Chapter 10 - Heroes

    “Great, darling, I love it!” Antonio exclaimed enthusiastically. His white shirt was fiercely tucked in to his skinny jeans and open just one button too many, revealing a reflective, hairless, tanned chest. Each one of his perfectly aligned teeth glimmered under the studio lighting in a fantastic beam of pleasure.

Yes. She was perfect.

His arms were outstretched, yet still couldn't reach far enough. The creases surrounding his bright eyes weren't deep enough. Nothing was enough compared to this amazing creature in front of him. She looked like a young, brunette and less explicit Brigitte Bardot. She was fabulous.

“Yes! You're gorgeous darling! Wider eyes, maybe? Love the hair!” he continued, to shout encouraging remarks at her. They were the type of thing he said to every budding model, but this was the first time he'd meant it.

This was the first time in his career when he felt like he'd achieved something amazing. He would make her his project, and ensure that she succeeded no matter what. It was one of those moments when everything just fell into place, and he felt incredibly passionate about it. He was certain that if he weren't in a relationship (and weren't gay) he would have fallen in love with her.

He loved the way her lips turned up at the end, and how the formal coating of deep, lustful red they were wearing enhanced the plumpness and blended splendidly against her flawless tanned skin, and complimented her ravishing eyes.

She'd been scouted in town the other day " so he'd heard. She'd called in pretty much the day after, and Antonio had been so excited after seeing her picture that he'd called her in for a shoot right away. He had a jungle piece coming up next week " his biggest directing job to date " and he needed her as his centre piece. He could imagine her in that fierce costume, fiery and bold, contrasting gorgeously with her innocent blue eyes, young skin and that sweet half-smile of hers.

Right now he'd put her in a long, deep blue beach dress made of really light material that flowed like water around her legs, helped out by the fan and his assistant who he kept ordering to faff around with it to position it exactly right for the photo. It had triangular cut-outs either side of her hips that pinched her waist in those extra few inches. He'd paired it with an attention seeking necklace that hung across her collar bone, the gold outline dazzling in the light and the blue feathers matching the intense customs of the dress.

But he'd saved the master piece for last.

In the dressing area upstairs, he'd been saving the perfect dress for someone who he felt inspiration with. This girl " Mia " was perfect. It was a 1920's flapper style dress with a modern twist, and it had been sitting disheartened in the wardrobe room for far too long now. He couldn't wait to get it out and, most importantly, onto her.

The backdrop would be a ballroom. Some big hall with a chandelier and a big shiny floor. Then she would be stood, looking almost sad, alone, in the middle of it. Lost. Lost and looking up in wonderment, as if waiting for the heart-throb. She would be stood in the perfect setting on the perfect night in the perfect dress, and would be awaiting the perfect man. Perfect.

The final photo would be in black-and-white, to really connect with the vintage/retro features of fashion. If it worked like he hoped it would, and came out like he could see it in his mind through his articulate vision, it would be amazing. He would even consider convincing his boss to offer it up to some advertising agencies, as he could just imagine it sitting in the pages of Elle with a MAC logo on the side. Things obviously didn't work quite like that, but maybe they'd make an exception when they saw her. She was breath-taking. Hauntingly beautiful. And he loved the way the black-and-white effect would make more shadows, as they would be important to represent how everyone has secrets. And her secret could be anything. You'd never know.

The dress was quite something. The designer was up-and-coming, but Antonio had fallen in love with his collection at first sight and had insisted his firm pay more attention to him. The flapper style dress had been the big idea, but a few more outfits had managed to wriggle their way onto the runway after that success. That designer was a genius. No " an artist.

After enthusiastically shouting 'take five', Antonio rushed upstairs to view his love once more. He pulled it from the wardrobe, stroking the fabric as he felt honoured to hold it in his hand.

The beauty of this dress was that it was decorated in very light shades of pearl and iridescent beads in an elaborate lace-type of pattern. The very soft colours of the pearl beading was set in flourishes and cameos that payed interesting homage to the intricate decorations of Victorian fashions. It was obvious that this particular beading pattern was the 1920s fashion interpretation of Battenberg lace, and that this dress was a remarkable piece for its very romantic lines and colouring - the fashion antithesis of the roaring 20s decade.

The pearls were set in such a way that they gave the foundation and appearance of lace, and then a darker fluorescence of beading had been used to provide shadow highlights and give the bead-lace definition when viewed from someone other than the wearer.

When viewed from a 2+ foot distance, the dress almost appeared to be made of chiffon - a testament to the skill of the dress' designer.

This dress was obviously made in a style very far removed from the hard angles and lines of the in-vogue art Deco fashions of that time period and had been constructed specifically to bring out the beauty, grace and femininity of the wearer. It was less about sparkle and glamour and more about reinstating a lost elegance to the age.

The construction of the dress attested to the care that was taken during its creation. The dress was comprised of two cuts of dusty rose fabric - a top sheath and a separate bottom section to create fullness at the hips and to flare the hemline. The seams at the joining of the top and bottom were sown together in a curve that matched the cut of the beaded design in the dress - making it obvious that the dress was not made as a simple polyester sheath and then beaded with a cookie-cutter pattern (which, unfortunately, was how many dresses were made in the period of the great industrial age in America - an age that translated into machine produced textiles that heralded a great productivity but took America away from individuality and workmanship). This was obviously created specifically for an individual with their personality and style in mind.

Antonio didn't find any breaks in the pearls or in the long bead work - it appeared the beading pattern was nearly intact in all places, including the cameo-like clusters at the neckline and waist.

He exhaled. It had survived, after so many weeks of collecting dust inside the wardrobe. And now it would get to be worn by the perfect model.

He could just see it.

He summoned Mia then ushered her into the changing area, calling for his assistant to wait outside, available to help with various assorted zips or buttons if needed.

The dress was on a simple company hanger, which somehow didn't seem worthy enough for its shining brilliance. He would find it a cover or something appropriate after today’s session.

After this shoot, he would have to get back to work on his jungle piece creation. He still had a few outfits to customise, and was yet to find a Tarzan which would be difficult at such short notice. The set would have to be outside, to show freedom, wildness, as if the animals were unleashing their true character to the public. Not afraid. And he still had to order more fur from the warehouse and hand-make the last of the leopard masks. The good thing about them was that they didn't have to be perfect because messy was the theme. Unfortunately, the makeup artist had cancelled last minute yesterday even though he'd booked her a month in advance, so her company were sending their best backup. He wasn't sure he could trust a backup with such a huge job, so he would have to keep an eye on her.

“Are you ready? Are you wearing it yet?” Antonio called through the draped curtains, selfishly hiding her away. Banishing her from sight. Keeping her to themselves. Forbidding him to reveal her.

He'd never been one for patience.

It was morning.

April and Gemma had gladly waved goodbye to Norah-The-Receptionist and checked out of the hotel, after a night of whispering untold secrets to each other from their separate beds.

