Chapter 2

Training #6583 (1)

I napped because Mom told me to. That was the way my condition at the time worked, as much as it appalled me whenever I thought about it. And when I was done napping, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about my situation for about the five millionth time since the whole thing started.

"In the end, you need to be able to obey a command right away, neither hesitating nor thinking about it until you have already started acting." That was what Michal had told me during my first lesson with him, before he realized that I had no clue what was going on. They wanted obedience, and they had gotten it, at the price of my free will it seemed. But even as I remembered Michal's words to me, I realized that this wasn't the sort of obedience that they wanted. They wanted me to obey by choice, and I suspected that was because my obedience, as bride to Nelene's son, would symbolize the bond between my family and their family. Power given by choice, not taken...

So they tried to get me back to "normal." Not completely normal, of course, since that would entail going back to how I acted before Michal got his hands on me. That would be me going back to being straight by default (simply because I had never really given thought to being anything else, really), and blissfully unaware of anything to do with the agreement between Cellen and Nelene, or being anything other than human, for that matter. The "normal" they wanted was me behaving myself while still knowing what was going on, but otherwise being the same me that I was before all of this. But after several weeks of not even being able to be myself most of the time, I was starting to think that I might never be able to go back to being me.

That was the sort of stuff I was thinking about when Mark showed up. I was still lying on the bed, though the absence of Mom and Dad made it so I could have at least sat up. I just didn't feel like it, so I was still lying flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling, when Mark came in through the open door to my room. Open, because Mom had taken to leaving it open so she wouldn't have to knock, wait, and eventually open it because I couldn't respond to her to tell her come in. I didn't really mind, because it wasn't like I could do anything that I would want privacy for (not while in the house and alone, at least), and if I had been able to do those sorts of things, I would have been able to get up and close the door as well. So, the door stayed open, making it easier for everyone in general.

I noticed when Mark entered the room, despite the fact that I couldn't even see him out the corner of my eye while staring at the ceiling and despite the fact that he didn't make any noise as he entered. It was more of a sense that had started to develop over the last couple of weeks. I figured it had something to do with all of the other magic related stuff that filled my life (or would in the near future).... Maybe something similar to how Mark knew details of my sex life (almost non-existent as it was, apart from him) that I was sure he hadn't heard from anyone. Or maybe it was just familiarity with Mark that made me extra-sensitive to him, since I hadn't really had the sense alert me of anyone (or anything) but him.

Still, I knew he was there. I knew that he would want me to sit up and greet him as well; he preferred me ready and willing for our training sessions. Unfortunately for him, even though I could act somewhat freely (within his wishes, or what I knew of them) once we were started, I couldn't initiate that. He had to speak to me and tell me that he wanted me to act before I could actually do anything. Until that happened, all I could do was lie still on the bed and wish that he would go away without so much as speaking to me.

Of course, that didn't work. It never did.

"No "Thanks for coming to see me again." kiss?" he asked, his voice sounding hurt even as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

I shook my head furiously, able to do that much now that he had established his presence. While trying to figure out what was going on with me, he had figured out that his standing preference for me to be responsive when he was alone with me had some effect on my condition, but that his wishes for specific actions, even if he left them as commands for his next visit, did not. So once we were definitely alone together, I could respond in very basic ways, but anything more than that required some sort of verbal command that had been given fairly recently.

"You're so cold these days," he said, sighing. I think he realized right after letting that out of his mouth that it was not a very nice thing to say. No one but me knew for sure, but everyone around me suspected that my condition was not of my choice, and I think Mark believed that more than anyone else. Thus the guilty look on his face as I struggled to turn over and glare at him.

He sighed again. "Sorry 'bout that. That was a pretty low blow, wasn't it? C'mere, and we can make it all better with a kiss, okay?"

As much as I didn't want him to "apologize" with a kiss... that had been enough of a command that I had no choice. I would have liked to have believed that he didn't realize that I had to obey his commands, but I was fairly certain that that wasn't the case. It was probably more like he knew that I had to obey his commands, but he thought I that I really wanted to do those things way deep down inside and couldn't until he "suggested" them to me like that. I didn't really think that it was the worst case, that he knew that I had to obey his commands and was using that to his advantage to satisfy his own sexual desires... At least, I hoped I still knew my best friend (if I could still call him that after everything that had happened) well enough to say that of him. Considering that I had always thought him undeniably straight, I wasn't completely sure of that anymore.

