Ugh, haven't updated this story in what feels like forever. I'm sorry. Not to mention the fact that the last chapter SUCKED. I hope that this one's better.

The hardest part was only beginning.

Holding the clips on my backpack to keep from jingling, I crept down the hall. Every step I took, the floorboards groaned and sighed under the weight of my sneakers, even when I was on the carpet. My muscles tensed every move I made. I hoped with all my heart no one heard me. I wished that they would all stay asleep and let me leave peacefully.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I reached the grand staircase. Thunder rolled outside. I wasn't going to walk in the rain, especially not at one in the morning or whenever it was. Denton wasn't exactly the nicest place in the world at night. Thinking back to when I first arrived, I remembered that the handyman had taken my bike. What's his name? Whiplash? Rip-rap? Whatever, I'm no good with names.

I looked to the place where I had seen him take my wheels. Clinging to the baubles on my bag as though they were a sacred object, I snuck over to the room. It was a foyer of some sort, with the same amount of curiosities stacked on the walls and shelves as the main entrance. I spotted my bike.

It was hanging from the ceiling.

I groaned inwardly. This was going to be harder than I thought. Who hangs bikes from ceilings anyway? I took my backpack off as quietly as possible and set it by the threshold. Looking around, I spotted a rocking chair and a little glass topped side table next to it. This just spelled disaster, but I was desperate.

Stepping onto the chair, I grabbed the headboard as the rocker swayed back and forth; I almost fell off it. My knees knocked against each other and my heart was going at ninety miles an hour as I rested my heel on the glass top. Launching myself onto the tiny side table, I reached for the handlebars of my bike. That's when I heard it.

Ziiiiiippp.

I shuddered. That was my backpack. Something tells me that they don't keep pets here, so it wasn't a dog. Or a monkey. Or any animal, for that. It was obviously someone, and that someone had been thinking I was my mother all night. I turned my head, my entire body tense. I saw a figure poking through my bag. I knew it.

Rocky.

This was starting to get annoying. Why was he following me? It really bugged me.

"Rocky!" I hissed, as quiet as possible. "Get out of here!"

He looked up at me. He looked confused. Then he looked hurt. Uh oh.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I just… Sorry."

He came over to me, looked at my bike, then at me. He reached up and took the bike off the ceiling like he was picking a grape. I'm so glad I had almost killed myself on the rocking chair just so he could come and do that. Now I had to do it again.

Rocky then turned to me and picked me up, placing me on the bike as though I was Barbie doll.

Looks like I don't have to do it again.

"Uh… Thanks." I whispered. I got off of my bike and started to wheel it away. Suddenly, he caught me by the collar of my shirt.

"You… Not Janet."

I got nervous. "N-no. I n-not Janet. N-no." I shook and hoped with all my heart he wasn't going to tear me apart.

He looked me over again. "Not Janet."

"No, Not Janet, Kyara."

"Kee-ahr-uh…" He scanned me once more and settled on a title. "Mini Janet," He announced triumphantly, like he had just won something. My hand hit my face in desperation. What, did he only have half a brain?

"Well, thank you, very much for getting my bike down. But I must be going, toodles." I waved lightly and started to wheel my bike back to the main hall. I was caught by the collar of my shirt again and pulled back to my previous position.

He showed no signs of reasoning as to why he did this, so I just tried again. He caught me and dragged me back about six different times before I started to get ticked off.

"What do you want?" I hissed quietly, still careful not to wake anyone else. I had to get rid of him somehow or I'd never leave. Ever.

Suddenly, I remembered something I had. I reached into my pocket and took out the handful of Swedish Fish I saved from Columbia's appetite. The dye was running slightly because of the dampness in my pants but they were still edible. I held them in my fist out to Rocky.

He just looked at them. I sighed, took his hand and put them in it. He looked at them some more and picked one up. I made an eating motion with my hand, instructing him to put it in his mouth and eat it. Slowly, he did so. Soon he was gobbling down the entire handful of sweet, red candies and I was wheeling my bike away.

I got to the front hall and took one last look at the mansion. Sure, my time here wasn't the most welcoming, comforting, or hospitable, but it was something I'd remember. And no one hurt me. Maybe it wasn't all that bad after all. Then I remembered my parents, my brothers. I had to go home. Throwing my weight against the door, I went out into the new-fallen snow, freezing because of my damp clothes.

Wait. Snow? It's the middle of August! In Denton!

Whatever, I thought. I could deal with snow, the roads are already plowed. I quickly hopped on my bike and sped down the road from the place which I had come. After a little bit, it looked as though I wasn't getting any ground. This was a mistake.

I stopped and looked around. There was no one awake at this hour. Not a living thing was moving. Nothing was, for that. Except a lone, moving shadow in the distance. My muscles tensed the same way they had when I almost fell off the rocking chair. I was shaking. The figure was running toward me. By the way it ran I could tell it was a girl. I heard it calling me.

"Kyara! Kyara! Kyara!" As it got closer, something sparkled on it. Actually, a lot of things sparkled on it. Whoever it was, she was wearing sequins or sparkles of some sort. And a top hat. "Kyara!"

It was Columbia. What was she doing outside? I thought she was back at the mansion. This didn't make any sense!