Roberta looks at me after she has settled herself down in the seat across from me in the armored car. Well, she calls it a limousine, leaving out the fact that the car is almost completely weaponized. She looks at me critically. She doesn't like me, I know. Even though she's so proud of herself for hiding it. She still wishes that I was Camus. But I'm not. I'm the patched together screw-up that they made the fastest to replace him. I can tell as soon as she gets Camus back, I'm going to be sent right back to lab to be unwound again.

Please, Please Camus, understand. We're not going to be alone much longer. I'm not religious, I don't think any part of me was ever religious, but I'm praying that if there is a god for me, a god who would accept me, that Camus got the message. I don't know what he can do, but I'm hoping he'll at least try. He has a friend. Risa. From what I've collected, she's intelligent. Maybe she will have a plan.

"I thought you said you had him under control Elise" Roberta says sternly. "I do" I say, a little too quickly. She raises a perfectly raised brow. "Then why did you lose control? On live television no less" she continues, pretending that I didn't just say something. "I'm sorry" I say. "But Mcgilligan went off script, and I didn't know what to do". "You let him take control of you" she answered evenly. "Didn't we discuss what would happen if you kept letting him take the reins?" Roberta says, in the fake-sweet kind of voice that makes me want to throw up. He stays scarily silent though. No response. I don't know whether I want to know what that means for me later. "I get erased" I say, trying to not sound as terrified as I feel. "That's right" Roberta says approvingly. The rest of the car ride is silent.

I do deep-breathing exercises, trying to keep calm. I need to get to my bedroom, to be alone. I can feel him growing more and more restless inside me. But sensing my discomfort, Roberta follows me through the myriad of halls to my room. She's being overly cautious, partly because she's been in deep trouble ever since she lost Camus, and partly because she hates me, so anything she can do to make me uncomfortable is her greatest pleasure. Please, please go away. I don't want her anywhere near me. I open the door, and try to shut it quickly behind me, but she catches it with her foot. She looks at me in mock surprise."What, not going to let me in?". I stiffen. She raises her eyebrows. "You can either let me in quietly. Or we can can have an argument, and I will win, and you still let me in". I open my mouth, hoping to find a snappy comeback provided to me. Nothing. I glare at her. But I reopen the door and let her in. She has the keys anyway. A month ago, I locked the door and shoved all the furniture against the door. An hour later, the beoufs had busted down the door, weapons at the ready. I haven't tried since.

She stands there, tapping her foot impatiently. I unzip the back of my dress, exposing my skin to her. Her gaze is critical as she critiques my midsection. The new and old bruises stand out against my varied skin tones. "So I see you still have some work to do" She comments drily. But her eyes glitter, she enjoys herself. Sometimes I don't know who Roberta's rooting for. "See you tomorrow then" She says, shutting the door behind her.

"Liar. You know exactly who she's rooting for" he says, and I can almost hear the mocking in his voice. "Shut up" I think back at him. "What, you're going to make me? How can you, when I'm in your head?" He questions, and I can feel his anger, and mine rising in response. "Get out of my head!" I scream at him. "No one wants you here!". I double over in pain as the breath is knocked out of me. I can't breathe I can't breath oh please no- doors slam as the shadow of a father screams "No one wanted you" at his son and the boy can't help it he's tried and tried but he is never, never good enough. The next memory flashes through, and the boy is strapped to the table, but I'm strapped to it too. I am the boy and they're unwinding me and oh god- I collapse to the ground, vision going dark.

No one else wants her either. I won't say it to her, because it's true. Even Psycho-Nanny hates her, and I'm pretty sure her life depends on Elise doing a good job. Her physical body curls up into a ball on the floor, and her consciousness does the same. I can feel the others-the other kids fighting to break free from her. They're the bruises. I let her blame me because it'd probably be worse if she knew that they can tell that they're not a part of her, and that they want out. The girls dealing with enough already. I almost feels bad for her. But I don't. Not at all. Last time I tried to help someone I cared about, I ended here, unwound and stuck inside Female Frankenstein. Am I over that? Eh, how about NO. She could handle it. She'll be fine. She always had been before. But what if she isn't? Damn it.

I reach out to the very wall of her consciousness. I exhale, then press my hand into the wall surrounding her instantly retracts, and Elise is standing in front of me, her eyes red."What?" she asks tiredly, her lips trembling. I feel something twinge in my chest, and I think she does too because she looks at me nervously. "I'm not sorry" I say. "I was just making sure you were okay. I mean, we're in the same body, so might as well look out for it." Ugh. Even I'm trying not to gag at how bad I sound. "Whatever. Just forget it. Glad you're alive, that's all". I turn to leave. "Wait" she reaches out, grabbing my wrist. I turn back towards her. "What?" I ask annoyed. She looks at me desperately. "Do you mean it?" she asks, a slight tremor in her voice. I look down at her. "Sure" I say. Elise slips her arms around me, and pulls me into a hug. I realize that this is the first time she's been told by someone that they're glad that she's alive. She's shaking, but I think she's happy. "Thank you" she whispers. "Thank you, Roland"