INCREDIBLY sorry about the delay, but mom's taking my required 45-minute computer class in school as internet time, leaving me with a grand hour and fifteen minutes to work. Minus 30-40 minute computer homework time, and a whopping half hour is left to read stories, find out what stories were updated, send e-mails to friends, check mail, read mail, check reviews, and write. I'm not having the easiest time with it, ESPECIALLY because, due to memorization tests in my worst subjects, I'm taking retakes on naming the states and their capitals. And we have another test this week, two next! I'm going to die with homework. . .

Clara: Want me to kill them for you?

No, Mr. Baker's science class is explaining those weird weather symbols and we're tracking hurricane Fabian, which is fun.

Clara: What about Social studies?

(shudders) Mom and Miss. Forget-her name-and its-week-three-of-school are friends, plus her classes are interesting when they don't involve maps.

Clara: Math?

Miss. Rediker is nice, and gives easy homework I can finish in class before leaving school, even if it is a bit boring having stuff I understand immediately explained ten times. ESPECIALLY the review!

Clara: Can't I at least take that L.A. Or Spanish teacher off your hands?

NO! Miss. Um. . . Miss I forget her name outside of school isn't very nice, but we're doing poetry this year, and I like writing it. And Senora Wotowiecs homework has been six sentences so far. Plus, she's fun. No one's allowed to use English, and having us act out review and new vocab is fun. ESPECIALLY 'Greta'. Means Scream. She convinced the whole class to scream out the names of objects.

Clara: (pouts) Mr. Libby?

I'm out of computer class in less than a month.

Clara: Fine. Can I do the thanks?

Sure.

Clara: This Chapter is dedicated to Amanda, Eika's best friend who gave her advice for this chapters situation, taught her how to play card games, is going to drag her to the junior prom this year, showed her the video board- game Nightmare, and she cannot imagine living without.

On with the fic!

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I wait, tensed, arms loose at my sides, fists clenched, bare toes curled, tail spring like behind me, for them to make their move to prepare myself for the struggle, killing soon to come.

The king walks forward, undoing the lock as my muscles tense, my teeth grit, eyes constantly moving, taking in surroundings, head steady on my shoulders, ready at any moment to fight, to kill, to try, to not scream loudly and cry as I wait for their move, the offensive instant in which I shall protect myself from death and harm; inflicting damage the only way to survive.

Movement!

My eyes are instantly locked on the door as it swings open speedily, releasing me momentarily, but it's better to be in captivity and away from harm than released into inescapable jaws of the enemy, with no exits, no hope, and definitely no chance of survival.

He exchanges a look with the others, obviously a wicked, sinister smile, before glancing again at me. "Come on out." He tells me, smiling conversationally, a way to lull me into certain death.

I remain where I am, ready to kill in an instant, as he backs up a few steps and seats his disgraceful bottom into a. . . What the HECK is that?!

Whatever it is, the others sit their demented assess in them, leaving one unoccupied. DEFINITELY that one is rigged up to electric killing devices, and I'll die if I do the same. "Won't you please come out? It should be much more comfortable sitting than in that position." Eat my guano, you demented monkey. I'm not moving into a position to be killed any time soon.

"Are you scared to come out or don't know what a chair is?" I don't move an inch, my eyes coolly surveying each of them in turn. So that thing is called a chair. Shifting of the hands by Beatrix and Sir Steiner, into a position that assets a fast jump out of that position. "If you don't come out," And he SMILES slightly, the bastard, "We'll have no choice but to bring you out." Or the knight and general will try to, anyway.

As suspected, they both jump up as if on signal, rushing forward on a wordless command. They enter my cage one at a time, easing sideways.

Backing up, using my fear to my advantage in appearance, I watch closely, my eyes centered, concentrated solely on their movements, eyes catching a glimpse of those behind them, in the seats, fairly reeking of confidence. Backing up still more, my tail, in position, waits, tensed and loose at the same time.

Just one more step. Just one more step. . .

NOW!

I launch myself at them, feet aerial and spread, catching them both in the stomachs, knocking the wind out of them. They fly to the exit again, significantly widening it, flying through the support items backs, hitting the wall and staying there, dazed and stunned. Sir Steiner, with armor so rusty it provided only half the usual protection, starts to vomit on the floor next to him; I knocked more than the wind out of him. Beatrix, whose stomach armor is in good condition, is simply dazed.

