(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 about it!)

Chapter 4

Amy slowly came back to herself from her unconscious state, and moaned in pain. A blanket had somehow materialized on her, but she had not been moved. She was lying on her face, her body twisted sideways, and her wrist pinned beneath her. She gasped and panted in pain. She thought her wrist might be broken.

What had happened? Where was she? She tried to concentrate, but after pulling her swollen wrist out from underneath herself, and shifting to make be more comfortable, remaining conscious was too much for her. She fell back asleep.

This time, when Amy woke up, she remembered what happened perfectly. The garden, the crumbly metal devices, the man, and the knives. She must have had a seizure. Nothing else could explain why her back muscles were sore like they were. And now she remembered back even further, to the empty medicine bottle, and the trip to the doctor's office that she apparently never made. She groaned aloud.

"Are you all right?" someone asked softly.

Amy's head snapped around. She was a shocking sight, her eyes glassy, and an open, bleeding gash on her forehead. If anyone's that stupid, they deserve to be yelled at, Amy thought. "OF COURSE I'm not all right . . ." Amy cried. Yelling took a colossal effort though, and her impressive war cry dwindled into almost a whisper from the pain in her bruised ribs.

"I want to go home," she muttered to herself. "That's what I should've done in the first place, just gone straight home. I could've had a nice little contained seizure at home, been taken immediately to the hospital, given medicine, and then lain in bed for a week. Instead, I've fallen down a flight of stairs, broken numerous body parts, and are now lying on the cold floor freezing to death."

All her fear of this stranger dissipated. It was all his fault! Angrily, she turned her head and asked sharply. "Who are you?"

The mild voice replied hesitantly, "Edward."

She relented slightly, and said, "Mine's Amy."

For the first time, Amy got a good look at Edward. Thick, black, springy hair seemed to go everywhere. It framed a pale face. His eyes were dark and bruised looking, and seemed to contain all the sadness in the world. His lips were dark tinted and full, and his flesh was laced with scars. He was wearing a black leather outfit, covered in buckles and metal rings. Then she saw his hands. They were a loose assortment of scissors, bolted together, but moving independently. They were moving rapidly, twitching and rubbing against each other. He was staying well away from her.

Amy opened her mouth to scream, but coughed instead. She turned slightly, and rolled onto her hurt wrist. She whimpered and huddled up, catching her breath.

"Well, why are you just standing there?" Amy stormed breathlessly. "Are you going to kill me or help me?!"

Edward stepped towards her hesitantly, paused, appeared to change his mind, and stepped back. "I wouldn't hurt you," he said, his voice a little stronger.

"Then help me, dammit!"

His silence and upraised hands spoke more eloquently than words. He would not come nearer. It wasn't safe. His scissors twitched violently, and the look on his face was almost heartbreaking.

Amy was not paying attention to his body language. She cursed her bad fortune. Naturally, the only person around when she couldn't get up was a man with no hands. It was just like a bad joke, a prank. Maybe in a few minutes, this guy would rip off scissor-handed gloves, and laughing, help her up. No such luck of course. The scissors were obviously mechanisms, not gloves. There were spaces between the scissors where you could see straight through them, where an ordinary hand would have had flesh and bone.

Amy slowly pushed herself up with one hand, taking all her otherwise dead weight on one arm. For the first time, she realized how heavy the human body is. She curled her broken wrist against her stomach. Finally, she was sitting upright, leaning against the staircase.

"Oooh . . ." she groaned. The blood rushed to her head in a particularly nauseating way. She leaned back quickly and assessed her wounds. It wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought. The only thing she appeared to have broken was her wrist. She was badly bruised, but that was all.

All the while, Edward had been watching, fascinated. Gaining a little courage, he stepped towards this odd girl and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I just need a little time. I'll be able to walk out of here in an hour, tops," Amy said. It was true, the pain from her bruises was fading into a dull throbbing, and the weakness from her seizure was quickly dissipating. Her wrist however – well, you don't walk on your hands. She'd just have to deal with it.

"So, what are you doing here? Why haven't I heard about you?" Amy asked.

"I-I live here," Edward said. Amy sighed. She had that one coming to her. She should stop asking obvious questions anyways.

"So, what's with the hands?" Amy asked. He looked at her bleakly.

"I'm not finished."

"Huh? No wait. Never mind, I don't want to know." Amy pointed out the door Have you ever been down there before? I mean, out in town?"

A blank look passed over Edward's face, and he lowered his head. Not before Amy saw an unusually sorrowful look in his eyes, though.

She snapped her fingers. "You're the one who does the topiaries out there, aren't you?"

He raised his head, looking confused, and nodded his head.

What am I doing? Trying to make conversation? He's dangerous! Amy thought to herself. With this dampening thought, she fell quiet, absorbed in gloomy reflections. So when Edward asked her a question, she was greatly surprised.

"Do you – do you know Kim?" Surprised by the fervor in his voice, Amy looked up, and was even more surprised. His eyes were wide open and hopeful, he was leaning forward slightly, his scissors held out to his sides clacking wildly. In his eagerness to know, he actually stepped several paces closer.

Amy's breath halted in her throat, and she tried to shrink inside herself. "Who- who's Kim?" she croaked, holding out her hand, signaling for him to stop.

He halted, confused. "Everybody knows Kim," he murmured, staring at her quizzically. "Kim Boggs," he said louder. "Do you know her? Have you heard of her?" he asked again. His words were hesitant and fearful.

"No. I've never heard of her. Who is she?" Amy asked, bored. Instead of answering, Edward turned around, absolute despair on his face. "Hey, I'm sure it'll be fine, you'll hear something about her I bet," Amy added, a little concerned. Then she remembered who – or what – she was talking to, and decided it was time to go. She felt much better, besides her atrocious stiffness, soreness, and pounding headache. But at least she could walk. It could've been much worse. She stood up, swayed shakily, and set off towards the door.

"Don't go!" came the plea from behind her.

"Sorry kid, I've got places to be," Amy said resolutely. It wouldn't be dark for an hour or so. She could make it home, and have her mother drive her to the hospital to get her wrist set.

"Will you come back?" This was said so wistfully, that Amy stopped involuntarily, half frightened. She didn't know what this guy might do to her

"Uh, yeah. Yes, sure. I will come back and visit you. No doubt about it. Won't let you down. Right after the hospital," Amy slid out of the door as fast as she could, mentally promising herself, Never, never ever coming back. Never.

Edward watched her leave. She was strange, no doubt, and more than a little frightening. But she had talked to him. He had forgotten how wonderful attention was, and how important it could make him feel.

She would come back. She had promised, after all. And maybe she could help him find Kim . . .

(Seems like Amy didn't exactly hit it off with Edward! Will she come back? Tune in next week to find out! ;)

P.S. Be kind. Please review!)