Creak. "Hello, child. Have you had dinner yet?" From her hiding place behind the chair, Sam's jaw dropped wide open.

Their hair was smoother, not rough and tousled like it had been meeting her. Leather jacket and jeans were now skinny jeans and a white lab coat. 'Why do they look so different?'' Even their speech wasn't the same, although it was the same voice.

"H.S.!" Asil ran up to them, just like they planned, and asked, "Are you going to take me home now?"

"Did you eat your dinner?"

"Yeah!" Asil wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing chocolate all over. "And dessert, too!"

H.S. gave a gentle smile. "That's nice, but don't overdo it on the ice-cream, okay? Can't have your mama and papa scolding me for getting you all hyper."

"They won't mind."

H.S. raised an eyebrow playfully. "Really, now?"

Sam felt a tinge of envy. Maybe, if they had been playing doctor when she met them, she wouldn't have all these problems. But at least she knew the truth. Sam wondered how many others they revealed themselves to.

"Why are there two armchairs in here?" they questioned. In answer, Asil held up her teddy bear. "I was talking to Celeste. She's a bit shy, though, so she can't talk."

"Hm." with a wave of their hand, 'Celeste' was dressed in miniature clothing. "Maybe talking doesn't suit them, but they sure are good listeners, aren't they?"

Asil nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I was telling her all about a lot of things."

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh. Like, how I wish I could explore. But I can never find the door you come in through. Me and S...eleste looked all over!"

H.S. narrowed their eyes. "You... have met with Sam. Darling, she's not a good influence. Did she tell you how she got out?"

Asil bit her lower lip nervously, "W-who's Sam? I don't know a Miss Sam!"

Sam was sweating behind the armchair. She had a backup plan, in case Asil messed up. Asil just needed to cue her.

"Sam is a neutral name that could be assigned to any gender. To know that Sam is a 'Miss', not a 'Mr.', 'Mrs.' or 'Ms.', you would've had to meet her." That clever bastard! In her anger, she almost missed the signal.

Vaulting over the couch, the conjured red cape behind her fluttered dramatically. 'Intimidation tactics might actually be useful for this.'

"Hiya, H.S. Care to give us some answers?" Sam held her fists up, ready for a tussle.

"And if I do not?"

Sam punched the air in their direction, desperately hoping for her plan to work. H.S. stumbled back, a satisfactory scratch on their face. "Then I'll give you more scars to match the one on your eye."

To her annoyance, H.S. just chuckled. "I see that you have figured out how to adapt the void's powers to your advantage. Well, no matter." They side-stepped the next air punch. With a snap of their fingers, their weird eye lit up. A doorway appeared. "Go forth and explore. I shall not stop you."

Grabbing Asil, Sam sprinted for the door. Anywhere but here, was a better chance of escaping. Besides, if they changed their mind…

She knocked H.S. out while passing by and entered the darkness.

The next room was far from what either of them expected. Sunshine filtered in through the stained glass, creating beautiful coloured patches on the floor. And the books. Sixteen long shelves of books, more than twice as many as the biggest library she'd been to, adorned the walls.

"Woah." both of them said simultaneously.

This made Asil giggled, "Jinx."

Good to know that the little genius actor was still a kid at heart.

Setting her passenger down, Sam examined the nearest book. "Sam A. Rowanheart. One slash twenty-eight slash- something illegible -C.E., Eighth Year of Life." Why did it have her name on it? Carefully removing the writing from its dusty frame, she flipped to a random page. "Let's see… "

She grabbed the toy and made big, Bambi eyes at her father. "Please, Daddy?"

"Mommy's going to be upset…"

"But you promised, Daddy! You said, ''I will get you that toy if you stop bothering me, and go do your homework.''"

His eyes creased in a smile. "Alright, alright. You know, I spoil you too much."

A wet splotch appeared on the handwritten page, smearing the ink. Sam remembered the good times she had with her father, before he passed. Gently caressing the book, she looked down. Asil was tugging on the hem of her shirt. "Miss Sam?"

Composing herself, she let out a choked "Yeah?"

"Why are you crying?"

Sam wiped away the unbidden tears. "I'm not crying, sweetie." Seeing the sceptical look on the other's face, "C'mon, let's see if there's another room." But when they turned around…

The doorway wasn't there.

"It closed right after we stepped through," Asil told her. 'Oh no.'

"That's okay, we'll just find- or wish for- another door. Why don't we split up?"

The little girl nodded, eyes full of determination. "Yes ma'am," and gave a salute before running off.

"Don't wander too far!" Sam shouted after her, before realising how motherly she was being. "Ha ha..."

She flipped through more pages, than books, finding events, described in vivid detail, of her life when she was eight. Going onto the next aisle, it was words upon words of transcribed memories from when she was nine. Every single day, every little secret, every lie and hope and thought. Everything was recorded in these pages. 'How long this must've taken to write… months, years, even… a lifetime.' With a start, the idea that H.S., or someone else, was probably the writer, surfaced. She shook it off, knowing that they couldn't have stalked her since the very beginning. Or, known her dreams. She would have to investigate this later.

Moving on to the last shelf of books, Sam noticed that these looked newer. Again, everything was titled with a date and her name, and the 'year of life'.

"Sixteenth Year of Life..." That's it! It was probably recorded somewhere how she got here!

Running down the hallway created by the bookshelf and wall, Sam stopped at the end.

"Where is it where is it where is it- ah ha!"

She triumphantly raised her prize up in the air - 'Sam A. Rowanheart. 7/06/o͡#͍̤i̶͇͚̱n͚%t͏̘̥ C.E., Sixteenth Year of Life'

"Why are all the years unreadable?" she gave a sigh of disappointment. "Well, at least I know from my own knowledge."

Realizing that she hadn't checked on Asil for a while, Sam called out, "ASIIIIL! ASIL?"

"Yes, Miss Sam?" came the faint reply.

"JUST CHECKING TO MAKE SURE YOU'RE SAFE!" and then she went back to the book. "Seven o' clock. It looks like I was excited. I was… going to take the test drive for driving school! Oh yeah, I'm probably missing that right now." How could she have forgotten? Thumbing through breakfast and the bus ride, until she was driving. "The clipboard he held… I made a left… WHAT!" She almost dropped the book in surprise.

'Suddenly, a white SUV van (license plate being Minnesota, FAA-4563, 10,000 lakes) came around the corner, having ran a red light. Impact was unavoidable, even as the instructor reached for the emergency brake. The car was hit on the port side, then from the back as they interrupted the flow of traffic. Airbags inflated in less than a second, but not fast enough to catch the debris. Sam's head slammed into the stick, coffee scalding her face. The instructor, by a sheer miracle, was still alive. But it seems that Sam is lurching into The Middle. Ah, that is quite sad. It will be a rough journey for her.

It seems that, after only sixteen short human years, my job is coming to an end. What form will I greet her in, I wonder? Perhaps… drawing number 3,465 will do. Bid life farewell, Sam, as you enter my realm. And, as I see a future where, you may be reading this, you may want to look behind you.'

Slowly, the said person turned around to come face to face with the 'author' this biography.

"Hello, Sam."

By instinct, she swiped at them. They caught her hand with ease. "How rude."

If she couldn't save herself, at least she had to warn her companion. "ASIL! THEY'RE HERE! RUN-!" in one fluid movement, H.S. had pinned her arms down and covered her mouth.

"Please, calm down for a second. I will not harm 'Asil', as we call her."

'We?'

"As long as you cooperate."

Sam seethed in anger. "You, are a very bad word from a very bad place that I will not say in case she is watching us."

"Fair enough," they opened up another portal-door, "hop in."