In the dream, Miriam was watching a younger version of herself going to school. She was wearing a jumper two sizes too big and pants short enough for her rainbow socks to peak through. Her backpack hopped on her back as she ran. Her ponytail (which she had done without really looking) was crocked. Grown Miriam could see through her own hands and feet like she was a ghost.

Child Miriam wanted to get to school to be THE very first in the line to get into the classroom. Most of the other girls didn't arrive until just a few minutes before the bell rang so they were at the back. She didn't have to talk to them if she was early.

She got into the yard, and when she saw that it was deserted, she jumped the hop-scotch. It was her first time doing it; usually it was too crowded. Then she spotted some other kids approaching her and went to stand in front of the school door. The two girls and three boys that arrived after her talked to each other quickly in another language, which suited Miriam just fine. She scowled in the windows at the decorations that other kids had put up.

I remember now, thought Grown Miriam, with a weary smile.

Grown Miriam looked away from the younger her and glanced around the yard. Other people were approaching now as well. She saw Olive.

Her clothes not only fit but looked like they came from a catalogue. Her hair was in a braid, which Miriam remembered feeling very jealous about. She spent at least two weeks staring at the back of Olive's head, trying to figure it out. Olive was talking to her friends as they approached. When she spotted the younger Miriam scowling in the window, Olive stopped talking and smiled a big, evil smile. Older Miriam chuckled.

I thought I was so discreet. She had to admit knowing what was going to happen made looking at Olive's stupid grin funny.

The bell rang and the kids followed the teacher into the classroom. Older Miriam stayed outside for a bit. She didn't really care to spend a second time listening to her old teacher. Instead, she played with the swings, slides and jumped on the painted hopscotch. She did more in the playground while dreaming than she had done while being a child.

At lunch time the kids ran out, ignoring a poor stressed woman who was screaming at them not to run. Miriam watched as the little version of her went to sit under the window and eat her lunch. She had forgotten her book that day, so she had 'borrowed' some chalk from the classroom on her way out and was drawing on the yard. She had carefully picked this place out to make sure that it was the least likely spot for the teacher on duty to catch her. Miriam went to sit next to her young self, feeling like some kind of guardian.

Olive and her gang came close. They were standing a little away from where young Miriam was drawing.

I didn't even notice how they had come from their normal spot by the gate, thought Miriam as her younger self drew what might have been a horse.

"Mommy's taking me shopping Saturday to find a present for Daddy. I don't know what we'll find for him yet but I'm going to make sure it's perfect. What are you getting for your daddy?" Olive asked a small girl with a pinched face.

The girl answered that she and her brother had found a book last week that he would like.

"Two of you and you only get him one book?" Olive asked.

"Well, no. Not just one book. We are getting him some chocolates after school. And a tie! A really cool looking tie."

Young Miriam was pretending not to listen, but her drawing had slowed down.

"How about you?" Olive asked another girl, who had gotten her father something for his computer that he wanted.

The next girl had bought a cookbook about cookies and they were going to bake some together. Then she had to assure them that she would bring them in some cookies. The last girl had gone with her mother to get tickets to a concert and they were all going to go to.

Olive turned to Miriam.

"What are you getting your dad, Miriam?" she asked innocently. Young Miriam looked at her, frozen.

"Oops," said Olive, putting her hand to her mouth. It didn't quite cover her smile. "I forgot. Sorry Miriam."

Then the bell rang and they all hurried to get back inside. One of the girls, the cookie one, hissed at Olive as they passed Miriam.

"Olive. That was mean!"

Child Miriam looked at her drawing, which she had been enjoying. She rubbed it out with her sleeve, covering it in white. She got up and slowly walked into school, her head hanging.

_________________

Miriam woke up, cold and alone and in a cage. It was dark, so she really couldn't see much. The light from her earring didn't stretch far into the room.

"Echo?" she whispered into the dark. Her friend with her face did not answer.

"Davis?" she whispered. Again there was no answer.

She felt a draught blow against her neck so she reached her hand up to move her hair into place. She grabbed at thin air. Blood was pounding around her skull painfully. Black danced over her eyes and created moving, swirling blind spots.

She put her hand higher and higher until she felt hair. It was like someone had cut it with a shears, choppy and uneven and very, very short. She ran her hand through it and felt the tips of the hair prickle her palms.

Quickly she checked everything. She still had everything else, including the monster's tooth that was quickly making a hole in her jeans pocket. She was still wearing the same clothes. Everything was the same, except for waking up in a cage with a buzz-cut.

There wasn't room to lie down or to stand up. She had been sitting, leaning her head against the cold steel of the bars. Her conscious drifted down and she couldn't fight the sleep that took her again.

___________

Miriam was being held back from Olive, whose nose was bleeding profusely. She was wearing a blue uniform, jumper and skirt, over a white shirt. Some blood had gotten on the white making her neck look like some kind of gruesome French flag.

That's wrong. We're too old.

