"Umm…Teacher? What does amphibian mean?"

The little question made Steve wake up from his daydream. He looked at the young boy doing the class homework, his eyes full of tire and explained that it was just a word for animals like frogs and salamanders.

This was the first time Steve asked for homework to be done while in class. He knew children hated these kinds of boring activities, especially when their favorite shows depicted science classes as always fun and full of cool experiments.

Steve understood it, and always tried to make his class as interesting as possible. Today was the first exception he made to this rule in three years.

He was just tired, disturbed and feeling like he had done something disgusting. Steve did not know exactly why. Maybe it was the fact he had seem an object of his waken life on it. That did not make any sense, thought! He had seem many other things already, why would a candy bag be so terrible to see? If this was the logic, he would be locked home, too scared to even move by now.

He had not brought his candies to the children today, just in case. Of course they were all disappointed and, some, even worried, but Steve was sure this was the best way.

The day went by with no greater incidents, other than a little girl crying over her not given reward for good behavior. It was a funny scene, to see her screaming and complaining she wanted chocolate while her mother screamed even more in embarrassment and anger. The poor girl sure would "find a reason to cry" when she got home. The man was heartbroken by this, thought. He hated to see sad children, especially when he was the reason they were so sad.

His head hurt like crazy by the time he left his job. The hot, heavy air typical of big cities just made it worse. He didn't complain about it, thought. A part of him acknowledged even this as his very own fault, fruit of something gruesome, awful he had "done".

His daily routine went on as usual. No one noticed his altered state, fortunately. Maybe it was because he usually didn't dare to say anything or because today was a particularly agitated day for both Martha and Kate. Even thought it was Friday, they still had many things to do.

Martha had a meeting that he had to attend and that would last for a couple hours. Not that big of a thing, but important for her job and, of course, gave her an excuse to go out with her "best friend" and have dinner together. As for Kate, she had a ton of homework to do on one her friends' house. After months insisting, her mother had finally allowed her to spend the weekend away.

By the time he finished preparing the classes for Monday, both had already left the house. Completely alone, he could do whatever he wanted to. For a second, he thought about turning on the computer. The possibility of misclicking and opening up Minecraft made him instantly give up. Out of things to do other than cleaning the house, he decided to go to the park.

The transit was calmer by now and so, the air felt purer. The park wasn't exactly a beautiful place for a walk, but it was alright. Steve didn't really care about the vandalized fountains, the garbage on the ground and awful landscaper work. Of course not. The trees, even if they were just five, and the surviving flowers more than made up for it.

"Islands of innocence amidst the corrupted surroundings…"

This was a completely irrelevant reflection on it, but somehow, it made sense for the man. It was linked to the Dream Children, too, except that they had not such a thing as innocence islands there. All of them were vandalized public buildings and milk shake cups thrown in the ground, full of vermin by now.

He sat on the first not disgusting bench he spotted and rested his head against his knees. He felt weak and dirty. Who in heavens would dream about such things? Certainly psychopaths! He would rather die than being connected to such scum.

He trembled and was pale. Maybe scared, even!

"It shouldn't shake me so much. It just shouldn't. It makes no sense! People have those dreams. It is normal, I think, and they don't get like…this. It is shameful! I cannot stop it, thought…ugh"

Something on the other side of the park suddenly called his attention.

It was a young girl wearing an old, torn and tattered dress. She seemed to live on the streets. He couldn't make out little details of her face due to distance, but he could see her hair was an astonishing golden color, thought reduced to a muddy blonde due to what were probably layers of years worth of not washing her hair.

She was standing up against a streetlight, arms crossed, as if waiting. It seemed just so…out of place. Of course, this wasn't a place exclusively for the rich and powerful. If it was, then he was just as misplaced as her. No, no, it was just that he had never seem a homeless kid before, or at least, one that looked so much like a homeless kid.

He wanted to go there and talk to her. It was more than just sympathy or pity, it was some sort of instinct, like a mother who sees her son crying and instinctively wants to know what happened and to comfort him.

He did not move out of his place, thought. A part of him knew it was the best to stay still, not even looking at her. This part saw what the other part chose not to see: The all too familiar aura of corruption around her angelical frame.

She looked around and, for a single second, pierced Steve with a pair of pitch black eyes that didn't match the rest of her. The sensation was breathtaking. His heart beat faster. It was some sort of anxious fear of her, even thought he knew that she couldn't do much against him.

He could stand up and go talk to her. It would be easy and would calm him down. He did not dare to, thought. He wanted to watch, to know more, feeling the weird mix of amazement and horror that took him over.