Shaking, I rolled myself off the bed to "obey." I rather quickly fell into the role that I had adopted for myself over the past weeks, that of the "slut in training" (as I referred to it in my head). There wasn't much I could do about the situation. I didn't really have any choice as to whether I did the things with Mark that he wanted to do or not. But even if my body was following along, it would still feel like rape to me if I mentally refused to play along. I still did not want to be raped, and even more, I didn't want to make Mark into a rapist, even if only in my imagination. So, I threw my mind into it, which seemed to give me at least a little more "control" over what I was doing. Rather than just following along with what I had been ordered to do, I could do it my way. And that way, I actually ended up getting the training that the family wanted me to get.

I made my way across the room to Mark, who was standing with open arms, ready to wrap me in a hug the moment I reached him. He did just that, even as I tilted my head up to press my mouth against his in a hot, wet kiss. I licked at his lips at first, begging him to open up, but once I felt his mouth respond to mine, I let him take charge. "Slut in training" me had learned how to lead a kiss like that pretty quickly... and had gotten pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. But I also knew what Mark preferred, from experience, and he was far more of a "plunderer" than a "plundered" when it came to kissing.

Of course, "plundered" did not mean passive, just not as aggressive. I still participated, sucking and licking at his tongue and letting the two tangle inside of my mouth. After all, Mark had a blow up doll (male, even) at home that he could French kiss and fuck any time he wanted to. (I knew this because I had given it to him as a gag graduation gift. I never said I was always a nice kid.) If he wanted a dead fuck, he could use the doll, so when he came over to "train" me he was looking for something more... responsive.

What never failed to surprise me was how quickly things got hot between the two of us. The first several times had been quick, a lot of kissing and sucking, and then he fucked me. Sessions had since gotten to be longer and longer, but not because we spent more time building up. Instead, there were more rounds, each just as intense as those first few times. Things heated up between us so fast that we just couldn't keep going at the foreplay for too long before proceeding to the main act, and even through the fuzzy veil that distorted reality for me that summer, I realized that that had to mean something. As much as I hated to admit it, even just to myself, sex with my best friend felt great.

Apparently that day Mark was even more ready for it than usual, since just moments after coaxing him into the kiss, I found myself being pressed back down onto the bed. His hands went straight for the bottom of my shirt, tugging it up and over my head and exposing my chest. One hand moved to twist my right nipple, hard, sending a sharp pain coursing down my spine... straight to my groin. His mouth pulled away from mine, leaving me panting heavily, and clamped down on my unattended nipple, while his other hand worked its way downward.

He wasted no time in wriggling his hand down the front of my pants (no underwear, since I had learned after just a few training sessions that the easiest way to keep him from getting overly frustrated was to remove as many obstacles as possible, while staying decent since my parents would still be able to see). He tugged at my rapidly hardening member a few times, but didn't linger long before pulling away completely. He extracted his hand from my pants, let go of my nipples, and stepped back, leaving me sprawled across the bed, panting.

It honestly took me a few moments to realize that he wasn't coming back right away. When I did realize it, I found that there was nothing stopping me from craning my head up to look in his direction, and then actually sitting up to look around when I couldn't find him standing there. That seemed to indicate that whatever was going on, it was part of whatever he was doing. For some reason, he wanted me to look for him... to go to him.

He hadn't left the room - I'm sure I would have noticed the sound of the door opening and shutting, even in the dazed state I had been in before. But he wasn't in the room, not unless he had somehow managed to turn invisible. As far as I knew, that was still impossible for him, so there had to be some sort of explanation for his sudden disappearance.

That explanation became evident when I turned around slowly, looking around at the rest of the room. Even though the curtains were shut across the sliding door that led out to my balcony, they were moving with a breeze. Ever since I had stopped responding to things, the balcony door hadn't been opened much, since I couldn't really get up in the middle of the night to shut it if things got chilly. So there shouldn't have been any breeze coming from behind the curtains.