Queen Garnet, rushing to his side first, casts a fast curaga on him and Beatrix, stopping the barfing and giving Beatrix back her breath. Casting a cura, inspecting the damage done to his back, winces at the sight of wood imbedded in his armor. Hearing him groan, she cures him yet again, before helping him to his feet. Princess Eiko is with Beatrix, removing wood from her bottom and healing her, before helping her to her mangled chair. On my left, Sir Steiner is given the same response.

I remain where I am, having landed lightly on my feet, every muscle loose, bound and ready, every muscle screaming to attack and kill them, the monsters that destroyed my sister's will, that will kill me on the first given occasion. Law of life: Kill or be killed. . .

The king and queen rush in together through the widened door, grabbing me before I can think to react. A split, a medium hit in the arms, and they involuntarily drop me, and I roll away as they ineffectively attempt to grab me. On my back, arms crossed, King is closer, he turns to face me, and faces a spring kick.

For those of you without tails or common knowledge, a spring kick is when you use your tail like a spring, propelling you into the air, legs wrapped together to receive double force. Doesn't propel you very high, and is much stronger than any other type. I connect with him, pushing up and off with my legs to increase damage, and realize where I hit him.

I got him right where the sun don't shine, a male weak point. Discovered it at the age of four, practicing spring kicks on a target and missed. Hit Uncle in a bad place.

The king gasps, eyes rolling up into his head.

Uncle did that.

The king bends over, clutching himself and whimpering.

Uncle did that, too.

The king collapses on his side, curled up in a ball, groaning loudly.

Uncle didn't do that.

I back up as the queen rushes over and picks him up, whispering a few spells on the way. A few drops of blood are on the ground.

Uncle didn't do that, either.

In his still intact chair, Princess Eiko and Queen Garnet are on either side, steadying and healing him. Item after item is used, restoring their M.P. as they heal him. At last he can open his eyes, and is no longer groaning and whimpering, though obviously not entirely recovered.

Queen Garnet and Vivi come in, hands ready. I attempt to block as they grab me, the kick won't work on a black mage, and Garnet will heal any damage done to herself. As I fight desperately, I eventually am just reduced to dodging their blows, a twist here and there blocking, kicking punching, trying to escape the horror of the possibility's I see no way out of. We're around the back now, and I manage to finally jump up. Backing hurriedly around a corner, I prepare to hurt, maybe kill, them as they come around the corner. I lunge forward-

And am grabbed, stopped, hands rendered useless by the person who holds them hostage effortlessly, another person having grabbed my legs. I struggle, try to flee, as I am picked up, carried, and looking into the faces of those who rendered me helpless.

Freya Crescent and Princess Eiko.

They carry me to the empty chair, and put me in it properly, still holding my limbs against struggles. A chain is produced; my legs are securely tied to the legs of the chair and my arms tied securely to my knees, I glare at Queen Garnet, fighting my bonds with every ounce of my strength. Miraculously, they don't break, and as I'm pushed back against the chair I see, from the area Freya's body doesn't cover, King Zidane opening the trapdoor, lowering the cage down to be replaced. He locks it again immediately afterwards, and goes back to his chair. Seat. Must remember to use their ideas in thought.

Tied securely to the chair scares me even worse, but I'm not shaking now, I'm determined, I'll escape somehow, get out of this, get to Clara. They go back to where they're sitting, and between inwardly shaking and calling them names and outwardly having eyes dart in every direction in wild hope of escape, struggling against my bonds and not feeling any results, My mouth is dry, I can't escape, who knows what they'll do to me, and I'm inwardly screaming and trying to get away, but I can't I'm stuck, I'm trapped, there's no exit, no escape, no hope.

Vaguely I realize they're saying something, but I don't care anymore, My head follows my eyes, twisting as I try to plan, try to hope, to see a way out, a chance. I'm looking everywhere, but there's nothing, no chance, no hope, no escape.

"Are you listening?" I hear someone ask out of the corner of my mind, the part not absorbed by fear, and I yank my scared eyes from the crack less walls, trying to focus on what they're saying, but I look at them and just feel an increase of fear, so I stare at my immobile lap, but that doesn't help, it's covered in chains, holding me in place, unable for fight or flight, and it grows still, I'm not going to start shaking. Period. That's a weakness I'm done with.