A black car appeared and stopped near the child. She talked a bit to the driver and got in. Maybe she wasn't homeless after all.

Feeling tense, heart pounding and without anything to do other than continue tormenting himself, he decided to go home and rest his head. It was enough for today.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He took a long bath. Martha wouldn't arrive before midnight, certainly, so he could just let the water warm him while he let his thoughts flow. A strong sick feeling, a headache and a terrible uneasiness. A part of him acknowledged the water waste, but right now, the destiny of the African people was not something he wanted to think about.

When he got out, it was already late in the night. Not a single sound could be heard, other than his wet steps in the floor. Drying himself carelessly, he sat on the bed for a minute before gathering the strength to go dress himself.

He feared what he could dream about today. Maybe it would just get worse from now on or simply vanish without leaving a trace of itself.

No matter how scared he was, he had grown some kind of anxious care for his little oppressive land of twisted children and broken beings.

And there was that girl…he couldn't help but to think she was important. Like a piece that belonged to another puzzle but that, somehow, fit perfectly in yours. She belonged in his dreams, no matter how surreal such concept seemed. He just knew it.

At this point, he froze in place.

Unconsciously, he had sat in front of his computer, opening google and Minecraft. Not only that, he was in a world he didn't remember creating: "TOWN KSPOTS"

Basically, it was an enormous map of the city, with several spots of colored wool with signs on top scattered around. His character stood on top of the park's simplified representation. He had just placed a gold block and put a sign on top of it.

"Little nameless slut—check out later"

His mind went blank. Had he done all of that without realizing? How? Was that even possible?

This had to be the reason of his otherwise unexplainable fear. Deep down, he probably knew all of that and thus, his brain just made him really stressed all the time so things like this could be minimized and…

No, that was just stupid.

Breathing deeply, he went around the mysterious map, checking on the signs. They were mostly names and vague, often vulgar, descriptions. He knew some of them. They were the names of handful students, mostly put on the place where their house was in the map or where they liked to be.

It just felt wrong…it was like he was stalking them all! Following their lives without any good reason and doing irrational things without realizing.

It was just too disturbing to handle.

He closed the game, staring at the clean google homepage underneath instead.

There was a plausible explanation. There had to be. Something or someone would explain it all to him, from the dreams to the map. They would say it all had been a silly joke, that there was no way he was crazy or weird, that everything was all right, that he had just been acting silly, as always.

But who was this "he" anyway? The man obsessively making a town map with names on them or the teacher giving out candy in the class? Was all of his life, all of the image of himself people had… A lie? It was something just too sudden, too crazy.

What if he had been actually seeking for an innocent looking image? What if he wanted people to believe he was innocent? Was there something deeper that he didn't know?

It was all Catherine's fault…her fault…

A sudden thought sent a chill down his spine. He pressed Ctrl+H, opening the historic.

It popped up on a new window. Everything was clean. Nothing out of the common. He was relieved. For a second he thought he would find something terrible there.

He closed both windows, not noticing the little, weirdly familiar detective symbol in the upper left corner of the screen under, watching him almost judgingly from his eternal spot.

Poor man. Full of terrible thoughts and unreasonable guilt.

When Martha arrived, he was long asleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You know it. You know us. You know everything. But why can't you just know yourself?"

Catherine's voice echoed through the silent city. He felt like screaming, falling, breaking something, anything… Could he ever manage to understand? He knew all he had to do, but somehow, it seemed like the reason had been erased from his mind. It was something humiliating and painful. Something broken and twisted, hiding.

Those kids are toys.

But why? He shouldn't think like that. He couldn't and it was wrong. There was no explanation whatsoever, thought. He just had to forget it, to bury it.

Ah, Martha…wasn't she cute, so long ago? Still looking like some seven year old even when she was, what? Fifteen? But she grew up, too, didn't she? Did I love her or what she represented?

What was the meaning? All he knew was that it hurt to think like that.

Soft fur, cold scales…he could feel these against his hands, now. Those horrible children were there.

Why am I scared of them? They are all so submissive and kind…

Those dreams meant something. They were there for a reason. They wanted to show him things he always denied, over and over.

The children were all around. Everywhere. Near and far. A pest and the only beauty of the condemned city in his mind, which he wasn't even sure as to why it was even there.

I know who I am. Why am I even worried? I know my name. My life. My place. I know myself.

He didn't want to let it happen. But he knew that he was lying.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the tiny, smiling zombie tied to the wall, as if waiting. He never took his eyes away from it, for if he did, he would have to acknowledge the sea of children's corpses rotting in the ground. All of it his fault, forever, no matter what.