Mark had apparently gone out onto the balcony. The sliding glass door was well oiled and didn't make quite as much noise as the normal wooden one that separated my room from the rest of the house. Apparently I had been dazed enough to not notice the noise of the door opening and Mark slipping out through the curtains. And that was a fairly frightening thought, since when I thought back on it, I wasn't quite sure how long those "few moments" that it took me to realize he was gone in the first place had actually been.

Shaking, I headed for the balcony. I found that I couldn't bring myself to open up the curtains, just to push my body into them and through the open doorway. And sure enough, once I got myself free of the cloth I found Mark standing on the balcony, staring out over the neighborhood.

"Took you long enough," he commented when I stepped out onto the balcony.

He hadn't asked me a question, and he hadn't ordered me to say something, so all I could do to respond to him was glare. And glare I did.

"Bet you thought I was gonna do you right then and there, didn't you?" He grinned, and motioned for me to move next to him. I did that, of course, and he put his arm around me to hug me to his side. "Sorry, but I've got other plans for this time. I wanna try something a little different today, something that might make things a little better between us."

I turned to stare at him, surprised. There had been a note of bitterness in his voice that I hadn't heard from him in a long time. But all he did was smile at me.

"This has been a really weird summer, for both of us. I'm not quite sure what's going on with you, but I get the feeling it's not something you asked for. And even though I want to think that you don't mind what's happened between us... I have a hard time really believing that sometimes. But... well, I'm a horny twenty-year-old male, and it's like whenever I get around you, I just can't stop myself. Unfortunately, I get the feeling that even though your body seems to agree with me, that only makes things even worse."

He gritted his teeth, and I felt the arm around my shoulders tighten a little.

"I really have no clue what the hell's going on between the two of us anymore. I wanna think that the Rin that I've known, and loved, I guess, for what seems like forever is still in there somewhere, but it's hard to tell anymore. It's like there's less and less of you left each time I see you. We haven't talked since that day you came over to my house. I mean, yeah, you've said things to me, but only because I told you to. Lately, all I see in you when I come over is this strange person who looks just like you, but isn't you."

Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders with both his hands and turned to look straight at me. He stared at my face, looking deep into my eyes. I stared back at him, but even as I did so, I felt what control I had had up until just then slipping out of my grasp.

"Are you still in there?" he asked, still staring at me.

I tried to answer him - I really did. I should have been able to do it, too. We had established pretty early on that I could answer direct questions... but only when it was just him, and only when he wanted me to answer. And I could say things that he told me to say. He had long since established that he wanted me to answer his questions all the time. So I should have been able to answer him. I should have felt the pressure to answer him.

Even so, I couldn't. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. I tried to nod, but I couldn't move my head. Desperately, I tried to shake my head, just to give him some sort of answer, even though it would end up being a lie. But I couldn't even do that, and as I tried, I felt a strange pressure start in my head, like something was expanding from inside my brain, ever pressing outward, harder and harder with each moment.

It didn't take long before I felt like my head was about to explode. And it was then that I found that, even though I couldn't answer Mark's question, I could crumple to the ground clutching my head. And I could let out a scream so loud that it startled even me, and must have made Mark almost jump out of his skin.

The next thing I knew, everyone in the house, Mom, Karen, and Mark (Dad was out at the time), was gathered around me, and I was laying in a fetal position in the middle of my room. I don't remember going from the balcony into the room, but I suspect it happened while I was screaming. The pain wasn't gone, but it seemed to have settled down to a somewhat more manageable level, meaning that I could think again, but it was still enough to make thinking hurt.

Everyone was talking, calling out my name, and that was how I knew that they were all there. My eyes were squeezed shut, though when I opened them up, I realized that looking around wouldn't help me that much. Sometime between the screaming and just then my glasses had either fallen off or been taken off of my face, and the world around me was a blur. Still, I could just barely make out Mom's fuzzy face leaning over me worriedly as my body relaxed and I uncurled from my fetal position, a movement that didn't quite feel voluntary as much as just something that was supposed to happen next.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice faint with worry.

