CHAPTER ONE = misconceptions

"I don't think you should be hanging around with E."

"And why is that?" Came the quiet, monotone emotionless voice in response.

"Because you're using her," He cocked his head to one side, those auburn eyes gazing into his fellows black ones. "She thinks you love her…but I know why you're interested in her."

"You are a fool B, you have become obsessed, and obsession can be ones greatest weakness."

"You may not care! But I am human enough to know that I care!"

I sat in the play room along with the other children, though I was in no mood to play. I didn't feel good, but I refused to be ill, I refused. There where so many other things that I needed to do. I needed to finish a science project, figure out how to do improper fractions, and so many other homework assignments which would go untouched if I where to fall ill. I made a slight groan as my stomach turned. I was fine, nothing was wrong; this was just due to a book I'd seen with a picture of muscle tissue in the human body. That was all, it had simply sickened me.

"Is something wrong?" I glanced up to see one of the helping hands crouching down near me. "You look a little pale hun." I made a groaning sound before jumping to my feet.

"I…I have to go." I said quickly running out of the room. I quickly ran down the hall, trying desperately to keep my breakfast from making a surprise visit to the world. As I ran down the hall I bumped passed B who turned with a slight 'hey' as I ran passed him. I slammed open the bathroom door and ran into one of the stalls flinging myself over the porcelain god as to give my offering…this mornings breakfast. The rush of half digested eggs, bacon, toast and an apple came up and out of my mouth in a disgusting spew as it splashed into the toilet. The taste was disgusting and burned my throat due to the stomach acids that came up with the food, the smell and chunks caused me to spew up more and more of my stomachs remains, tears starting to slide down my cheeks as sweat formed upon my brow. I was in agony, I continued to gag, the dry heaves racking my body in a fit of trembles, little pained moans and groans escaping me. I let out a pathetically lazy squeak as I felt a hand rub along my back before another looped about my middle and a body was pressed against me, the hand on my stomach gently rubbing, the one on my back slowly sliding up to my hair and brushing it away from my face.

"It seems E's breakfast is not agreeing with her tummy." I let out a little whimper.

"B?" He leaned his head against mine and nodded. I'd never hated B, and yet, I had never liked him before either, but at that moment, the moment he came to my rescue, rescuing me from that damn porcelain god, I knew he was an ok guy.

B spent the rest of the day with me, we stayed in my room, seeing as how my room mate was other wise occupied, and B didn't want to leave me alone in fear I might need to, once again give offering to the porcelain god. While I lounged on the bed, bottle of lemon lime soda and salty crackers on my bed side table, B would crouch on the floor or sit on the bed and read to me. And if I grew bored with the story we'd simply talk. I learned that B had a thing with blood, though beyond that I learned nothing else on that topic. I wasn't sure if he liked blood or if he where afraid of it, the second was most likely. A lot of people where afraid of blood. I knew it made me squeamish.

"B, will you read to me again, please?" He nodded and slid off the bed, crossed to the small book shelf and pulled down a book, before rejoining me on the bed. He cleared his throat before he began.

"Once upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing, and the frame of the window was made of black ebony. And whilst she was sewing and looking out of the window at the snow, she pricked her finger with the needle, and three drops of blood feel upon the snow. And the red looked pretty upon the white snow, and she thought to herself, would that I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood and as black as the wood of the window frame. Soon after that, she had a little daughter, who was as white as snow, and as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony, and she was therefore called little Snow White. And when the child was born, the queen died." B paused a moment and glanced up at me, I smiled and he turned his gaze back to the book. I glanced off into space listening while he read. He was a wonderful reader; of course, he wasn't a genius for nothing. "After a year had passed the king took to himself another wife. She was a beautiful woman, but proud and haughty, and she could not bear that anyone else should surpass her in her beauty. She had a wonderful antique mirror and when she stood naked in front of it and looked at her self she said, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who art the fairest of them all?" And the mirror would answer, "Thou are my queen, you are the fairest of them all." Then she would be pleased, for she knew the mirror spoke the truth." B continued to read to me that night, he continued from where he'd left off when Rodger had insisted he must go and eat dinner. He quickly returned though to continue the story. I turned at the sound of a knock upon my door and as it creaked open B poked his head in. I smiled.

"B, you came back." He nodded.

"I said I would be back after dinner." He crossed to the bed and sat upon it, pulling the book over. "But Snow White was growing up, and she grew more and more beautiful with each passing day, and by the time she was seven-years-old she was more beautiful then the queen herself. And one day, when the Queen went to her room, stripped herself of all her cloths, turned to the mirror and asked who was the fairest of them all, the mirror replied.

"Thou art fairer than all who are here, lady Queen. But more beauty doth I see, for Snow White is far fairer then thee."

B continued to come and care for me, day after day, and he even brought me my work from all the classes I missed and read me the questions, and once I answered he would write them down. I was glad that we had made a connection, after all, I didn't like A and knew B needed a better friend.

"B, I want…to tell you something." He looked up at me over the Algebra paper.

"What is it E?" He questioned, in his voice I'd come to love so much. It was so smooth, and low, and perfect for reading stories. If B were ever to find a wife and have children one day, those children would be very lucky to have a father with such a voice.

"I want to tell you a secret, but you have to promise not to tell any one else." He nodded, setting the math paper aside and gazing at me intently. "I want to tell you my real name." His eyes widened slightly. Every child that ever came to Whammy's house had a shot, even if very slight, at following L, the oldest one day. There where only four children, L, A, B, and me, but none of us ever told our real name. "My real name is…Ellena." He let a seemingly happy breath pass his lips as he leaned closer, hand out stretched as he brushed some hair from my face. I didn't find it creepy that he loved to rub my cheek or brush my hair aside, it was who he was, after all, all of us here where a little different.

"It suits you so well. Ellena…its like honey flowing from my lips…I will never tell anyone." 'I knew your name from the beginning, from the first moment I'd set my eyes upon you…but, for you to have spoken this sacred name to me…and me only…is by far…the greatest gift I could ever receive.'

Well there is the first chapter. :D Hope you like it.