Looking back on his actions after Tootie's outburst, running off to lock himself in his room probably hadn't been the best idea. At first Chester tried to get him to open the door but gave up after a half hour. That was two hours ago and his phone had been going off ever since. His father had been concerned by what Tootie said but hadn't come into the house to check on him. Once he couldn't cry anymore he'd been playing music very loudly in his room. Of course no one could hear it because the room was sound proof but he could hear what was going on outside. A few minutes ago he thought he heard shouting outside in the yard between a man and a woman so he turned the music down. By the time he did the voices had stopped.

Now that he had managed to calm down he looked through the dozens of texts from his friends and dad. They asked if he was alright, what had Tootie meant by _, and expressed concern for his well being. The newest text was from Chester and it managed to raise Timmy's spirits a little. Normally the blonde used abbreviations and kept his texts very short but this one was different, yet still distinctly Chester.

' Dude don't let what that bitch said get ya down. Me and the gang are here for ya, not to mention a cute little blonde chick ;) '

Just as he was about to reply, Timmy heard a commotion downstairs. Opening his door he heard a voice that surprised him, his father's.

"I'm sorry but that's my final decision."

Quietly, the teen made his way down the hall and crouched where the railing and wall met so he could see into the living room. There was his dad with his arms crossed, waiting by the open front door expectantly. Standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen was Vicky. All the blood had drained from her face.

Her eyes went wide as she looked at the floor then back to Mr. Turner. "I don't have anywhere else to go." Her voice was barely audible.

"I'm sorry." Mr. Turner repeated. He meant it but his voice was firm.

Years ago the teen would have basked in this moment. There was the woman who'd made him miserable looking like her whole world had just fallen apart. But he wasn't that boy anymore, now he pitied her. The woman downstairs looked nothing like the confident, manipulative, strong babysitter she used to be. Now she looked like she was made of glass and that one more crack would finally break her. He knew what it felt like to hide the cracks, trying to patch them up so no one noticed when he was really ready to break. It was a terrible feeling and no one deserved to feel like that. That wasn't something he'd wish on anyone.

"You can come back for your things tomorrow."

A tear rolled down her cheek and Timmy couldn't just sit there anymore. Something made him get up and walk down the hall.

"Dad?" His feet had brought him to the top of the stairs.

His father looked at him, surprised to see him out of his room. Meanwhile the redhead wiped her face with the back of her hand; she refused to look at either of them.

"What's going on?"

"Well, I did some thinking and maybe letting Vicky live here wasn't the best idea."

"She's been here three days, how do you know it won't work out?"

Timmy was at the bottom of the stairs now.

His father looked from his son to the redhead and back. "Looking back, I think Tootie might have been telling the truth about her being abusive."

Vicky walked over to the couch and sat down. More tears rolled down her face as she tried to keep herself calm. Not defending herself wasn't helping but that was probably what the shouting had been about earlier. Now his mind was scrambling to decide what to do. If he didn't say something soon even his dad would suspect something but did he even want to defend her? After all wasn't this just karma coming back to bite her in the ass? A voice in the back of his mind told him to tell the truth and get her thrown out. It was what she deserved, this would be his revenge.

Then she looked up at him and the faint feeling of satisfaction at seeing her so vulnerable disappeared. There was something there, in her eyes that looked so similar to what he saw in his own. Something had happened to her in the years since she'd left, something bad. They both knew she had no right to ask him for help, but her eyes pleaded anyway.

Turning back to his dad, the teen made up his mind on what to do. He just hoped he didn't regret it later.

"You believed her? Dad, Tootie's nothing but a manipulative liar now. That's all she's been for the last two years. "

That had surprised them both. His father seemed to be reevaluating the situation while Vicky stared at him.

Unfortunately that didn't change his dad's mind. "Well I still believe her. There were times when your mother and I came home and I noticed bruises."

"And Vicky's the only person who could have left them? Come on, I told you I was bullied in school."

It wasn't a complete lie. Back when Francis had been a bully he had left some bruises, on occasion some cuts, but not every bruise was because of him. He just left most of the ones that couldn't be hidden under his clothes. Luckily Timmy had told his dad about that, otherwise he might not have bought the lie so well. While Mr. Turner thought that over, Timmy closed the front door. Around his dad he could see Vicky listening intently to the conversation that might change the man's mind. She bit her lip.

Finally Mr. Turner looked back at Vicky then to his son. "Son, did Vicky ever abuse you when she was your babysitter?"

"No."