She seemed to expect me to answer, more so than she had lately even as she continued to ask me questions. And I tried to answer, to tell her that I had no clue what had happened. That my head felt like it was about to explode, and that it wasn't getting any better. That I was pretty sure it had something to do with Mark, though I didn't know how that could be possible or why I thought that in the first place. But, as usual, nothing came out. I couldn't even get my mouth open to start speaking.

I'm not sure if she noticed that I was trying. I couldn't really move, so I have no idea if she even could notice. But still, she smiled at me with that same sad smile that had been on her face far too often that summer, and then she turned to Mark.

"I think you had better explain to me one more time exactly what led up to this," she said, her voice cold enough to freeze the air around us. "Slowly this time, and don't leave anything out."

I couldn't see Mark from where I was, but I could imagine exactly what he did in that moment. He glanced over at Karen, who was behind me based on where her voice had been coming from earlier. "Everything?"

"For now start from when things were decent."

"Okay then. I went out onto the balcony, 'cause I figured being outside would make it easier to focus. I wanted to talk about something, and that's hard when we're... y'know..." He trailed off.

"And?"

"And he came out after me. He didn't seem really happy that I had left him to find me, but he came anyway. I started telling him about my plans for tonight and how I wanted to make things better between us. That seemed to surprise him. I started to tell him how I've been feeling about things lately, about how I have a hard time staying in control when I'm around him. About how I'm not really sure what's going on with him. About how I'm having a hard time believing that he's still in there sometimes."

"He's still there," Karen said. "He's just... stuck I guess... when you guys are around him. He doesn't talk about it, but I can tell that he's still there, even when you are around."

"He doesn't talk about anything," Mark shot back at her. "The only times I can get anything out of him are when I order him, or when I ask him things."

"Wrong. He still talks to me, but only when you guys aren't around."

"That hardly seems fair," Mark muttered, so softly that I could barely hear it.

"Keep going," Mom said, bringing the conversation back to what Mark had been talking about before Karen butted in.

"Oh yeah. So I told him that I was having a hard time believing he was still in there, and that sometimes I saw someone else inside of him when I looked at him. Then I asked him flat out whether he was still in there. I asked him a question, so he should have been able to answer me. And that's when he grabbed his head and feel to the ground, screaming. And, well, you know the rest."

"So all you did was ask him that question before it started? You didn't do anything to him?"

"Of course I didn't!"

I felt like screaming again... though this time not because of the pain (not that that had gone away). I just wanted to scream as loud as I possibly could to get their attention. I wasn't quite sure why I wanted to do this so badly, since I didn't have any more of a clue what was going on than they did, but I still wanted to do it. I wanted to remind them that I was still there, right in front of them. After all, they were talking about me like I wasn't even there, and I couldn't even remind them that that wasn't really the case. All I could do was stare ahead of me, trying desperately not to feel the pain that still lurked just behind the surface of my thoughts, and hope that one of them remembered that I was there.

Oddly enough, my prayers were answered, though not at all in the way that I thought they would be. As I lay there, growing more and more distressed by the second, the only person who seemed to notice that was Karen. I could feel the tension between Mark and Mom, probably because Mom didn't believe Mark when he said he didn't do anything to me to make me scream and because Mark realized that, but didn't have anything else to say to her, since he was already telling the truth. They had completely forgotten about me, even though I was the cause of that tension in the first place. But Karen hadn't forgotten, or so it seemed.

"Mom, Mark," she said suddenly, with the same firm tone of voice that Mom had mastered after years of raising the two of us, "how about the two of you go glare at each other somewhere else?"

"What in the world are you talking about?" Mark shot back. "There's no way I could leave him alone like this!"

"Well you're not helping things!"

"Karen!" Mom exclaimed, sounding shocked.

"You're not either, Mom," Karen said. "Or hadn't you noticed that he doesn't exactly look like he's having much fun right now? I know you're worried about him right now, but if we want to find anything out about what happened, I need you two to leave."

The silence that followed that particular statement was so full of unstated meaning that it almost felt smoothing. Neither Mom nor Mark said a word, but it was still completely clear that neither one of them had any intention of leaving. And they both thought that Karen's suggestion was quite possibly the most foolish words to ever come out of her mouth.