They were now pulling the last of their cash together to pay a cab driver for dropping them off within a mile of the research lab.

There were stories about the lab. No one went there. Kids walked the long way home from school so as not to walk past it. People said there was nuclear activity there. People said there was radiation around it that would give you cancer. People said there were reasons why it had such high-tech security installed. People said they'd seen police check it out a number of times, but it had somehow escaped disclosure. People said the scientist needed help. People said he lived there because he had no where or no one to go home to.

This was all by word of their faithful cab driver, but the girls were trusting enough to believe his fear wasn't fantasy. Rumours don't spark from nothing.

April, having heard this, was slightly afraid of what she might find at the lab. She'd heard such horror stories of torture and illegal acts that went on behind those gates and that automated voice.

Gemma, on the other hand, was even more excited. It was beginning to sound like a proper adventure; like something someone would write a book about.

“Cheers,” the cabbie nodded as they handed him a generous tip " not only for his driving but his knowledge in addition. The clones tumbled out of the taxi, completely unaware of what they would be tumbling into.

As they neared the gates, that were all metal with no gaps to peer through, April began to shake. Gemma steadied her, and ensured that all the stories would be exaggerations.

It was Gemma who'd been the one to eventually press a finger against the cold entrance button, presumptuously the preferred route to enter.

The gates were big silver slabs that appeared to have been designed to keep people out as opposed to letting people in. The camera arched above them warned them that they could be watched. The entrance button wasn't big or inviting, but ordinary and plain like one on the lift of an office building. Everything seemed to be square, grey and modern. All the surfaces were either smooth or grid-like. There was a yellow warning triangle that seemed to be the most colourful and attractive aspect of the building's exterior. Gemma, having never payed attention in science, was unsure of what this particular symbol was warning her about.

An unsurprisingly grey, square yet modern computer screen jumped into life a few seconds after the button had been pressed. The promised automated voice crept up on them: “How may I assist you?”

The screen then flashed, indicating it required the user to touch the appropriate response. The options available were: 'I have an appointment', 'I wish to make an appointment', 'I wish to speak with the manager', 'I am an emergency service (will require confirmation)' and 'Return to home'.

Gemma's finger circled over the options as she deliberated the category they would fit under. If they made an appointment it could end up landing any distance of time away, and they couldn't stay for long. If they spoke with the manager he would probably turn them away. They weren't an emergency service. And they wanted anything but to return home, in a more literal sense.

The fingertip eventually landed upon the 'I am an emergency service' option.

“What are you doing?” April cried. “We have no confirmation! We can't just lie this time, Gemma!”

“Relax!” Gemma exclaimed, unnerved by her companion's outcries. “It says 'will require confirmation'. Do you know what that will be? That will mean visual. That will mean some buzzer or alarm or s**t will go off inside, and someone will have to check the camera. See it? Up there? And if they see us, we're in. If they speak to us, we're in. Either way, we just need to get noticed. Then they'll know who we are. They'll see who we are. Then they'll let us in. Promise.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Gemma,” April warned, but she agreed to the plan, stupid as it was. At least she would have someone to blame if they got turned down.

“Please hold,” spoke the automated voice, interrupting them.

Almost immediately after, a man's face popped onto the screen, like they were Skype calling each other. He had long hair that slicked around his face, seemingly wet but more likely grease coated due to the lack of shower facilities in the lab. He wore round glasses, in keeping with the typical image of a scientist, which he promptly pushed up to the top of his nose.

He seemed intrigued. Scientific curiosity getting the better of him once more, Gemma mused.

His eyes widened with disbelief when he saw the two figures standing in front of the webcam-like device attached to the computer screen on the metal gate " a security system worth every penny. No intruders in years.

“Emergency services?” he questioned, more confused than Gemma had imagined a smart man would be. She took a step forward and began to explain herself.

“Sorry about that. We're not emergency services at all. We just needed a chance to speak to someone. We were hoping you'd know who we are, because we're kind of at a loss. We've found our way here, but we've not found any answers so far. If you can help us at all, please, let us in. If not, sorry for wasting your time.”

Silence.

Xavier leaned in closer to the camera. He ordered both girls to come closer so he could see them properly.

“Is this for real?” he asked, as he looked from one girl to the other, seeing no difference.

“Yep,” Gemma replied, casually.

The connection broke, and the clones found themselves staring into a blank computer screen.

All that followed was a satisfying beep, then the sliding of heavy components as the gates began to swing slowly open in a mechanical fashion.

April, the more hesitant of the two, waited until the gates were firmly open and stationary, allowing herself to get a good look at the building she was yet to enter, before wondering inside like a deer to a hunting ground. Whereas, Gemma had already started to skip up the unmarked concrete beneath her red boots, heading towards the glass doors.

April followed tentatively.

From the outside, the building appeared to be in good condition. It was well-kept, she noticed, as the glass doors like those outside a doctors surgery glimmered before her eyes.

A whirring from behind made her jump. She turned around to see the gates, now a good few feet behind her begin to shut again. She felt the raging urge to run away, and squeeze through the gap that was getting smaller and smaller and smaller...

Then it was too late. The final clunk of the components connecting back together into their preferred positions " together " subsequently locking anyone out (or as April now noticed, locking them in) echoed around the space which reminded April somewhat of an empty playground. The building was small compared to the space around it. It was just in the middle of a big, grey square of concrete. There were a few trees that looked artificial but probably weren't dotted around, growing from beneath the concrete. They were odd distances apart, like they had been specifically aligned to arrange themselves into some sort of pattern. Nearly all were just in the middle, excluding one, which was near the gate they'd arrived from.

If she were much more unfit, she would have been out of breath by the time she'd reached the door.

The man they'd talked to on the computer screen greeted them as they arrived.

He resembled a lizard, April noticed, as he extended a bony, jerky arm belonging to his sweaty palm, and licked his lips. His whole presence seemed slimy, like he'd lived between two chips in a greasy take-out family sized portion his entire life.

Both girls forced themselves to graciously accept his polite offer of a handshake, however off-putting.

“Welcome,” he said, excitedly as he waved their hands up and down like someone on a caffeine high. “I'm Xavier, spelt with an X,” he gushed in the vocal equivalent of a drum role, as if expecting them to recognise him like old University room-mates would. “Pronounced like saviour.”

“April,” she spoke in turn, after Gemma had introduced herself.

“Oh " I know who you are. I can't believe you came here!” Xavier squealed. “I've waited so long; unsure that you would ever return to me. My babies. You know, the last time I saw you, you were both about this high!” he said, affectionately gesturing a height with his hands. April laughed as it seemed appropriate given the situation.

“One thing before I show you around though,” Xavier began, suddenly not smiling at all. “You came alone, didn't you? No parents?”

“Yeah,” Gemma replied.

“Oh, jolly good. I just needed to make sure.”