His father looked at him for a moment. Waiting for the slightest hint that his son was lying, he didn't know Timmy had become a very good liar. So now that he had both people involved denying Tootie's allegation there wasn't much he could do beside drop it.

Turning to the redhead, "okay, you can stay then but I want to make one thing clear."

Uh-oh this couldn't be good.

"I've heard some rumors about you young lady and you will not have those kinds of relations with my son."

What the hell? Was he serious? One minute he's trying to throw her out of the house for suspected abuse and the next he's telling them not to have sex? His dad was an idiot.

Without meaning to Timmy laughed, a cruel laugh. "Are you serious?" Wait, that wasn't his voice, well it was but there was something off about it. "You're going to set sexual boundaries between me and her when you're screwing the neighbors?"

Why was he saying those things? He didn't mean to say them, they just came out. The look on his father's face matched the one that had been on Vicky's when he first saw them talking.

"This is my house, you're my son, and you're still underage – "

"So the hell what? Doesn't stop my mother from screwing guys a couple years older than me now does it? Your house? This is the first time in two years you've stepped foot in here."

The look on his father's face made him feel ashamed for the words he couldn't seem to stop from coming out of his mouth. After a moment his father left and the teen couldn't bring himself to apologize. He was afraid of what he might say. Not wanting to stay downstairs he started back up the stairs.

"Turner –"

"Don't," he turned to look at her. She was standing now. "Don't thank me, don't ask me why, just leave me the hell alone."

Running back to his room he grabbed his ipod, headphones, and cell phone before climbing out his window. About a year ago, after forgetting his keys again when his fairies were away he'd wished for some grips, like the ones on rock walls, on the side of the house under his window. Wanda had made it to where only he could see and use them just to keep him safe. He used these to get down. Grabbing his bike he rode over to the trailer park. Right now he really needed to talk to his friends.

It was early the next morning when he climbed back up to his room. He'd spent the rest of the previous day at Chester's just talking. No matter what anyone said about Chester's intelligence, he was a great friend. When the brunette told him that he lied about the abuse, the blonde didn't question why. He could tell his friend didn't know why either so he just decided Timmy was a forgiving person. The fact that he was friends with Francis at all and had been the one to convince the rest of the gang to give him a chance was nothing compared to forgiving Vicky.

They talked about what Tootie had said. Chester hadn't taken most of it seriously. Everyone already thought the monster of an ex-babysitter was a bit of a slut but they valued their lives too much to say it out loud. Eventually they talked about the one subject Timmy had hoped to avoid. Tootie had said he was suicidal, which wasn't completely true or completely false. Something told him to admit that to his best friend but he couldn't. The thoughts were never serious, just things that entered his head when he was really down, usually after an encounter with his mother. Thinking his friend was telling the truth about it being another lie, Chester let the matter drop. When they talked about his outburst with his dad, the blonde made him feel better about it. It had probably just been pent up anger mixed with rage brought on by the black haired girl. His dad had accidentally set him off so he'd just apologize the next day.

After a while the conversation turned to other topics, school, summer plans, and eventually to a certain new acquaintance. It felt like old times. Sometimes it was nice to talk to Chester without the others around. He was weird, not too bright, but always good for a laugh. A.J. would just try to steer the conversation towards something academic or take a logical approach to situations while Chester just spoke his mind. Sanjay and Elmer were listeners; they didn't really talk things out with you unless the whole group was together. Before leaving Timmy had his phone stolen and later found a text sent to Ryan asking if she wanted to go to the mall with him and his friends Friday. Everything was fine until he biked home.

Left alone with his thoughts, he began to doubt some of the things he'd been so sure of while talking to his friend. No matter how mad he was, his dad hadn't deserved that. What if it just pushed his dad further away? Losing his mother had been bad enough; he couldn't lose his dad too. He should have apologized instead of running off to be with his friend. First thing in the morning he'd apologize. With that settled it was time to decide what to do about Vicky. The obvious thing to do would be to tell her she owed him and to make life miserable for her. Maybe threaten to tell his dad the truth if she pissed him off. No, that would be a horrible thing to do. He refused to turn into that kind of person. She'd probably act like nothing happened in a few days anyway. Probably best to just keep their distance from each other for a while.

Back in his own room he laid down in his bed. A thousand thoughts swirled around in his head before he finally drifted off to sleep.

Pencils scratching on paper, rows of people concentrating on tests, and Timmy looking around totally confused, this wasn't his normal dream. His classmates were back to being ten years old again. As he watched as they all aged to their current ages. It was the weirdest thing to watch in fast forward. In fact everything was in fast forward now. Pencils flew across papers faster than humanly possible and the tear in the board appeared almost instantly. Time started to slow to its normal pace when the first dragon came through. It just stood there staring at him. That's when someone put their arm around his neck, choking him. There was a quick struggle before he broke free to see Chester behind him.