"Look," she continued, "I know there's no way you could be sure of this, but he really does get better when you guys aren't around. He actually talks to me and moves around when you guys aren't nearby. I don't know why, but I swear that's what happens. So if you two go downstairs, maybe I can get him to tell me what happened. Don't you wanna know? Or are you happy just glaring at each other for the rest of the day and letting Arin stay on the floor when he looks to me like he's in pain?"

At that, Mom actually looked surprised. Then she looked down at me. I'm not quite sure what she saw; I couldn't even try to make some sort of face as a reaction. But whatever it was that she saw, apparently it included some shadow of the painful pressure that still threatened to take over my head again.

Finally, she sighed and then got up. "Karen's right," she said. "Come with me, Mark. We'll see if she can get some answers, since it seems you and I are useless at the moment."

"But..." Mark said, but he stopped, probably because of some stern look that Mom had shot in his direction. I couldn't see her face, even blurred, anymore, but I could imagine the sort of hard stare she must have been giving him at that moment. It was only a moment or two before Mark let out a sight. "Okay, fine..."

And with that, I heard two sets of footsteps, followed by the sound of my bedroom door shutting. I could tell, even without seeing them, that Mom and Mark had left the room, since I felt the strange pressure caused by their presence ease almost immediately. It didn't lift completely until they were downstairs, but I could still feel my actions freeing up rapidly. Finally, it was enough that I could actually roll over onto my back and sprawl out, instead of staying in that mostly fetal position that I had been in when I came to.

"You owe me big time, you know," Karen remarked as I stretched my arms and legs out and lay flat on my back. "I have no clue what's going on between you and Mark and the rest of the family, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave me out of it."

"Y-you... think I'd be doing this if I wanted to?" I managed to spit out, though I had to fight through the last remnants of the pressure to get started.

"Please. You kinda have to decide not to talk to people and not to do anything when they're in the room."

"Believe me, Karen. If I could make this stop, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I'm not doing it on purpose, and I don't know why it's happening in the first place."

"As if I'd believe that..." she said, snorting. "But anyway... who cares? It doesn't matter whether you're doing it on purpose or not, though you are... What happened earlier?"

"Headache. So bad it felt like my head was about to explode. I don't know why. It's not gone, but it's not as bad as it was before."

"You screamed like that because of a headache?" When I turned my head to look over at her, I could see she had crossed her arms and was staring at me like I had grown a second head. And in a way, I wished that were the case. Maybe if I had a second head, the pressure causing the headache (different from the pressure that made it so I couldn't move or talk when certain people were around) would distribute itself evenly across both heads, so I could have some peace.

But I was stuck with one head, one headache that wouldn't go away, and one incredulous little sister. Not the best combination in the world, but it was about the only thing I had at the time. I stared back up at her.

"Yes, I did. And if it happened to you, you'd be screaming too."

"No I wouldn't," she retorted. "I'm not that much of a wimp."

"And you think I am?" I stared at her, and she started squirming.

"No, not really," she finally admitted. "But that doesn't mean that I would scream bloody murder just because of a headache."

"Believe me, you would if you had this headache."

"Would not," she remarked, but then she continued. She was probably trying to make sure I couldn't respond to that part of the conversation by pushing it forward. At that point, I figured it just wasn't worth the effort to try and convince her that I was right. "So, you don't know why you have this headache?"

"No clue. Mark asked me the question. I tried to answer, but I couldn't. I tried several times, but I couldn't do anything. And then, pain. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground and all you guys were standing over me."

"Weird. And, since I'm sure Mom's gonna want to know eventually, you've never had a headache like this before, right? I think we'd know, given how much you scream, but just in case."

"Never."

"Okay. I think we should probably tell Mom about this right away. I bet she's going crazy down there right now."

"You mean you should tell her. I'd love to help, but I can't."

"What is with that anyway? What in the world did they do to piss you off that much?"

