Disclaimer- I do not own Edward Scissorhands. I do not own any aspect of this story except Amy. If I did own it all, you could bet I wouldn't be sitting here writing a fanfic!

Chapter 3

Scraps of songs floated through Amy's head. She found humming aloud to be strangely pleasing and calming. Her visible agitation slowly faded. The events of the day seemed to fade into the background. She let her sore muscles take over, and her tired brain relax.

It was a steep hill, and Amy was beginning to think she would never reach the top, but finally, she reached a gate. She pushed the screechy, insistent thing open, and slid through it. So far, Amy had not really been using her brain much, but the benumbed lump inside her skull finally started thinking.

"What am I doing? This could be private property! I could be arrested. I'd look a fool then. Oh, wait until the jerks at school hear this one!" she moaned to herself. However, she stood irresolute, urged on by a sense of adventure, but held back by common sense. She craned her neck, trying to see past the gate. Once she did, she rushed forward, all thoughts of leaving vanishing.

It was a beautiful topiary garden. A green serpent rose and sank out of the ground. A giant hand was lifted towards heaven. All sorts of fantastic and bizarre shapes inhabited these bushes. There were flowers everywhere. A romantic, "secret garden" aura hung around the place. It was lonely but beautiful, and undoubtedly secret.

"Stop that!" Amy scolded herself. "Think sensibly. It's just a pretty garden."

Amy wandered around the yard, completely entranced despite her words. Sometimes she reached out to touch something. Every once in a while she just stood and stared.

But slowly, an obvious question was coming up. Who did this? The bushes didn't just grow this way, and the mansion was, to all appearances, abandoned. Anybody who let their home get in this condition would not have wasted time in the garden. And yet, here it was.

"Overzealous groundskeeper?" Amy suggested to herself. "Time to leave anyway. But . . . one glance inside couldn't hurt."

Amy pushed and shoved at the door until she got it to creak open, rumbling ominously. She stuck her head inside and looked around. Her mouth opened in astonishment.

The place was just as dusty and crumbly and broken down on the inside as it was on the outside. Gargoyles squatted on the stair rail, leering. A decrepit chandelier hung from the ceiling. Everything was covered with a layer of dust. Venturing further in, Amy saw large, round black mounds off to the side. She examined them carefully. All she could make of it was that it was hollow, metal, and hooked up to a great many other things.

Now Amy really wasn't paying attention, as she wandered further and further in, admiring intricate woodwork, strange shapes, and things malformed by age and rust.

A motion in the corner caught her attention. She put down the long steel pole she had been examining, and walked over. "Hello?" she called out briskly.

Suddenly she remembered that she was in someone else's house, and that they might not like her being here. More cautiously this time, she called out again, "Hello?"

A silhouette framed itself in the doorway. The sun was shining almost directly through the door, and Amy could only see a black blotch. She was about to call out again, when the breath was halted in her throat. The figure was carrying a load of knives. Her brain whirled, and then grasped the likeliest story. She was interrupting a drug deal, and they were coming to finish her off so she didn't report them.

A scream whipped out of her throat. Stupid, stupid! How did she get so far from the door? Naturally there would be someone blocking her only way out. She spotted the staircase and edged over slowly.

By now, the figure had stumbled away from the door. If Amy hadn't been blinded by the sunspots she was seeing, she would have noticed he looked more terrified than she did. She cleared her throat. "What do you want?" she asked. Her voice was wobbly and weak sounding, and cracked ridiculously on the last word. The figure, now sprawled on the floor, blinked owlishly at her, and huddled away.

"It's a trap," she muttered. "Trying to lure me in." Well, she was not getting near him with that hardware, not while she still valued her life. She suddenly took off for the staircase, expecting a knife in her back at any second. Surprisingly, she made it all the way up. The second her foot touched the top stair; she whirled around, intending to defend herself.

He was still crouched by the door. Amy's heart sank, but she continued running. She could see his strategy now. Obviously that door was the only exit, and he didn't intend to leave his post. She would have to go back eventually.

She found her way to the attic, and found the only window she had seen so far. She peered down, but had to quickly turn away. She was afraid of heights, and this was very, very high. Feeling queasy, she looked around, and saw a giant hole in the ceiling.

"Funny, how did I miss that?" she wondered. She stared out at the clouds. Perhaps the best thing to do was to jump after all. She might survive. The unspoken, probably not hung in the air before her.

She suddenly determined to go back downstairs and take her chances with knife boy.

Tense, she sidled out of the room. She was deathly afraid. Being sliced into was not her preferred means of death. She was about to turn around and face down the window again, when a quiet, "Who are you?" shattered the silence.

Amy exploded into action. True, she did nothing useful except spin around, scream and flail, but her reflexes were amazing. The figure, a young man with a deathly pale face and deep set eyes, flinched and shrank back from this banshee. He brought his hands up in an instinctive protective gesture.

All Amy saw was this flash of bright metal, and then bright shears dancing at eye level a mere three feet away. She turned and ran, but as she did so, a bitter, oily smell, and fireworks going off in her brain assaulted her. She was convulsing before she hit the first step, and then she fell down them all, body twitching uncontrollably.

Yes, I know you had to wait two chapters, but you've finally seen Edward! Sorta . . . Anyways, be kind and please review, I would find it most comforting to know my story is being appreciated.