“Why?” April asked, sensing she'd touched upon a sensitive area. A brief silence ensued.

“Lets just say...” Xavier assured them, “that your parents and I aren't exactly on talking terms. They wouldn't want me to see you. They didn't want anything to do with me after I saved you. I wanted to see you so badly, and to care for you, and to be the uncle you needed. But they wanted you to be kept in the dark about the whole situation, which meant I was out of the picture. What could I do? So, regretfully, I left you two alone. Even though you were so close to my heart. But now you're here, so everything is fine now.”

April and Gemma looked at each other and smiled. It was nice hearing that someone had always been caring about them all these years.

“Come on,” Xavier said, whilst hurrying them along. “I'll show you all my work.”

He lead his clones through countless corridors, which seemed to be forever repeating themselves, making them seemingly impossible to ever know your way around.

Occasionally they would pass a closed door " teal in colour " with a number or code on the front. They eventually reached the one they assumed Xavier had been looking for.

The door opened after many turns of many keys, to reveal millions of pounds worth of equipment unlike either girl had ever seen before.

First on the desk was some sort of microscope, but on a much larger scale than the ones purchased from a universal catalogue at McKinley High. It was white and new, with the details in black. Underneath lay a clear glass slide: empty. It was connected to a computer screen that had a zoom percentage icon.

April and Gemma stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of the boundaries they were limited to. Could they enter? Could they wonder around? Could they touch? Could they use?

These were established when Xavier ushered them inside, allowing their lines of sight to travel to the large ornament in the middle of the room. It appeared to be a cross between a sink, bowl or small swimming pool, but without the rounded edges. All the internal walls of the abstract apparatus were mirrors, and there was a still surface of water resting upon them. Above the mirrored sink was some sort of glass screen that seemed to be floating, unattached to anything, about a metre apart from the walls of the sink.

Xavier stood in front of them like a professor talking to the students who'd bothered to attend his lecture.

“Here is an experiment I've been working on for a while. Wait until I turn it on!,” he laughed.

When he did so, the water remained perfectly still, but in the air gap between the sink and the glass sheet, an electric current began to form. All sorts of multicoloured sparks formed in vertical lines between the space. April involuntarily said 'wow'. This was the closest she'd ever been to a firework display.

“Cool huh?” Xavier said, obviously enthusiastic and unusually engrossed in his work. “So what's going on here is...”

At this point, Gemma zoned out, as it was beginning to sound like a science lesson. She was more the arty type herself. But, she didn't complain as she watched April listen intently. However, even as a Team Anti-science member, Gemma had to admit the effect was pretty cool.

“Shall we move on?” Xavier suggested.

Gemma was the first out as they regathered in the corridor. The numbers on the doors all followed the sequence of one after the other. They shuffled in unison a few doors down, after the other had been safely locked away.

“Now, in here is my one and only Chemistry laboratory. Not much of a fan of the subject myself, but any scientist needs to know the basics of all three. Sometimes the chemicals and reactions are needed for the components of my other experiments.” Xavier explained.

Once again, the teal door swung open. Gemma, no longer afraid of over stepping boundaries, wondered straight in.

In this room there were more shelves. Everything was a little less ordered and a little more lived in, like someone had been rummaging around for something quite recently. Various test tubes and substances of all colours and consistencies were displayed on these shelves, seemingly in no particular order. Each exotically named mixture in each cylindrical bottle matched the kind you see in cartoons. The floor was designed in some sort of tiled honey-comb, creating a matrix of vertex and individuality.

Xavier began yet another five minute rant about what-reacts-with-what-and-why, before leading them back out to the corridor for the final time.

It was then that Gemma noticed something strange.

“What's in that room?” she pried.

“Oh, just another experiment I've been working on. I'd show you, but I'm afraid it's not quite safe. Without the right protection, human interference could damage it. And your own health would be at risk.”

Gemma lingered before trotting behind the other two, who had already moved on. Something bothered her about that door. Unlike all the other doors that had followed a sequence of 203, 204, 205 etc., this door had stood out, reading a completely number. Not only that, but it had additional locks and a computer screen on the wall next to it.

The silver number on the door had read 5650.

The block lettering of each letter stayed in her mind, even after they'd followed Xavier into another room: some sort of living environment. Not a laboratory and not quite a living room, but the unusual combination of equipment and sofas made it something in between.

“So,” he was now saying. “Lets get down to the business side of things. I need to know how much you girls know, so that I can tell you the rest of the story. Obviously we can't get through it all today, so I'll find you a room to stay in and we can sort it out tomorrow. For now, there's something I need to discuss with you.” At this point, he held back.

“Go on?” April encouraged.

“As you know, you're very special girls. You're clones. It took very complicated science to make you what you are. Though hard at times, that transformation saved you both. But it was hard work. And even I'm still a little confused about it. The only way we can get some more answers between us is to try to find out more " together. Imagine how many people we could save!”

At this point, Gemma began to listen.

“Cut to the point,” she said briskly, seeing some devious plot behind his words.

“All I'm asking is to do a few little tests. We can get them over with tomorrow, and I'll let you know your rights and everything too. No one will get hurt. No permanent effects. Purely for research. You've seen my stuff " I know what I'm doing. I just need your permission. I can't force you to do anything, but it would really help me out if I had your cooperation. You say the word and we stop. I'll just literally need a few samples like a hair, a fingerprint and a drop of blood. What do you reckon?”

“I'm not sure...” April began, being her usual hesitant self. Her inability to make decisions, though frequently quick to hold her back, was sensible this time. “Is that legal? Don't you need permission from our parents or something?”

“I would,” he explained. “I would if I were asking you formally. If this were a formal procedure, there would be documents, signatures and all kinds of unnecessary actions taken to ensure you're not at any risk. But, that's a waste of time. I could just tell you you're not at any risk and you could just believe me. If you're not comfortable with that, that's fine. But just remember, I'm not asking you formally, like you're strangers to me. I'm asking you for a favour as your Uncle. I may even go as far as to say Father. Scientific Father. I made you. You're family to me, April. And you, Gemma. We're all a family.”

This was somehow comforting to know. It put things in a different light.

Gemma " who'd been silent for the duration of the conversation " now spoke.

“So what's in it for us?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Xavier replied, simply. “But there's nothing in it for me either. I wouldn't be doing it for personal gain. I'm doing it for others. I'm interested in finding cures for diseases. Why? Because I'm a good guy with a brain. All the experiments you've seen today " believe it or not " will have some relation to that overall aspiration of mine. So I'm afraid there'd be nothing in it for either of you, except maybe more knowledge on your 'condition' and the satisfying feeling of knowing you helped save maybe thousands of lives.”

“And why should we trust you?” Gemma said, speaking for both herself and April.

“You're quite right " you don't have a reason to. But, you don't have a reason not to either. By all means, go home and come back with a parent's signature if that would put you at ease. Personally I don't see the point, but if it would make you feel better...”