Eight years old again, she was outside, waiting at the gate for her mother to turn up. She's late, but she's always late so Miriam waiting. This was the day that they were supposed to go shopping, plan the dinners for the week and buy chocolate. Then they would go home and eat the chocolate while watching a movie. It was Miriam's turn to pick a movie so they wouldn't be stuck watching a soppy romance that her mom loved to watch.

I forgot about movie day, thought Grown Miriam.

Then Olive was there with her friends. She had already been home, gotten dressed and come back with five of her friends in the ten minutes Miriam had been waiting. She was pushing a bike, a red one with white handles and a white leather seat. It looked like something that belonged in an advert for a toy store. She saw Miriam and turned to one of the other girls with a nasty little smile.

"You guys did like my party right? I know the cake wasn't chocolate. I hate sponge. I told her to get chocolate for my party. I just hope it wasn't ruined."

"Oh Olive, it wasn't ruined!"

"No, the cake was lovely!"

"It was the best party I ever went to."

"Guys..." said a fourth girl. It was the same girl who had shushed Olive earlier in the yard. She was looking, pointedly, at Miriam. Miriam was doing her best to look everywhere but at those girls. The dried gum cemented to the concrete had become fascinating.

"OH," said Olive, like she hadn't noticed Miriam three feet away from her, "That's alright. I doubt that she's listening. She's probably trying to add it all up."

"Add what up?" asked one of the other girls.

"Well my mom said that if she wants to make sure she gets her dad a present, she'll have to give out one to every man in the town. That's going to cost-"

How much it would cost was lost as little Miriam ran up and pushed Olive onto the ground. A surge of pride went through the older Miriam who watched a few steps away.

While the other girls were in shock and before Olive started to cry, the little Miriam grabbed hold of the red bike and ran away with it. They chased her but first they had to get the crying Olive off the floor and Miriam was pretty fast. She ran all the way to the park, which was empty except for two families with small children.

She climbed onto the bike and took a deep breath. Then she put up her legs, wobbled and fell over. She did this six more times until the bike was all scratched but she managed to stay balanced enough to move. She rode that bike all over the park and then down the street.

By the end of the day, she could take her hands off the handlebars without falling. When she got home there were scratches all over her hand and knees, her shoulder was bleeding. Olive and her mother were waiting with Miriam's own mother to yell at her. None of that mattered to Miriam though.

She had to work to keep from smiling as they yelled, especially when she asked Olive's mom what she meant by what she said. Judging by how sullen Olive was over the next few days, she had gotten an ear full when she got home that night.

Miriam had to give up her allowance for a few weeks to pay to have the bike painted. She didn't even mind that. Every time she saw Olive on her red bike after that, Miriam would remember working out how to ride it and smile a big, bright smile.

___________________

Miriam was smiling when she woke up again and pulled her head away from the bars. There was a line of light squeezing in under the gap of the door. Her head was much clearer than it had been the first time she woke up. It had been a strange dream, not completely accurate.

She had been about the same age in the dream as her sister was. It struck her how they looked alike at that age. They both looked like their father. Her smile faded as she remembered where she was. Miriam felt a pang of missing her family. She would have been happy to see even her over-bearing, shitty father.

Two people were talking in a hushed, hurried and frantic tone outside; two men. Neither of them were Davis.

She pulled her head up from the door and checked out her hair again as best she could. The edges were curling slightly and had bumps along them. The feeling, along with the smell she could now identify, made her think that the hair had been burnt off instead of cut. The hair wasn't hot to touch and no part of her felt as though it had been burnt.

She leaned forward in her cage and examined the lock. It was strange, reminded her of a padlock, attached to a chain wound between the bars of the door and the bars of the cage. There was no keyhole. Just a lot of metal curls spiralling into each other. She had no idea how to open it.

She used the light of the earring, dull as it was, to search around the cage for anything she could reach through the bars. She had the tooth in her pocket but that wasn't likely to make any mark on the bars.

She didn't see anything she could use to break open the lock but she did see a small, broken metal pole with a jagged edge and a potted plant. It looked like it belonged to a lamp. The broken glass next to it confirmed her idea. The pole was out of reach but the glass was more attainable.

Miriam couldn't turn fully in the cage so she couldn't watch what she was doing and make sure she was doing it carefully. She had to twist her hand painfully to grab at the pieces. Thankfully, she somehow only got a small scratch while grabbing a large shard of glass.

She just managed to get the glass into the cage when the door opened. She held it in her hand, hidden behind her back as someone walked into the room.

"Spies and criminals," he said.

"What?" she asked, eventually after letting him watch her examine him.

"Spies and criminals. That's all that come in here. You either want to tell them about me, kill me or steal what's mine. What is it?"

"I'm not a spy and I'm not a criminal. Where are the others?"

"Locked up like you. They wouldn't tell me the truth either. But you should. You have to."

"Why should I tell you anything?"

"Because it'll help me decide how to kill you," he said, his eyes shaking as much as his voice.