"As I told you before, I'm not doing it on purpose. Well, not anymore, and I probably shouldn't tell you the original reason. If you don't already know, I'm pretty sure Mom and Dad would kill me if I told you. Let's just say it has to do with their decisions for my future."

As I spoke, I finally got around to sitting up. My head was starting to feel a little better, though the pressure causing the headache was still there. I moved slowly, so as not to make the headache come back. Since I had no idea what had caused it in the first place, I couldn't know whether moving too fast, or moving at all for that matter, would make it worse, and I didn't want to take any chances.

She pouted, but I could tell from the look on her face that she was willing to accept what I said. That came as a surprise to me, since I was used to her latching on to things that she thought were fair or that she thought she had the right to know and not letting go until she had her way. I'm not sure what it was that changed her mind that time, but I think she realized that this wasn't the sort of battle she was going to win, no matter what. Of course, I also think she decided at that moment that she was going to go after Mom and Dad for her information, not me.

"Will you at least tell me if it has anything to do with that weird costumed teacher of yours? He makes me feel uncomfortable."

"You mean Jay? I know his hair can be a bit shocking at first, but he swears it's naturally that color. You get used to it after a while."

She shook her head furiously. "No, I mean the other one! The one with the ears!"

"Ears?" I had no clue what she was talking about. I had seen Ed almost every day while I was at school, and I had long since come to the conclusion that he was the most normal-seeming person I knew there. And I definitely hadn't noticed anything strange about his ears that would get that sort of reaction from Karen.

She put her hands up to her head, one on either side with her palms against the sides of her head and her hands sort of cupped to form two "lumps" on top of her head. "About here. The same color as his hair. Fuzzy and triangular, like cat ears."

"What are you talking about? Ed doesn't have ears like that."

"Are you kidding? I saw them. I thought they were fake, but then one twitched at me! How could you not notice that?"

"You have to have imagined it. I saw Ed almost every day at school, and I never saw anything like that."

She glared at me. Then she stood up. "Well maybe you just weren't looking hard enough," she muttered, and before I could say anything back, she walked over to my door, opened it, and shouted out to Mom and Mark, who were most likely sitting in the living room. "Come on up, Mom! He told me what happened!"

I glared back at her, but then I felt the other pressure, the one from Mom and Mark, start back up as they came up the stairs. I knew at that point that if I didn't want to stay seated on the floor, I would have to move as soon as possible. In a few moments I would be still and mostly lifeless again until they finally left again. So, I scrambled to my feet and moved to the bed, where I seated myself against the wall in a somewhat more comfortable position. I had just barely gotten in position when I felt my control slip again.

I suspected that Karen had called them up because she didn't want to hear me say she had been imagining things anymore. I didn't see any way that she couldn't be imagining things, but she seemed to be convinced that she had seen what she thought she had seen. And rather than listen to me saying she was wrong, she had chosen to call Mom and Mark back, just to shut me up. Of course, she would also explain what I had told her to them, but that wasn't the reason she called them. Not even slightly.

"What did he say?" Mom asked as she burst into the room, Mark right behind her. "He's okay? Nothing's wrong? He's not sick, is he? Does he know why it happened?"

"Calm down, Mom. He said it was a headache, though I don't really see how any headache could make someone scream like that. He didn't say anything about sick, and even though he said the headache's not gone, he didn't seem to be doing that bad. And he said he has no clue as to why it happened."

Mom's face fell, though I could see a very faint note of relief in there as well. I couldn't help but be very glad that I had managed to make it up onto the bed before I lost the ability to move. This time I could see all three of them and the expressions on their faces, which made me feel a little more comfortable with the situation. Not that I was happy with anything at that point. But it was better to know what was going on than not.

"A headache?" Mark asked.

"I believe his exact words were "So bad it felt like my head was about to explode." He doesn't remember anything between that and waking up on the floor, and he's just as clueless as the rest of us."

"Did he say anything about Mark's question?"

"Ummm, yeah. He said he tried to answer, not that he told me what he tried to say, but that he couldn't answer. I think he said he tried more than once, and that's when the headache started."

I saw a thoughtful look spread across Mom's face. Then she turned to Mark, her face utterly serious. "Mark, this summer, have you ever asked Arin to never lie to you? Or to always tell the truth?"