“No, it's okay. We'll do it.”

“Really? Oh, you have no idea how helpful you're being. Now, I'm afraid I have to get back to work, but I'll find my girls a room first so you can settle in. We'll begin first thing tomorrow morning and you'll be free to leave by the afternoon.”

“Great,” April said, meaning it.

It felt like a long time since anyone had told her she'd be free to leave.

Nine-nine-nine.

Blake was on the phone to them right now.

April hadn't come home like Mary had wished with all her heart. She'd been avoiding calling the police until now for that reason (she hoped she wouldn't have had to) and for another: she secretly feared they would bring the other child home. The other clone. The one who'd been re-adopted.

But, April had now been missing for a full twenty-four hours, which was already far later than they should have called in.

She wondered where April would have gone. She didn't have any friends, so she couldn't be at anyone else's house. She didn't have any clue about her past, so she wouldn't be out chasing answers.

Mary hadn't exactly raised April how she'd wanted to " like a normal child " but she'd never thought April had been so unhappy as to run away.

She bit her nails and paced the room as Blake spoke to the officer, offering details like their address and saying 'yes' every so often.

The awful thing was that she hadn't been missing April. That girl was her whole life, so it had been nice to have a night where she had no life to worry about. She'd slept for the first time in too long. She'd been able to clear her mind, and push some of the memories about Rebecca away for good.

But now she was beginning to feel withdrawal symptoms. Suddenly it seemed like she was dead. Having no life, no one to worry about had seemed an easy way out at first, but now she was starting to feel hollow and unwanted. She was starting to feel like an empty ribcage; wondering around and looking for something to protect. Having the strength and the stability to protect something so precious " the heart " but it be missing. It was maddening.

Blake hung up.

“They're on their way,” he informed her, in a feeble attempt to calm her.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that they would never get there fast enough. April would only ever be home if she wanted to come home. If not, they wouldn't be able to find her. If not...

April would be gone.

Jake checked his email. This was a routine by now. He would log on, scroll down through the spam, then log out. However, this time, something caught his eye.

He spent all night reading this email, at the expense of revising for his maths mock tomorrow. He read it over and over and over until his eyes began to water from the screen, and until the words began to stop looking like words and began to form some sort of puzzle instead of looking like words like they were supposed to.

Hey, Jake. Just a quick note to tell you that I found your first ever Arctic Monkeys CD amongst all mine. Thought I'd let you know in case you wanted me to drop it off sometime or something. Know how much you love your music. Remember when we listened to it driving down to the caravan together? Anyway, have to go, but speak soon. Hope school's going OK. Dad.

Of course he remembered. He remembered every last bit. The CD had been new out at the time. They'd listened to I Bet That You Look Good on the Dance Floor twice because they'd both agreed it was the best on the album. His dad had smoked and dropped his cigarette out the car window when finished, and Jake had watched it fall past the elbow that was hanging from the window frame and onto the road. They'd been driving in the shiny new Porsche. It had a convertible roof and you could connect your iPod to the sound system. Jake had thought that had been the coolest thing ever at the time.

He'd also been young " a kid of only just 8 years " and had needed the loo. They'd stopped at a service station and got a burger each. Jake had made a fuss because his had come with lettuce in even though he'd specifically requested it without.

His dad had let him wear his leather jacket for the rest of the journey. Though it had drowned him at the time, Jake had felt like Superman. Invincible. Cool. A hero.

He remembered how the leather sleeves had flopped over the ends of his arms. He remembered feeling warm for the first time that journey. He remembered singing along: 'like a robot from 1984, robot from 1984...' as the song had come to an end.

He remembered vividly how he'd watched his dad " his role model " sort everything out so easily. When the song finished, he would simply press the arrow key on the car, and the song would play again. Problem solved.

But he also remembered his dad a different way. He remembered watching his dad " his role model " drive away in that same Porsche with the window rolled down and an elbow hanging out the side. He remembered the pain of knowing that his dad " his role model " had chosen to leave him and his mum.

Years later after those memories and all he had left was a leather jacket that was still a little too big for him.

And now this email.

Jake read it to himself once more. Then another time aloud, in the hope that it would make more sense that way. It didn't.

Why had his dad suddenly contacted him? And why so distant? Was Jake supposed to reply? What was he supposed to say?

Jake closed his eyes and lay back in his bed. His mum wouldn't be home until 2ish. He wouldn't tell her about the email. It would only upset her. But he would reply.

He tried to think of what to say as his head sunk deeper into his pillow. Then, unwillingly, he fell asleep before he could stop himself.

“Night,” Gemma said to April, even though she'd gotten the impression that April was already asleep. They'd been whispering for a while in their room that Xavier had given them. It was a bit of a weird room, and Gemma felt a bit out of place in it.

The floor was made up of more of the shiny white honey-comb tiles. It was completely empty apart from the two beds on opposite walls, which had grey sheets that weren't particularly comfortable to lie in. The walls were plain, like milk without the chocolate powder. Meek. Bleak. Bland.

But the strangest thing of all: there were no windows. When Gemma had switched off the ceiling lights, they had been faced with complete darkness, which in all honesty, Gemma had never seen before. Used to the comforting sliver of light that always managed to creep between the few gaps in her curtains or underneath the door, she'd never had to sleep in utter black fog.

And she hated it.

While April seemed more at home than usual, Gemma was finding it harder to fit in. She'd always thought she was the type of person who would prefer the dark: light exposed secrets and revealed things that people weren't supposed to know. But, now she was experiencing it, she hated it.

She supposed that you'd never know you were afraid of something if you'd never seen it before.

She found herself longing to escape. She had to get out of this darkness that was now suffocating her. It was getting inside her and she wanted it out.

She slipped through the door " somewhat surprised that they hadn't been locked in " and felt relieved to be out in the corridor once again. Despite her sneaky suspicion that she would be being somehow monitored, she couldn't help but have a look around.

One corridor was a dead end. She'd cursed under her breath then turned around. Another corridor consisted entirely of a right angled maze, which wasn't helpful at all.

Finally.

The numbers '5650' marked the teal door she'd been searching for.

She traced each number with her finger, then subconsciously stroked the plastic surface hiding what was behind it. She then ran her finger along the edge of the door, feeling the slight gap followed by the indentation of the metallic lock. It reminded her of the lockers at McKinley. She could hack those easily.

She wondered...

Her hands reached into her pocket and pulled out the fake student card she'd used as ID to get past Norah-The-Receptionist's careful treading.

Before she knew what she was doing, the credit-like card was being slotted into the gap down one edge of the door. She'd broken into lockers like this all the time at her school.

It shouldn't have worked. However, she heard a click, and unbelievably, the door fell slightly ajar.

Gemma held her breath, unsure of what to expect. What had he said about this room? Something about human interference?

She kept waiting for the alarm as she pressed a toe into the room.

Nothing.

