So an unknown “she” saved a person we know not the smallest thing about, in an unknown way, and for unknown reasons? Sure, for you, who have backstory, situational data, and more, this works. For the reader? It's words in a line, meaning unknown.

It’s not a matter of talent or your writing skills. It’s that you’ve not yet dug into the skills of the profession. So, possessing only the report-writing skills of school, you’re transcribing yourself storytelling. That works for you, because you ARE the storyteller. And you perform as you read. But...can the reader know the emotion you would use, the gestures, and the rest of your performance? No. Have your computer read it to you, to better hear what that reader gets.

Here’s the deal: Like every other profession, the skills of writing fiction are acquired in-addition to the nonfiction skills we’re given in school. And they’re necessary because nothing-else-works. The pros use them to sell their books. And if they feel them necessary...

So, don’t let this throw you. Jump over to Amazon and read the excerpt from Debra Dixon’s, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict, to get started acquiring the skills that will bring your story to life. You’ll be very glad you did.

Jay Greenstein

- - - - - - - - - - - -

“Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.”
~ E. L. Doctorow

“Drama is life with the dull bits cut out.”
~ Alfred Hitchcock

“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”
~ Mark Twain

[Rindou]

Thanks for the feedback! It does make complete sense when you put it this way. It was something we had worked on as teens, and now as an adult, I tried to keep a little of the young adult feeling to keep it geared towards that age group. I can see what you mean, a lot of this is vague and even though it’s a fan fic, someone who doesn’t know the back story should be able to understand what’s happening.

I will be adding that book to my reading list. I wonder, do you think I should just rewrite it now instead of trying to keep the childlike feel to it? I had wondered that before…

Because now when I read I can see the clear differences in the writing from then to now. The beginning part you critiqued was not changed at all.

I’ve actually done a few pieces of writing outside of school, as I’ve been to college and have continued writing since then in different programs and contests. This specific work I was wanting to keep partly the same due to it not being just mine.

Quick question… would you be willing if I were to send you some of the work, to review it? I like how honest your feedback is.

[Rindou]

Lauren,

Sure! Shoot me a message on here and I’ll be glad to do my best.

[JayG]

• I wonder, do you think I should just rewrite it now instead of trying to keep the childlike feel to it? I had wondered that before…

Read that book first. Your approach to presentation will literally do an 180° turn, from the fact-based and author-centric approach of nonfiction to the emotion-based and character-centric approach of fiction.

Nonfiction informs, but we entertain the reader by making them live events in real-time.

We do that by calibrating the reader’s perception of the situation to that of the protagonist in all respects. That way, the reader, who learns of everything first, will react to what’s said or done as the protagonist is ABOUT to.

Then, when the protagonist seems to be mirroring the reader’s decisions, the scene turns real, with the protagonist truly becoming the reader’s avatar.

And, let me modify the book suggestion to Jack Bickham's, Scene & Structure. They're both excellent books, but Bickham's, is a bit more complete.

[Rindou]

Wonderful, I’ll read both and then continue to adjust. Thanks so much I really do appreciate this.