Mark paused for a moment, thinking. Then he nodded, and I knew exactly what he was talking about. I remembered it as well, like it was only yesterday.

It was right after he figured out that I would do whatever he told me to do and answer his questions... if he told me to. He had asked me in the middle of sex whether I was enjoying it or not, after giving me a standing order to answer when he asked me question, and I told him yes, because part of me didn't want him to feel guilty. Technically it was the truth, since it did feel good, but then he asked me if it hurt. I said no, again because I didn't want him to feel guilty, and this time it was a lie.

Afterward, he looked at me with suspicion written all across his face, and then he told me to answer him with the truth. Then he asked me if I had lied to him about it hurting. I had no chance but to tell him the truth at that point, that I had lied. Oddly enough, he had seemed to understand, and he didn't take it that badly. But he did tell me that he always wanted me to tell him the truth when he asked a question from then on.

"Yeah, I asked him to always tell me the truth when I asked him a question. Why?"

Mom's face twisted into an expression of pain. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, and then said, "I think I know what went wrong. I'll need to make some calls to confirm my suspicions, but I have the feeling that I'm on the right path."

"Who are you calling?" Mark asked.

"An old friend of mine, and one of the professors at Rin's school. He was over here earlier today to visit, and he knows of the current situation. He also has quite a bit of experience dealing with what I fear may be what is wrong, though I cannot see how that would be the case."

"One of those guys from earlier?" Karen asked. "Which one? Not the freaky one with the ears, I hope."

Had I been able to, I would have groaned at that moment. Karen was talking nonsense, and Mom didn't really need it at that point. Even though it was not like Karen at all to make up things like that, that was the only reason I could think of for her suddenly saying those things about Ed. I just hoped that Karen wasn't starting to go crazy, or anything like that.

But Mom didn't blow Karen off like I thought she would. Rather, the blood drained out of her face, and she turned to stare at Karen as if she had grown a second head. "What did you just say, Sweetie?"

Actually, it was her using the name Sweetie that worried me the most. Mom never called either one of us by little kid names like that. I was Rin most of the time, though it wasn't that much simpler than my actual name. And Karen, who had acted older than her age since she learned to talk, mostly because she was just too smart for her own good, had never developed a nickname. Mom only used baby names like that when she was angry... or nervous.

"I said I hoped you weren't gonna be calling the freaky British guy with the ears. He makes me uncomfortable."

"What ears?"

Karen sighed. "Not you too, Mom! When I mentioned that to Rin, he didn't know what in the world I was talking about! You're not gonna tell me you don't see them either, are you?"

"I can tell you quite certainly that I do not see them, but I know what you're talking about. I believe he would appreciate it if you were to keep quiet about that issue, though, since you should not be able to see that. Unfortunately, he is the one I need to call. He is uniquely qualified to deal with the situation I suspect is the case. I can, however, assure you that there is no need to feel uncomfortable around him. He would never do anything to you in the first place, but if he ever tried, he would have to answer to me."

Mom then turned to head for the door. Before she exited, she turned back to us and said, "I'm going to go make those calls. Mark, if you could come with me? If I am correct, every moment he spends in our presence only worsens the situation. Let Karen stay with him instead."

"But..." Mark protested, much like he had protested earlier when Karen kicked him out. Again, he looked over at me. He looked like he was about to step toward me, maybe even try to touch me, but before he could so much as move, Karen stepped in front of him.

"You heard her. Out."

He nodded, looking dejected, and followed Mom out of the room. Once again, the door shut behind him, leaving me alone in my room with Karen. This time, she looked at me with a thoughtful look on her face before walking back over to the door.

"You don't usually do anything when you're all alone now that you're like this, do you?"

I shook my head, and she seemed to read it correctly as meaning that I didn't do anything. Even though being alone should have been the most stable time for me, I couldn't help but feel unfocused when alone, though not quite as oppressed as when certain people were around me. She smiled weakly.

"Then I'll stay with you. Just let me go get a book. Then I'll sit in here, and you can do whatever it is you want to do right now, as long as I don't have to participate. Got it?"

"Sure."