She pushed the door open the rest of the way in one quick flick of her hand. She stepped inside the room, still holding her breath in order to not inhale any harmful chemicals that may or may not be in the air. When she saw it, she exhaled.

There was a table. It was glass; clear like the sheet that had been above the water. On it rested 4 metal bars, each one perfectly smooth and round, and arching from the table like a CD from its case.

Inside the 4 bars, completely still, lay a girl.

Gemma retreated in horror, then forced herself to continue through the scurrilous nightmare. If she left now, she would be forever wondering 'what if' for the rest of her life. She had to be brave.

The girl had her eyes shut. She was beautiful.

She was wearing some sort of silver leotard which tightly covered every inch of skin from her ankles to her wrists to her neck. Gemma could see how fragile she was; her legs were like twigs. The fabric tightened around the girl's waist, creasing slightly at her belly button. It rose up again at the girl's chest, which was a cloud with a silver lining.

Then came the girl's face. She had such pale skin, yet such dark eyes. Gemma could tell that even though they were shut. There was no colour in her face at all " no flushed cheeks or pink lips. It was like looking at a black-and-white photo, when everything else was in colour. It seemed odd. Unnatural.

The girl in the bars had no hair. Her bald scalp was blinding; exposing her beautiful skull with rose petal skin that wrapped around her head.

She also had scars on her forehead. Perfectly square yet somewhat decrepit scars. Like they'd been cut that way on purpose...

Flick!

The girl's eyes opened. They were a deep green colour, like pools of green water colour mixed with some tangents of blue. It was in that second, when the two girls looked at each other, that Gemma noticed.

That girl was one of them.

She had the same green eyes both herself and April had. This girl was another clone. Was this what Xavier was planning to do to her?

“Who are you?” the girl whispered.

“Gemma,” she replied through a breath.

“Get out, Gemma,” the girl " 5650 " warned.

“Why? Did Xavier do this to you?” Gemma pleaded. The girl shook microscopically at the mention of his name.

“He's mad, Gemma. He's mad. He will do horrible things to you, Gemma. He will test on you. And he will make you sleep. But that's okay because then you can dream of beautiful pianos, Gemma. But sometimes the sleep doesn't come. So get out, Gemma.”

The girl hadn't blinked once as she'd said those words. She hadn't looked at Gemma either. She'd spoken like she were under a curse, like some enchanted siren in a Greek myth. Hypnotised. She'd been looking in Gemma's direction, but not at her. Past her. Through her. Her words had sounded rehearsed, like she wasn't speaking naturally.

“Get out, Gemma,” the mysterious girl repeated.

“What has he done to you?” Gemma whispered, feeling her eyes begin to water. It was heartbreaking seeing her, so trapped, so cold, so frightened. And it could so easily have been her...

“Get out, Gemma. While he's still playing you. While he's still fooling you. These bars don't let you out. They keep you so you don’t run away. He doesn't like runaways. Get out now, Gemma.”

Gemma heard a noise from outside, in the corridor. It wasn't footsteps, but it was enough to frighten her, and hurry her along.

“Okay, I'll get out,” she agreed. “Before it's too late. But, I promise I'll come back for you, 5650. I'll get you out. I'll come back for you, and I'll get you out of these horrid bars. Okay? You just wait. Just wait a little bit longer, then you'll be free. Right now I have to get out. But, 5650, I'll come back for you. I promise.”

Gemma felt a tug on her heart strings as she promised, like a harp player had began to play a fierce tune inside her, and was plucking all her internal chords. The song sounded like April. The song was April's bitter voice.

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Gemma.”

She shook it off. She stroked the girl's forehead one last time, before she turned away. She shut the door behind her, hearing the lock click back into place like it had never been touched, which comforted Gemma because she could pretend for a second that she'd never seen what she just had.

She stood outside the door in the looming corridors for a moment, thinking about what was on the other side.

She really hoped it would be her freeing the girl, as promised, instead of Damocles' sword when Xavier would hover around his victim with sheers for the more delicate jobs and pliers for the rest, not only to cut the fine thread holding her life up like a puppet on strings, but to cut up the remainder of the girl beneath it too.

She'd always been one to follow her instincts, but her instincts were hardly ever right. She could so easily just get back into her square, grey bed and pretend she'd never wandered off. But that would be wrong, and she knew that they were in danger.

After having had a moment to herself, Gemma began to sprint back up the corridors. She burst into her and April's assigned room. She started to shake April, forcing her into consciousness.

“April!” Gemma cried. “April, wake up!”
April did as commanded.

“What?” she said, startled yet still sleepily.

“We're leaving. Pack your things,” Gemma commanded.

“Now? What? Why?” April questioned, confused.

“I'll explain later. This is urgent. Pack. Now.”

April began stuffing her few belongings into her satchel, rubbing her eyes lazily as she did so. Under normal circumstances she would have protested, but the pleading in Gemma's voice had warned her that this was not a normal circumstance.

As Gemma had done the previous hour, the girls slipped through the door and shut it behind them. Leaving behind the darkness.

In 5650's words " getting out.

They navigated through the corridor maze, which was easier than it had been previously because Gemma had managed to remember a few of the door codes of the correct route which lead them in the general direction. They found their way back to the corridor with 5650's room, and the other experiments that they'd been shown when walking past it with Xavier. They passed the Chemistry room and the room with the mirrored sink. They passed all the sights they'd seen before but were now seeing under a different light " complete darkness. Everything seemed dark, and Gemma remembered why it had all seemed so evil back in the room again. What is hidden can often be more scary than what is exposed, she concluded, after tonight's events.

She'd never been more pleased to see a glass door. It seemed to get further and further away with every step closer she took, but she knew that was just her tired mind playing cruel tricks on her esteem. It was just an illusion, like the whole place had been. The seemingly tiny building had at least doubled in size when she'd gone inside. It was like a magician's trick " turning a tent into a mansion when you enter.

After aggressively pushing the pull-handle door and swearing loudly to compensate for her mistake, she managed to grasp the bar and get them out of the building that would haunt her, probably forever.

She ran across the concrete courtyard feeling like a child running around a school field. Except she wasn't free yet.

She became aware of the sensation that she was alone, which was a bad sign. She turned to discover April was lagging behind. Gemma resolved the situation by forcefully grabbing April's arm and dragging her along the rest of the way.

The gates became taller the closer they got, until they towered over them, swearing them up. They dwarfed the two girls, and stood with folded arms. They were bouncers in a club, refusing them further entry " or in their case " exit.

Gemma's ears tuned into the disconcerting sound of an alarm ringing in the distance. Somehow, they must have triggered one of the security systems. She could hear the faint whining of it, constantly bleating to notify someone about the occurrence of an intruder passing. Their surreptitious movements must have failed them.

She panicked. How could they get out? How would they have time?