I won't shake from fear. I won't shake from fear. I can't get away! I won't shake from fear. This is hopeless, I'm gonna die. I won't shake from fear. I won't shake from fear even as they pepper me with questions, barricade my life, torture me- I'm torturing myself now! I won't shake from fear. The worst is yet to come, if it can get any worse. I won't shake from fear.

A voice, the kings, cuts through my thoughts from ignoring their voices: "What's wrong?"

I don't look up from my tied lap, acutely aware of the silence, as every little sound becomes magnified, every movement noticeable.

Dang. I AM shaking. I hear someone sigh softly, and as my shakes, still small luckily, increase slightly I refuse to look anywhere but my lap, with chains snaking across it, because at least I don't want to kill me.

A creak, a few footsteps. As I tense my shakes increase spasmodically, knowing I can't run, can't fight, can't even hide as my enemies approach, waiting for the kill.

A hand comes into sight, coming up and under my chin. I flinch at the touch, waiting for the slap as I'm held entirely still, the beating, the torture sure to come. My head is lifted, and I'm forced to stare at the person holding me hostage: Queen Garnet. I try to shift my chin away, but can't, her firm grip on it preventing movement for my entire head. Her spare hand lifts up, and I tense still more, shakes increasing, awaiting the blow, the pain the nightmare while I'm awake.

Instead, her hand comes and gently brushes away some hair in my face. I flinch, trying vainly to get away, to run, to attack, and yet I can't, just shake in fear and humiliation and deadly suspense for when they'll get it over with.

The queen directs my face, until I'm looking her in the eye. I immediately avert them: people can see fear if looked in the eye. I try to run, to escape from this violation, this unexpected movement that makes me want to cry. Why can't they just kill me, end my pain and hopelessness already?

The queen moves her head, again so that she's looking me directly in the eyes, dead center. Impossible to look away from that, one side of pupil is always there. Staring involuntarily, I try to resist, try to move, to wrench out of her grasp to the right or left, downward. Wait- I yank my head up, out of her grasp, and twist my neck to stare behind me-

At the king.

Nearly giving a yelp from surprise, I twist to stare at my other side- and at Vivi. Other side, to find Beatrix has moved into place, kneeling to be on eye level. Above me is the dragon knight.

I shake so hard the chains rattle gently. I'm gonna die, there's no hope, no escape, no chance of running free from this place. I can't close my eyes, they could do more unseen things then-

A hand under my chin, this time accompanied by someone else's hand on top of it. I yank my head in all directions, fighting wildly, as my face is turned again towards the deadly queens. Looking into her eyes directly, eyes twisting in all directions to try and find an escape, to do as my neck can no longer, I want to scream, but if I do they'll want me to talk even more, and I can't talk, I talk something might slip, and I'll be hurt even more before being killed. I want to cry, but that'd have me slapped, and it's a sign of weakness, so I can't, I'm scared, I want to and am trying to run, but my legs are stuck, caught in this position until the end of time.

"Stop struggling. We won't hurt you." Commands the lying queen, sweat breaking out on my face at the fact that she's addressing me, and me alone, that they'll kill me and are pretending pity. I want to go home, nut I can't, I'm stuck here until they who want me dead choose to release me. I manage to wrench my chin away from her hand, to stare again at my lap, it comes again to grab me-

I lunge as much as I can with neck alone, teeth clicking together where her hand was a second before. From behind another person grabs my chin, steadying me as I struggle, I try not to cry, I'm stuck with people who'll kill me and I want to go home. I want to listen to Uncle rant, to have Clara with me.

A terrified whimper escapes my closed lips, ignoring all my futile attempts to remain silent. I curse my predicament in my mind: How'd I ever end up like this? I've been trying to get out, to escape, to be myself, to be free and what I've been brought up to do, but time after time have been foiled. I can't breathe, can't think, can't even cry-

Someone's arms fold around me in a hug, squeezing.

That does it. I scream.

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Whoa. Six pages, and easily over 2,000 words without including the A/N. Just couldn't seem to find a place to stop.

Clara: And you still can't. You've got enough inspiration for another half chapter yet.

True.