No, not Chester, something that had been Chester. His friend's face was now covered in scales, his eye sockets were empty, and his teeth were all pointed. There was a sickening cracking sound as his arms lengthened and bent at an odd angle. It now looked like he had an extra joint between his elbow and shoulder. His hands morphed into three claws, two facing forward and one facing backward. Dropping onto all fours its knees jolted back so they bent backward. The face no longer looked human. It had lengthened into a snout, with an extra empty eye socket below and off to the side of the pre-existing ones. Opening its mouth, the thing hissed at him, and Timmy saw that its tongue and throat were lined with teeth. It lunged at him and caught his right hand in its mouth. Snapping its head to one side it ripped the flesh of his hand. There were bits of shredded flesh hanging off his hand.

The brunette had backed up against the door without realizing it. All of his classmates had morphed into similar creatures. Only shade differences in their scales and a little bit of hair remained to help distinguish who they'd been. Another dragon came through the portal. They were all walking towards him, they had him cornered. He was scared. Every time he saw the dragons he knew what kind of pain to expect but these things, who knew what they were capable of.

As futile as it was, Timmy tried to open the door. He expected to be attacked by the monsters any second but then something strange happened. Out of habit he hadn't turned the knob all the way but there was no familiar click of the lock. The revelation must have shown on his face because one of the mutated creatures lunged at him as he fell through the now open door.

He was sitting outside the classroom that had haunted his dreams for so long. Shock kept him rooted to the floor until something yanked his ankle, trying to drag him back inside. With his free foot Timmy kicked its face until it let go. A roar seemed to signal the rest of them to charge the door. Timmy jumped up and slammed the door shut. There was a faint click as the door locked, followed by a series of violent thuds against the door. He braced himself against the door, determined to keep it shut despite how useless the gesture was. Sheer numbers would force the door open again, or so he thought.

Several minutes went by and still the door held fast. As hard as the creatures on the other side tried, they weren't succeeding. The door that had held him prisoner for so long was now keeping his nightmares in. Not wanting to stick around should the door eventually give way, he started walking down the hall.

There were no other doors or windows, no markings on the floor or walls, nothing but one continuous hallway. After a while he realized that there were no curves or corners so he assumed it was a straight hallway. Not long after he began to think his mind was playing tricks on him and he wasn't actually moving. Turning around, he was prepared to see the door to the classroom, but all he saw was an identical hallway to the one he'd just turned away from. Looking in one direction and then the other, Timmy quickly forgot which way was which.

That was when he noticed something odd about the wall to his left. He couldn't put his finger on what seemed off about it but his curiosity drew him to the wall. With both hands outstretched he walked toward the wall and waited to feel wood on his palms. His right hand found wood but the other fell through the space that should have been wall. The result was him falling through the unnoticeable gap onto his side, leaving behind a bloody, smeared handprint on the wall.

He'd fallen into another hallway that blended perfectly with the one he'd just come from. How many similar halls had he passed? Well it wasn't really a hallway since it only continued a few feet to his right. There was a door at the end of it, a simple wooden door. If there was one thing the teen had learned lately it was that having time to think in his dreams was never a good sign. From somewhere in the distance he heard a loud, echoing bang followed by a deafening roar. Those things had managed to get out of the classroom which meant it was only a matter of time before they found him. He needed to hide somewhere but where? Looking at the new door he had his doubts, what if there was something worse behind it? Was it worth the risk hoping he found another one of these hidden gaps? There wasn't much time so he decided to hide in the new room if the door opened, if it didn't he'd feel along the wall until he found another hall to hide in. Something was running down the main hall, something big. The door opened and he went in.

Ear pressed against the door, he listened as it approached. To his dismay it slowed down and stopped. It must smell his blood. There was a low growl from the creature before it continued down the hall at a slower pace. Heart pounding he waited until he couldn't hear it anymore before slowly counting to ten. Outside there was still silence so he opened the door, well, he would have if the stupid door would open. It wasn't locked, just stuck. No amount of pushing on the door made it move so he just gave up. Guess he was now stuck in this room and whatever horrors it held.

The room was pitch black and freezing cold. Even after his eyes adjusted to the dark Timmy still couldn't see anything. There was just the eerie feeling that he was being watched. Then something moved not far away, there was the sound of a heavy chain moving too. It made him jump back against the door. He yelped when he felt the doorknob being rammed into his back.