Her solicitous concerns were ignited from flickers to full flames when she saw the slimy man who called himself a Saviour with an X fleeing from the building's now familiar glass doors. He seemed tiny from afar but she knew the consequences of him reaching them would not be equally as small.

It was then " between the madness and chaos snapping at her ankles " that a metaphorical light bulb pinged from her head. The one tree that stood alone near the gate had a single branch that stretched out just far enough to lean over the edge of the gate. Helping each other, it would be just manageable to climb the tree and to travel tight-rope-style across to the gate, then lower themselves from there.

“Quick!” Gemma shouted to April between silent air punches, who seemed to have morphed into a useless state of acting as a blank avatar " a Sim when given no instruction so simply left to stand on the spot, motionless and unaware of any changes to her surroundings.

She managed, with some effort, to haul her friend up the trunk of the oak. April continued on default setting, using her petite figure to her advantage to swing around the branches and navigate to the appropriate side of the tree.

Gemma followed closely behind her. Xavier was close to them, looking like some sort of circus act. His arms were flailing wickedly in the air, and he had a face like the distraught drama mask widely known in the theatre world.

She could, by now, hear him shouting after them. He was closer than she'd hoped.

Gemma pressed a cautious foot upon the first branch, and heaved herself level with it. She repeated this action a few more times, being careful not to lose her footing.

“Ahh!” she screamed, as she felt a force pulling her back. Xavier had slipped his sluggish fingers around her shoe, clawing against the sole of her famous red Doc Martins with his yellow stained fingernails. He was trying to make her fall.

She steadied herself and wrapped her arms around what she'd tried-and-tested to be a sturdy enough branch to hold her weight. She hugged it close to her chest, hanging like a monkey from it as she used all her strength to raise her body in order to lift her other leg. This way, she could use her corresponding foot to kick the boot off.

Skilfully, she managed to curl her toes around the black label, and release her foot from its armour. The shoe fell to the ground in her place, leaving Xavier with no more than a souvenir to remember who used to wear it.

She kicked the other shoe off to match, then continued to climb higher, now more confident and less afraid that Xavier could reach her. After rotating numerous times to find the best angle, she managed to get into a high enough position to be safe and to watch April as she tip-toed across the longest branch to the top of the gate.

She watched April steady herself, and hold onto the untrustworthy twig above her head for as long as possible before finally letting go.

And then, she watched April disappear as she hopped lightly from the top of the gate.

Gemma's turn.

Xavier was still calling out to her. He knew how to hit home; words like 'family' and 'partners' really slowed her down. “What did I do to deserve this?” and “I could have told you all the answers you were looking for!” were the careless phrases that dripped lifelessly from his slivering lips. He'd also attempted shaking the tree like the big kids used to do to the climbing frame, and he'd tried pulling the bark from the trunk for reasons Gemma couldn't even imagine. Gemma couldn't afford to think about things like that right now: she needed to focus.

Music always calmed her down, so she decided to block Xavier's deceitful propaganda methods of sickening persuasion out by singing her favourite song to herself " Heroes by David Bowie.

She closed her eyes and imagined that she was the hero. She could make it if she really wanted to.

We can beat them, forever and ever. Oh we can be heroes, just for one day.

As April had done, Gemma first balanced herself. It was hard even without her heavy boots pulling her in different directions. Once she had distributed her weight evenly to hold herself up, she took a step forward. The branch held, though it cracked under the pressure.

It only occurred to Gemma then " between all the events that had coincided together " quite how skinny April really was. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Her mind flashed back to all the times over the last few weeks that April had said 'no thanks, I'm not hungry'. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen April eat anything. How had she not noticed before, when it was so blindingly obvious now? Having watched April hop so delicately over this branch, and Gemma struggle to do the same being a healthy weight herself, she felt sickened by the fact that only now she'd noticed how weightless April's movements actually were.

But that would have to wait.

With one final trip, Gemma was over. She'd managed to scramble across the branch whilst her mind had been preoccupied; distracted from the disastrous sight of Xavier below.

She was now glad that the gates were thick and square " it made them much easier to stand on. However, the height of them " especially without shoes " made the fall down all the more dangerous; if she landed at the wrong angle her cheek could easily end up shaking hands with a hard concrete slap.

She replayed how April had simply lowered herself. Gemma had been about to mimic her friend's elegant movements when she'd felt a jolt almost tripping her backwards.

Xavier had managed to get his gates open. They were moving backwards now: ready to unleash him. Soon he would be slipping through the gap...

Though the gates opened incredibly slowly, she would still have to jump now or never if she were to get past him quick enough.

She let herself fall. A crunching pain formed in her ankle as she twisted it out of place against the stubborn pavement, but she pushed the pain aside and ran. April had been waiting for her around the corner. They ran side by side, not daring to look back to see how far in front they were. They ran until their lungs burnt like Roman candles in the night. They ran until their hearts were about to break free from their chests as a result of pounding too hard. They ran until the stitches woven between their organs screeched and squeezed to the point of forcing them to run bent over, hunched like beggars on the street.

Only did they stop when they could run no more before dying of either thirst or exhaustion. They found themselves in a desolate area; the only sign of life being stairs leading to a one-town station " a well earned break from the dusky winding roads that had been chasing them for some time.

After ensuring that they'd lost their attacker, they rested upon the steps.

Neither girl spoke for several minutes, simply enjoying the calmness that always follows a storm. Both had to refill their lungs with sacred oxygen and tend to their sore limbs before attempting socialisation.

Gemma in particular had a nasty gash on her ankle. Bruises were already beginning to show, and she was sure it had twisted to an impossible angle that seemed overly disconnected from the other bones around it. Every time it became pressured, shoots of pain would glide up her body, getting comfortable inside of her.

At last, April broke the silence: “So, are you going to tell me what that was all about, or are we going to sit here for a little longer pretending that we didn't just limply run like maniacs from a research laboratory, climb a tree then sprint from our carer until point of collapsing. Because I'm not up for that, so let me know now so I have time to get used to being mad at you.”

“I'm sorry...” Gemma began. April's eyes thinned, as if to show she was utterly at a loss. “But I still can't tell you. I want to, but I can't bring myself to. I can't describe it. I wouldn't want you to know. Just give me a little while.”

“You know that I trust you, Gemma.” April sighed. “And if it were anyone else I would tell them they were asking far too much of me to just forget about it. But, because you're my bestfriend, I seem to have an unbearable soft spot for you, Miss Gemma-234. So I'll take your word for it " for now " but you have to know that you can tell me anything. We're a team. Together. Other people may come and go, but you and me? We're tied together by " not exactly string " but something more unusual and scary like barbed wire because that's just our way. Unusual and scary things seem to have a knack for finding us,” she laughed. Her laugh was more like blowing more air through her nose than usual instead of an actual laugh, because she was tired and nothing seemed that funny any more.

