A/N: Wow, lots of new stories on The Mummy archive latley! I've been reading over some of them, and they're really good so far! Keep up the good work mummy writers! And for those who loved young Rick in the previous chapter, don't worry, he's coming back for some action! Hope you enjoy :)


The cold slashes onto me like daggers. My whole body shakes with a start as I slowly bring the life back into me. Eyes darting up, the headmaster is looking down at me, holding a vase full of water shamelessly in her hands. I am about to heave a sigh of relief- though I am now soaking wet- because the scene I blacked out to looks nothing like this.

"Please tell me that she's alright, Lisa." A chilling voice from the corner of the room spoke.

Damn, things can never perfect, can they? I mutter to myself.

And suddenly, two meals a day and daytime persecution doesn't seem so horrible.

To further confirm my grisly suspicions, the all too familiar smell of caked whine and charred remains of smoke began to attack my insides. Though masked by the strong stench of pawn shop perfume, the malodorous smell I've lived with for years was back running through my lungs, much to my body's displeasure.

"Meela's fine, Ms. Nais." Her responding voice reassured, "she is still a tad weak, though. Best to keep her off her feet."

I let out a groan, slowly maneuvering myself up until I was into a sitting position, receiving myself a relieved sigh from the headmaster.

"Are you feeling okay?" She whispered, putting a levying hand on my shoulder with a tender squeeze. I nod, refusing myself to look towards my mother.

A long, unbearable silence enters the room, making me shift uneasily under the sheets that were covered in sweat. The headmaster eyes me sympathetically, and I recall the first time I met her. And I remember that she knows.

Timidly, she begins to speak the sentence that I dreaded. "Meela, your... Mom is here to-"

I am already on my feet; the dizziness in my head wasn't about to stop me now.

"No!" I scream; the hatred overflowing as I take my first looks in years at my wrenched mother. "You're not taking me back to live in your hellhole! I won't! This place has been more of a home then I ever dreamed of!" I turn towards the headmaster, my tone now full of disparity. "You can't make me go back with her! Can't you see what she's done to me?" My voice breaks, and for a moment I'm afraid that I might start crying.

My mother's face is still knotted into a stone hard, expressionless stare as she tries to look concerned for my wellbeing. But she's not stupid, and knows that the headmaster veers towards my opinion rather than hers. Hell, it's going to take a lot more than fake charm to pull this one off, I nearly smirk.

The headmaster looks at me devastated, as if not knowing what exactly to say to me. But she clears her throat, and tries giving off a tiny smile.

"Don't worry, she only wants to talk to you for a minute." She says softly.

I keep my eyes set on the window across from my bed, trying so very hard to focus on my mother when there is a perfectly memorizing dog outside laying shit all over the lawn.

I balance these two topics in my head, while the headmaster and my mother staring at me like they could sense my debate over the shitting dog.

Sighing, I blink, tearing my eyes from the window and back to the headmaster, setting my jaw.

"I do not want her here." I say soberly, clenching my fists tight. She must know how much I hate her. But the headmaster remains still; her mouth closed as she knows nothing she can say will change Mother's decision.

And I am right. My mother gets up, coming towards me with something wonderful on her mind. I can tell because of her twisted smile. She lays a hand on my shoulder; giving me a hard squeeze with the grip of her hand. Whenever my father did this action to me, I remember always feeling his warmth transfuse into me, giving me a feeling of happiness and reassurance. All I feel now is a chilling frost traveling through my body- one so sudden that I have to pull away to prevent the cold from swallowing me entirely.

"It's been so lonely without you home," she says softly. So softly, that if I didn't know better, I'd say that she was actually trying to be nice. I show her my genuine smile.

"Well, this is my home now Mother. They even give you your own bed, and food- twice a day!"

Mother's smile quickly fades, and I know I have won. She removes het hand off my shoulder (which was beginning to numb) and opens the door, apparently wanting me to follow. Quickly glancing at the headmaster with her sorrowful eyes, I get up and head for the door, knowing the only way to get away is to forsake my anger and hear what she has to say.

So, with a steel heart, I enter through the door.


I don't look at her.

I don't let her touch me.

All I do is simply stand in the small hallway, waiting for her to talk. I know she will say something important, because she has already been through more than she needed to have me right here in front of her. This is exactly how I planned my days on my own.

I hear my mother take a deep breath, so I prepare myself for the worst. "I have someone here who wants to see you," she says quietly. But I could still sense the carelessness and hate in the tone of her voice. Not bothering to look at her, I continue to stand, waiting for her to finish. "His name is Masud Ptolemy. He is a blood relation to Ramses himself-"

I smile for a second. This is about to get interesting.

"-and Meela," she waits for my eyes to reach hers before she continues. So I grind my teeth together and subdue my wrath, locking my brown eyes with hers.

"I have decided for you to marry him."


I am completely stunned. But then I begin reasoning with myself. What better way to have untold riches than to force your daughter to marry it?

My eyes fall to the floor, no longer able to look at my mother. I know she is getting angry at me; it was one of my bad habits as a child to remain silent as I try processing the information given to me. But with a mind reeling as much as mine, a response was still choked inside my throat.

"You look at me this instant," my mother growls, grabbing my jaw and whipping me closer to her body. The smell of liquor is so strong now, any precautions I have about obeying are long gone. I wrench myself out of get grip, letting myself fall onto the floor. She comes near me with her hand raised, as if waiting to hit me. The immediate reaction is one of a protective stance, but this is no match for my new obtained power.

"You son of a bitch." I snarl, shooting her with my dark gaze that sticks on her for a moment before I pick myself up. My mother seems fairly astounded by my remark, for I had always been one to cower in fear when beaten at home. But she quickly reverts herself, knowing that it would have to take more to make me marry an obsolete stranger. Before I can react, she grabs a handful of my long, black hair, partially dragging, partially throwing me towards the front door.

Screaming, I twist and thrash about like a fish ripped out of the water, my mind begging to get away. I am no longer weak as I was in my youth; though skinny, my muscles are strong. After many failed attempts, I finally yank myself out of my mother's tight grip. But instead of running back to the room I awoke in, my hand stiffens, and brings itself back, before coming down hard as a slap on my own mother's face. She lets out a small noise indicating pain, so I know I must've hit her hard. Stepping backward, her hand covering her face reveals a huge red mark where I'd struck her. My mother still continues to wail until the door behind us creaks open. The headmaster is standing there, arms crossed. She gives us each a long and hard state before holding out to me a long and curved finger, apparently ignoring my mother for the time being. I take a few steps closer to her, slowly following get into the room. She's glaring at me.

But damn, it felt good.


A/N: Hopefully I'll be able to update in a week or two, but who knows? Spring Break is coming (finally) and have tons of plans this year. And for those who care, one review for me will now equal TWO reviews on two of your stories (one on each). Now that's a fine proposition, don't you think? More to come!