Sorry for being gone for so long, things are crazy lately... Ah well, enjoy! And pleae review, reviews are what encourages me to write more.

Myra's head rested heavily in the cup of her palm. Her other hand was mechanically scribbling the words that were coming into her ears. She glanced from her notes back up to her teacher, and was nothing but the dubious student. The reason for this sudden change? She wasn't thinking at all. Myra had become completely numb, going from class to class, sitting down, taking notes, getting back up again, and doing it all over again. When the final bell rang, she went to her locker, opened it, and stopped. Her brain, after being locked up for so long, went into overdrive with thought.

"Why didn't Erik sleep well? Why didn't he want to talk about it? Why did he sneak up on me this morning rather than just going to homeroom? Why was he even out in the halls so late? Why did he snap? What was that fierceness behind his eyes? Why doesn't he trust me with something so minor as a bad's night sleep? Why was he so interested in my dream? And what is behind that mask?" Her unneeded books fell with a loud clang at the bottom of her locker. She attempted to answer each question in turn. "He might have slept badly because of a nightmare, which would also explain his interest in my dream . . . Science textbook . . . He might not have wanted to talk about the nightmare because it involved either his past, his mother, or myself . . . English book . . . He snuck up on me because he wanted to know my locker number, maybe he's planning a surprise sometime later . . . Don't need history . . . ." Myra zipped up her backpack and flung it over one shoulder. "He waited for me, that's why he was in the halls. Either that or he had a reason not to go to homeroom. Is the teacher mean to him? Do the other students pick on him? Did the bullies figure out it was him that set the trap and they are in his homeroom? If so, did they catch up to him later? Okay, on to different question: the snapping and fierceness. He snapped because I pushed him over the edge. The fierceness . . ." She couldn't explain that one, other than that it was there. She walked with her usual quick gait toward the front doors of the school. "He doesn't trust me because he hasn't trusted anyone before, and he's still getting used to the idea. Then again, he might have trusted someone and they betrayed him. If they did, why did they do it? Hold on, you're getting ahead of yourself again." She stopped herself, pushing open the door in front of her and stepping into the cool air outside. "Finally, what is behind that mask? I don't know. I want to know. I really want to know. I have to know. I must know." Such was the progression of her thoughts as she briskly walked up to Erik by the wall.

"Hello." Her new determination overrode her previous fear and embarrassment.

Erik glanced her way, then returned his gaze to the ground. "Uh, hello." He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

Myra sensed his distance and asked, as casually as possible, "You've been acting weird all day, what's up?"

"Oh," he said, looking anywhere but her way, "nothing." Erik glanced around at the other students, scanned the cars, his eyes darting from one object to another very obviously avoiding Myra's searching gaze.

"Okay, listen," Myra prepared to reason with her strange friend, "my mom's going to be here any minute. Just tell me what's going on."

"Good." he said bitterly, finally glaring at her. "Let her come and take you back to your perfect life. Why won't you just leave me alone!" He turned his gaze back to the ground, as though trying to bore a hole in it with his stare.

She refused to be put off this way. "Something's bugging you, just tell me."

"Saying something doesn't change it." he protested, avoiding her eyes. She walked closer and bobbed her head this way and that, trying to catch his gaze. Erik evaded her mercilessly.

Myra sighed in frustration. "Come on, you're being ridiculous."

"I'm not the one," he retorted, "running around trying to catch the eyes of someone who doesn't want to talk to them." She rolled her eyes.

"This would be a lot simpler if you'd just tell me what's wrong."

His glare at the ground intensified. "There's nothing wrong."

"Now you," Myra said pointedly, "are a terrible liar. If you won't tell me what's wrong, will you let me see you without your mask on?"

Now he looked at her, but his eyes were swimming with too many emotions to count. She was expectant, thinking to get something out of him. Slowly, one emotion presented itself: rage.

"You insolent little hussy!" he growled. "You spend a week with a person and expect them to share their deepest darkest secrets? And why, to satisfy your childish curiosity? Is that all I am to you, some freakish magic show and you won't stop until you know how every trick was done?"

Myra's breath came in shallow gasps and she leaned with one hand on the low wall. "Why can't you trust me?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. This entire encounter was not what she had expected when she stepped outside.

"Trust you?" He put his face close to hers, and she kept her eyes down, barely daring to breath. "I hardly know you." His voice was a low ominous whisper. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me."

She felt like a dog that had just been dominated by its owner. Obediently, she waited for the command that would release her from her chastised state.

"There's your mother." Erik said. "Go on, you don't want to be seen with me." Myra turned from him, not looking back, and ran to her mother's car.

"So," said Meliora, the moment the door shut, "how was your day?"

Myra answered, "Fine."

Are you aware of the story of the little boy who put his finger in the dyke? A small child in Holland found a leak in the dyke by his town and put his finger in it to stop the hole. He ended up being a town hero, standing all through the cold night to protect them from all the water that could have come and swallowed up their tiny little town. That little boy had to endure a great deal before he took his finger out of the hole. Luckily, there were people there ready to fill the hole when the finger was removed. If the people hadn't found the boy, he would never have become famous because he along with the entire town would be at the bottom of a lake. The story was about courage, or perhaps foolishness. The boy could easily have gone off and found the mason, who was snoring away contentedly in his house only two blocks away. However, he chose to stand there with his finger in a hole and wait, hoping someone would stumble across him. Myra was in the position of the little boy, at this time, with her little finger holding back the roaring tide of emotions that threatened to swallow up her bustling town of a mind. Her mother didn't press her about her day, and she went up to her room, book-bag in tow, and her little finger still in the dyke. Half-way through her math assignment, however, she had to pull that finger out. She had already endured enough hardship that it was time, but, unlike that lucky little boy, there was no one there to wall up the hole, and she hadn't gone for the mason. Myra's head dropped limply on the desk in front of her and her arms came up around her head. She felt helpless, hopeless, useless, overwhelmed, and disbelief. All these emotions flooded her mind, threatening to destroy it.

"I can't have lost him that easily," she thought, "can I?" His words rung in her ears, she could still hear the hate in them. . . Did he really hate her? "I can't have messed up that badly, right?" she tried to reassure herself. "I'll get him back, he has to come back. He has nowhere else to go." But she corrected herself. "He was alone before, he can be alone again . . . ." Had she done so little for him? Myra trembled and closed her eyes. "I won't let that happen . . . I can't . . . ."

She turned away from her unfinished work, slipped on a nightgown and slid under the covers. Her emotions were ruling her, making the tears slide down her face, making her hold on to Erik as though she were the one with no one else to turn to. "I'll talk to him tomorrow." she decided. "I'll convince him that I won't leave him alone, I'll make him trust me." She fell heavily into a dreamless sleep that took the place of all feeling.