“Come on,” Gemma said, standing up and offering her hand to April to hold, a gesture to show her agreement. “The big day is drawing closer, so I don't want to waste any more of my days wallowing in the slums of bestfriendhood, lumbering for answers that we both know were much closer to home to begin with anyway.

In all honesty, April hadn't thought about what would happen to her when she turned 16. As Gemma had said " the big day was drawing closer now. Winter had worn away, and June crept closer to the front of the calendars every second...

But everything could wait until she was home.

After trailing up what seemed like an infinite number of stairs, April was finally able to check the board for train times. Conveniently, like the fact that they'd found their way to the station, there was a train to their town centre. However, it wasn't until 10:34 in the morning, then it would be a long journey, so they wouldn't make it home until past lunch time.

April broke this news to Gemma lightly, purely because she didn't have the energy to present it any other way. It had felt good looking at a timetable bursting with organisation that she could follow and work her way around after a physically draining night of being confused and completely at a loss.

“Guess we've got some time to kill then.”

“Guess so,” April supposed, sitting next to Gemma. “You know, if Xavier really is as bad as you make him out to be, and we really were in danger, you were kind of a hero today. Finding it out, warning me, getting us out of there. Thanks.”

“Trust me,” Gemma said. She allowed herself to think about that girl's cold face once more, and the promise she made. “I'm no hero.”

“Could you just shut your eyes for me a second?” the makeup artist requested. Mia did so obediently.

She was at the fashion show in town. The theme: wild. Her director, Antonio, had put together a literal piece to represent their firm with all the models dressed up as wild cats, with masks and fur coats and leopard print leotards " known as the 'leopotards' to the firm " the works.

Mia herself was a tiger. She had on a costly pair of leather leggings, paired with a black corset that crushed her ribs as she'd stupidly held her breath when it had been tied. She hadn't exhaled since. Above this she wore a jacket made of weird netted material that had huge tiger striped feathers leaping from the shoulder pads. This would be put with a pair of stonking heels that she was yet to put on, as she was afraid the 2-inch platforms (decorated appropriately with tiger stripes) would slow her down a little. The outfit was definitely extreme, or should she say wild?

But the makeup that she was having done now would add to the effect. The artist had began with a gold base-coat on the eye lids, then shaded some more orange around the corners. She'd then outlined the eyes perfectly in black, extending the line a little onto the middle of her nose like a big cat's. She'd then pencilled in perfectionist's stripes, copying the pattern printed upon the skin of a tiger with a level of precision similar to that when threading a needle.

The hair dresser had already finished on her: back combed, messy and, well, wild.

So that was about it; all she would have to do would be to 'stand there are look gorgeous' in Antonio's words, which she was more than fine with.

Jake was coming along around 1ish to come and see her, and take some photos for her Facebook profile. It wasn't the usual kind of fashion show with a runway and models marching determinedly up and down it preying to God they don't trip over. It was an annual thing held by one of the designer shops nearby " this year sponsored by Extra's gum. It was kind of like a charity event, except each firm was trying to raise money for themselves, like The Beautiful People Foundation for People Who Want To Be Both Rich And Beautiful. Please donate!

And it was also a bit like a competition. No actual winner would ever be announced, but between businesses, someone's display would be the most popular. It was a chance to get noticed, if nothing else. Talent Scouters and bigger agencies often came along to scan for models with potential.

“Okay, you're all done.” Mia, having heard this, hopped off the chair and slipped on her challenging shoes to practise walking up and down in them a few times. “Next?” she heard the makeup artist yell, as yet another wild cat landed herself upon the chair's cushioned fabric.

She started at how her toes peeped as intended from her peep-toe sandals as she wobbled around, then suddenly felt a presence behind her.

“Hey,” a deep voice spoke.

Her heart jolted, and prickles rose from the back of her shoulders. Oh God, she thought, as her mind flicked back to that night when she'd been cornered under the staircase, and Damon's deep, dark eyes that had pinned themselves to her like she was Red and he was the Big Bad Wolf; his hunger and desire threateningly overpowering as he advanced. She remembered his intense stare, paired with his serious expression and unspeakable intentions squashing her like no more than an ant beneath a trainer to a height approximately three inches tall. She'd never felt so much like an object before: so powerless, vulnerable and easy to abuse. Such an easy target...

She turned around slowly, her mind playing Jenga with blocks of solid tension, more so than socially acceptable. Then, as she saw the voice's owner, you could see the tower collapse, the tension literally fleeing from her structure which had previously been pulled tightly together like a firm knot, and not just because of the corset.

She couldn't remember his name, but his face was familiar. Not in a Damon-Albarn way " who's name still sent shivers rapidly pulsating down her spine like the heartbeat of a tiny animal " but in a friendly way.

As if reading her mind, the boy cleared his throat and reminded her.

“It's, erm, Nick.” He paused. “From the party.”

Her mind, as if by orders of a remote control, clicked into action. She had a sudden flashback of dancing between Nick and some other guy before she'd wriggled free from the main room.

He seemed like a different person with his shirt on and his senses back.

His actions were more jerky, and he presented himself in a less outgoing, spontaneous, confident yet careless fashion and more timid, embarrassed; afraid of overstepping boundaries. He came across as the type of person who would know a lot, but keep to himself. Private. Whereas, at the party, Mia had gotten the opposite impression. Maybe he just felt kind of awkward at a fashion show " she couldn't imagine why he was here.

“Oh yeah, haha, things got pretty wild. So what brings you here?”

He cleared his throat again.

“Ahem, well, this is kinda embarrassing to say, but I'm the Tarzan for this show. They needed one last minute, and my older sis " the black panther over there, you see her? - is a full time model here, so she signed me up for it. I do get paid. All I have to do is to stand wearing not very much at all in front of a city-full of cold, judging strangers. Now you see how broke I am!” he laughed.

“I had no idea you were a male model!”

“Not a model, a substitute! An understudy, if you like. My talents are reserved exclusively for strictly last minute arrangements only,” he insisted in a joking manner. Mia found herself laughing.

“Got it,” she teased.

“Well, hey, it's been great seeing you again when I'm not, you know, off my head. I'd better go get publicly undressed now. Sounds great right?! Haha, see you on stage.”

“See you,” Mia said in return, but Nick had already made his way through the stressing sea of cheetahs and jaguars to the backstage dressing rooms. A white tiger fixing her nails had scowled him as he'd accidentally knocked her elbow when passing by.

She found it strange how she'd found conversation with him so easy, despite him being in college and into snooker and her being in High School and hating all physical activity. Not that snooker really counted as physical activity.

“We're on in five!” Antonio's twangy voice chirped enthusiastically yet exhaustedly.

After this announcement, Nick emerged from Behind Closed Curtains, and was " in his words " 'publicly undressed'.

Mia did a double-take.

Gosh.