That was when someone started laughing, a cruel, humorless laugh that made his skin crawl. He knew that laugh.

"Finally made it out huh? Took you longer than I thought."

Timmy's stomach seemed to disappear. That voice, no it couldn't be, it just couldn't.

"Denial, such a fascinating state of mind."

Suddenly the room lit up. It was only a few feet across and only a foot or so wide. Only the wall across from him wasn't lined with floor to ceiling mirrors, it made the room look like some twisted dance studio. That one looked like the surface of crystal clear water, a bit distorted but easy to see through. Beyond it was what he could only assume was a cell. Even though the room was brightly lit, the light only reached a foot into the cell. Whatever was in there was kept in the dark. From what he could see it was dirty in there and there was a putrid smell coming from it.

There was nothing else in the room, just a few reflections of him in the glass walls.

"Why don't you take a closer look?" It wasn't a suggestion.

Hesitantly the brunette walked closer to the cell. Now that he was closer it looked a little less like water and more like a force field.

From within the cell he could hear heavy chains dragging across a stone floor. Whatever was in there was coming to meet him. A pale, sickly figure stood just beyond the light. It might have been human but it was hard to tell. All he could really tell was that it was really thin.

"Now, now friend, it isn't polite to hide in the shadows. Come say hello."

What emerged from the shadows made his stomach turn. To his horror it was a human, its skin wasn't just pale it was grey and the matted hair on its head covered its face. There were shackles attached to heavy chains on both its ankles and hands. It was little more than skin and bones so he was surprised it had the strength to stand. Light, threadbare clothes hung loosely from its frame. In some places they'd been torn with dark brown, yellow, and even blood red stains around the frayed edges. He noticed its legs were shaking and doubted it would be able to stand much longer.

Seconds later its legs gave out and it fell, not even attempting to catch itself. It let out a groan before pushing itself up into a sitting position. For a moment it sat there taking labored breaths. Even if this was just a dream Timmy couldn't help but feel sorry for it. Scanning along the walls and water-force-field he couldn't find any way into the cell. When that didn't work he decided to see if maybe the force field could be opened from his side. Before he could touch the barrier he saw it move. It just hit the floor in front of it. Was it trying to tell him something? His hand met no resistance where the barrier should have been but instead kept going until his arm went into the cell up to his elbow. That same feeling hit him like a truck, the cold, the fear, and the overwhelming despair back in the classroom when he'd been pulled through the portal spread into every fiber of his being. Yanking his arm back out caused him to fall onto his back. The feeling went away as soon as his arm was free, mostly anyway.

Again the figure hit the floor, this time a bit more forcefully. The chain on its arm clinked against the stone. Sitting up he looked at the chains. There was more than enough slack for it to pass through the barrier, so why didn't it?

"Because unlike you it isn't free to pass through, someone else has to free it."

Where was that voice coming from? The room was a cell and mirrors so where was this third person hiding?

"Still haven't figured it out have you?" Now it sounded like the voice was moving around the room as it spoke.

"Figured what out?" He looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice.

"Why don't you and I talk face to face? Just walk up to the glass, anywhere will suffice."

Not sure what to expect the teen slowly stood up and walked over to one of the mirror walls. All he saw was his reflection. He was pale, looked tired, and a bit sick. When had he started letting his health suffer?

Wait, something was off about his reflection. At first he thought maybe the glass was warped but then he noticed something. His reflection started to look healthier, its skin gained some color, eyes were brighter and more alert, but then it did something he didn't. His reflection smirked at him. Those couldn't be his eyes staring back at him, they were darker and cruel. Now it barely resembled him.

The reflection saw his confusion and panic. The smirk became a cruel grin that showed he–it had fangs. In fact the him in the mirror looked incredibly feline. Balancing on its heels the twisted version of him crouched down and seemed to lean towards him. Without thinking the actual Timmy took a few steps back, afraid that thing would somehow come out of the mirror. The look on its face was like a predator that had stumbled across a trapped animal, completely overjoyed. Pointed ears stuck out of dark, slicked back hair. One arm rested across its knee while the other was on the floor in front of it, kind of like a sprinter getting ready to go. Its hands ended in long, claw-like nails. Whatever it was, it was poised to pounce.

"There, that's better isn't it?" Hearing his voice come out of that thing disgusted him. Well it wasn't quite his voice but it was eerily close.

"What the hell are you?" The real Timmy asked.

The arm across its knee moved to clutch the fabric over its heart in mock hurt, "now you've hurt my feelings. Can't you see that I'm you, a part of you at least?"

When he didn't reply the feline version of him laughed.

