Chapter Two:

As expected, his sleep had been terrible. He spent the night tossing and turning, every time he closed his eyes those silhouetted babies bombarded him with insults and requests to destroy himself. That feeling of hopelessness he had felt in the colourful world returned, so at dawn he had dragged himself out of bed and started painting. At first, he was just flinging paint at the canvas, but then they had started to take shape. Black splodges became tiny infants with the more detail he gave them. He started to paint the blocks in the background, carefully detailing them with random letters or numbers. Once he'd realised what he was painting, the sun had risen fully and he was running late for school. He was tempted not to go, because he was afraid that the sudden inspiration would leave while he was distracted by the day, but he knew he should.

So, he pulled on his uniform and skipped breakfast, then left to jog to school. He'd be late if he walked, but he was too tired to run. The other students had already gone inside when he got there. Before he had a chance to follow them, he noticed a girl watching from across the street. She was holding a rucksack. As he looked closer he realised it was his.

"Hey," he called out, but she had put down his bag and was already retreating.

She was dressed in regular clothes, but she was definitely the girl from before. She started to run as he reached his bag. Dave wanted to follow, but he was already late for school, so he let her go. He picked up his rucksack and started back toward the school.

Once he reached his classroom, Mr Hopkins had already started the register. He nodded at his teacher as he entered the room, and Mr Hopkins rolled his eyes and continued the register. Dave's desk folded out of the floor and he took his seat, ignoring Lissa and Laura's giggling in front of him. Throughout the day Dave had to wake himself up. Mr Hopkins' voice was dull and lifeless, and Dave couldn't help but doze off listening to him drone on.

"Dave's fallen asleep," Laura exclaimed, causing Dave to stir.

He raised his head slowly and came face to face with Lissa, who had been examining his sleeping face.

"What's the matter, want a kiss?" He smirked, causing her to jump backwards.

"Hell no, you wish," she cried indignantly, but she turned red all the same.

"Oh my god, you do!" He realised, and whooped smugly.

Most of the class had folded their desks down and were leaving to go home, and Mr Hopkins was looking through some paperwork distractedly.

"Don't flatter yourself," Lissa said coldly. "Who would want a lazy prick like you?"

"For your information, I was up all night painting," he fumed, now Dave was turning red.

"What for?" She sneered. "You've already lost the competition, so you may as shove your 'art' up your-"

"Melissa Adams!" Mr Hopkins said sharply, and Laura giggled.

"Freak," she muttered, and left with Laura close behind.

Dave sighed and went to pick up his own bag, realising that Lissa had left her bag behind.

He was tempted to steal it. Lissa was a nasty bitch and she certainly deserved it, especially after tormenting him about his art so much. But he also knew she kept her own sketchbook on her at all times, and he knew how sentimental it was to her. Mr Hopkins was too busy leaving to notice Dave had Lissa's bag, so Dave risked a glance inside. The sketchbook was right there, so he reached in and grabbed it. As he flicked through, he was impressed. She mainly used chalk and oil pastels, and her colour blending was incredible. She mainly did portraits; most of them were of Laura. He stopped when he realised there was one of him. Unlike the others, she had sketched his face in black and white, but it was definitely him. She had drawn him so miserable and sullen, and he found he was disappointed that she saw him this way. The more he looked, the more he was impressed. He wanted to hate it, but found he couldn't, so he turned the page and dropped the sketchbook in shock.

He couldn't believe it. They were almost identical. The silhouetted babies, the playing blocks, the mass of colour and arbitrary shapes behind them, all recorded in the book in chalk.

"What's gotten into you?" Lissa asked disinterestedly. "Have you seen my bag?"

"It's impossible," Dave murmured. "How could you know?"

"Know what?" Lissa said squarely, she was reaching for her bag.

"I only painted it this morning," Dave breathed, looking up from where the sketchbook lay open on the floor.

"Painted what?" She peered over the edge of his desk and gasped.

Lissa darted round the desk and snatched up her sketchbook, snapping it closed.

"That's private, freak!" She screamed. "Never look in there, do you understand?!"

"Whoa, chill out," Dave said, backing away even further. "If anyone should feel invaded, it's me."

"You?!" She screeched. "How dare-"

"You're the one watching me sleep," he cried. "Unless you have another explanation as to how we conveniently drew the same thing?"

She stopped and frowned at him.

"Show me," she demanded angrily.

"Fine." He shrugged.

He led her back to his house in silence. The walk was uncomfortable, and neither of them wanted to make any attempt at conversation. She kept sighing and Dave was relieved when they reached his front door. His dad would be at work, but Dave didn't know if that was good or bad. He didn't want to be alone with Lissa, but he also didn't want his dad to think something was going on between them. He hastily unlocked the front door and held it open for her. Then he showed her upstairs to his bedroom.

She frowned at him suspiciously as she entered, and he rolled his eyes again. Then her eyes locked onto the canvas, sitting proudly on its easel.

"You were in a Witch's Labyrinth," she gasped.

"It's not finished yet, but that's basically what I saw," he muttered, walking past her and examining the canvas.

"You were there," she realised slowly. "She was talking about you."

"The green girl?" Dave pressed. "She showed me the way out, and brought me my stuff this morning."

"She said a boy had been trapped in the Labyrinth before I showed up," Lissa explained. "Her name is Ira."

"Cool name," Dave thought aloud, and Lissa scowled at him.

"You should forget about it all," she told him. "Trust me, it's easier that way."