The purposefully scrappy fabric wrapped around his middle only just promoted him to an acceptable level of decency. His not entirely unfamiliar chest gleamed under the studio lighting, leaving a guilty smirk snacked across her face. He was leanly muscular; just enough to show he worked out but not enough for his biceps to bulge unappealingly and burst from his upper arms like they were alive and wriggling around under his skin, acting as some sort of Incredible Hulk back-up.

Peeling her eyes from her newly acquainted male model, she trailed into view of the public eye, perching into position as practised whilst pouting precariously.

She spotted Jake out of the corner of her eye that wasn't shooting sexy glares at the camera lens.

She was glad he'd come.

Jake wished he hadn't come.

Sure, he loved supporting his girlfriend and all that s**t, but seriously? A fashion show? Not his scene. He supposed Mia did look pretty irresistible in her tiger outfit, but he didn't like thinking that any number of males around could and would most likely be thinking the same thing. Paws off, he growled, amused at his own pun.

He had considered turning around when he'd watched two grown women be carried from a store by security guards after pouncing on each other over a sale pair of Kurt Geiger's. The wild animal costumes? Really not necessary " to anyone who's vision was not clouded by hallucinations of any which shoe that had studs and a brand label, it was obvious that these women were already reckless beasts. He felt ashamed and more feminine than his protective shield named 'coolness' allowed to even know who Kurt Geiger was.

What next?

His question was answered when a college kid wearing a scrap of furry material around his middle crouched prominently on the stage.

Oh God. A bloody Tarzan " and a good looking one at that. He noticed Mia sneak a secret side glance at him. The b*****d.

Now Jake was stood outside the Waterstones, standing tall to get the best possible view of Mia, simultaneously keeping a watchful eye on the Tarzan character as he held his Canon camera up to the display: Mia had asked him to take some photos for her. But, even through the camera lens, he could see photos would be of secondary interest from now on.

The camera snatched a screen shot just as Mia and the Tarzan smiled at each other. She had a twinkle in her eye that had been missing since he'd kissed Franki at the party. It was nice seeing it back.

“No, thanks, I'm not hungry.”

Gemma tutted. Those dangerous words had returned for round two.

Her suggestion of them grabbing a Subway or something had been hastily refused. She didn't know what else to say. They hadn't eaten all day. Gemma herself was starving.

They'd waited the hours that had crept up slowly until the train to their town centre had finally arrived, playing road-trip games like naming the states and the classic 'I-spy'.

“Well, I'm starving, so I'm gonna get some food. You coming?” Gemma said persuasively, in the hope that once April could see the food herself she would begin to get hungry.

“Sure, but try to be quick. I just want to go home now.”

“Yeah, same. Well, there's a few food places down by where Waterstones is, so lets head along to there.”

The dismay that a fashion event was going on sunk in as Gemma joined the snaking queue of people hoping to grab a sandwich before browsing the other displays. The one nearest was some sort of jungle piece. Gemma, being someone who despised fashion and the idea of having to constantly upkeep with an ever-changing set of laws about what you can and cannot wear, instead focused her mind on rehearsing her man-sized order in her head before she would have to recite it over the counter.

After being handed her carrier-bag full of food, Gemma relocated April and the two of them began walking back up to the station. To do so it was required for them to pass the stage, where the jungle piece was in full vision.

One of the tigers looked kind of familiar...

Emily had upgraded herself to a Waterstones in town. Although a big company taking over and completely undermining all minor, self sufficient book stores was more against her morals than fake nails and gold chains, she had to get by. She'd been offered a good position because of all her experience and years of commitment to her previous job.

She supposed that it wasn't as bad as she'd first thought. She disliked the tight black T-Shirt that was required at the uniform: she felt exposed because of the way the fabric stretched over her body.

But it was very peaceful. It was nice having people roll in and browse through their favourite genre all day. It had a nice atmosphere; the quiet and gentle melody of voices always in the back of her mind.

She liked watching teenagers pop in after school to study alone in the corner for a while, being carefully not to bend the cover so as not to be forced to purchase the book.

Men in suits came in their lunch breaks and spent the duration of their time deliberating between classics. Which version? Which cover? Which price?

Excited kids ran in, eager to find the latest book in a series surrounding some form of talking animal of mischievous child. They would knock disruptively on the fish tank before sitting cross-legged on the floor with a picture book lovingly tucked up in their arms.

There would be the occasional geek, who if male would most often hurry to the comic book section to swap their lonely lives for a world of endless possibilities: superheroes and superpowers, with adventure after adventure as they rid the fictional reality of 'bad guys' whilst arguing with the next guy about the hierarchy of DC or Marvel. If female, they would be more into Manga, and would scream through their braces if any new ones had arrived.

Then there would be the women, who would nearly always be into romances. There would be the kind who were always up for a light-hearted Romcom with a happy ending almost guaranteed, with titles like 'Remember Me', 'Once Upon a Time' and 'It All Started When...' like the beloved Alexandra Potter books. Then there would be the more ferocious romances, loved by women who would shyly avert their eyes from any passer by as they would secretly reach out and grab a 50 Shades equivalent " already excited by the erotica.

All kids of people who shared one love " reading " would be united in this one building. Emily loved being a part of that. She loved seeing the thrill on someone's face as she handed them their evening's entertainment in a carrier bag, along with the receipt.

Plus she got a staff discount, which her previous job hadn't quite been able to squeeze into the rapidly decreasing budget. Career perks.

But she had had to sacrifice one beloved thing: her walks home with David. The ever present claustrophobia frightening city train wasn't the most classy choice of travel, but lack of other options limited her in that department.

He was taking her out to fancy restaurant tonight. She would have stopped in Next or Gap to find some new top to wear as it was 'quite a nice place', but it was that time of year that the stupid annual fashion show had returned to densely populate the already overcrowded streets with teenagers in cropped tops that really shouldn't be in cropped tops, eager to meet some model who's name would be the answer to the question 'What do you want to be when you grow up?' for far too many youths.

Some people could just about get away with skimpy clothing and low-cuts; the majority could not.

She could hear the show's loud music disrupting the peaceful environment with its constant boom, boom, boom of pop songs. On contrast, they were currently playing an old song which didn't fit in with the theme at all: Heroes by David Bowie " which stood out from the norm of rapping and electronic notes that at least matched the ferociously fake hostility of the event. She could see it all going on through the store's big window if she angled her head right, but momentarily all she could see was a male's head. He was holding up a camera and aiming it at the tiger in the middle. She watched as his head turned, and followed his gaze to where two girls who looked like identical twins were weaving through the crowd. They both had the same pale skin and black hair. She recognised their faces somehow, but couldn't place them to a scene.

One of the girls turned around and saw the guy looking at her. She stopped her twin, and started to run over to him, her black hair bouncing along behind her. The tiger " who she could now see as she'd taken a step forward " followed the girl with her eyes. Followed the girl as she ran up to the male. Followed the girl as the male dropped the camera and reached out to the girl. The twin stood at a distance as they kissed...

The song came to an end.