"I knew you were in denial but I wasn't expecting this. Shall I explain it to you then?"

The arm that had been over its heart moved but thankfully staying on the other side of the glass. Its clawed hand looked like it was holding something. At the same time Timmy felt a pressure on his chin, like someone was holding onto it, and their nails were digging into his jaw painfully. When the reflection squeezed its fingers he could feel those claw-like nails digging deeper into his flesh. Instinct made him pull back but the pressure on his chin kept him in place. He only succeeded in causing a couple of nails to draw blood.

"As I said I'm a part of you. A part of you that can be safely tucked away in some dark corner of you mind where I can't cause any harm. I feed off your fears, hatred, and anger, among other things. Every day I grow stronger and you lose a little bit of your real self which in turn makes you a little more like me. Not that you see it that way of course. I just help you rationalize that you're say, protecting your friends so that you can take on a certain pigtail wearing brat down a notch, to help make myself stronger. Then there was my little appearance yesterday, I had a lovely time talking to your dad. Oh just you wait until I can actually control what you do and say, then you and I will have some real fun." It made a motion of pushing him back and Timmy fell onto his back again.

"Just think of me as a personification of your own willful destruction. I'll have to thank that girl of your's for giving me so much strength recently. It won't be long now before I can let depression poison your mind and soul."

Scrambling to his feet, Timmy backed away from the wall. If that thing was what filled him with despair and worthlessness then did that mean the creature in the cell–?

"Clever, clever boy, figured it out without even one little hint." It laughed again, a cruel laugh, "just don't forget that you put yourself in there."

Then it started all at once, every negative thought for the past two years flooded his mind all at once. Some in his voice, some in the reflection's.

She doesn't care anymore.

Am I really that worthless?

They don't give a damn about me.

Maybe I really am a waste.

What's the point anymore?

Should I just make it all stop? But –

Now really, who's going to miss you?

She'd never even notice you're gone.

Covering his ears the brunette yelled for it all to stop. Now new voices were joining in; his dad, his mother, neighbors, friends, classmates, even Tootie. Repeating words that had cut him deep, even if they weren't said to hurt him. Despite the voices overlapping he could make out every word and relived the emotions brought on by those words all at once. Anger, shame, embarrassment, confusion, fear, sadness, it was all overwhelming. His nails dug into the flesh around his ears as he gritted his teeth.

Then over all the other voices he heard Tootie's. It was like she was whispering in his ear, repeating everything she'd said the day before. Timmy swung both his arms in the air in a futile attempt to make the voice stop, as if hitting someone who wasn't there would make them be quiet. The reflection chuckled. It opened its mouth but spoke in Tootie's voice, telling him he was worthless, that his friends were sick of dealing with him, and that everyone would be happier if he died.

"NO!"

As suddenly as the voices started they stopped. Shock spread across the reflection's face as it stared into the cell. Terrified, Timmy followed its gaze to the human sitting in the cell, in the same spot as before. There was no way that thing could have spoken. It was sickly and weak while the voice had been strong and clear.

"No."

Like the reflection, this thing has his voice but it actually sounded like him. Its voice wavered and was barely audible, but it was still his voice.

"Still hanging in there I see. Looks like you still need to be beaten down a bit, can't have you ruining my fun now can I?"

It looked at the mirror, hair covered the upper half of its face.

"How about we show you what you've become? See if you can save yourself."

Jumping up to his feet, the brunette backed away as the person in the cell raised a hand to push its matted hair from its face. This had to be his mind's sick imagination, there was no way this was real.

"Of course we're real. Did you really think all those nightmares weren't trying to warn you of a deeper problem in your mind? He's used most of his remaining strength to warn you."

He barely heard it over the sound of his pounding heart at the sight of the creature's face. It was him, not the twisted version in the mirror, it looked just like him. Except that it looked like it was being starved. The skin was pulled tight over its skull with a pair of sunken eyes staring at him. It looked tired, not the exhausted tired he felt but the kind when you just want to give up, stop trying. However the pain it should have felt, the exhaustion, the weakness its body clearly showed, none of that showed in its eyes. There was a fierce determination in them. At one time it had probably shone like a blazing fire but now it just glowed like hot coals.

They stared at each other. Then it started to shake until it fell over, chest barely moving.

He's–I'm dying.

"You're losing yourself boy, and once you're lost, I get to steal your soul."

Timmy woke up screaming and he kept screaming until his voice gave out. It took a long time for him to slow his heart and even longer to stop shaking. The last thing he remembered before waking up was a weak, breathless voice saying 'fight'.