Rory snuggled down in her bed. She pulled her navy blue flannel comforter, patterned with green and crème polka-dots, up to her chin and sank into her multitudes of pillows. She sighed as her eyes drifted shut, on the verge of sleep, she loved her bed.

A glowing figure emerged from the darkness. It was a woman wearing an ankle-length white gown. The gown moved as if caught in the wind, although Rory felt nothing. The figure got closer and Rory could see short, wavy blond hair. Pale arms encased in white reached out to her, and Rory could see sky blue nail polish on the figure’s fingernails.

"Maureen, is that you?" Rory said.

Her sister stopped in front of her and smiled. The pearly glow around her made her more beautiful than she had ever been while she was alive. Maureen lifted one polished hand and rested it against Rory’s cheek. "Everything will be fine, Rory. I promise."

The image shifted and instead of her sister she was looking and a man. His messy black hair stood out around his face, a face that was so pale it nearly glowed. "I’ll protect you," he said. "I’ll always protect you." He lifted a pale hand and held it there, waiting for her to take it. She looked at it, studying its size and long fingers. It looked strong. The hand looked like something that would hold her, stroke her, and keep her safe. She looked up from the man’s hand and met his eyes, his storm cloud gray eyes. They were eyes she knew, eyes she’d seen, they were eyes that haunted her. She stared into those eyes until they faded into the darkness.

The woman screamed and fell over. She scrambled to her feet and, whimpering, staggered down the hall. She tripped over her baggy black sweatpants and fell again. She clung to the wall and looked over her shoulder. Tears trailed down her face, and strands of blond hair stuck to her cheeks.

A cold, vicious laugh filled the narrow hallway and a blurred figure came into view. The person was tall and broad shouldered and male. Jeremy squinted, trying to make out more of the attacker’s body, but everything about the man was hazy.

The woman shrieked and Jeremy looked back at her. She’d come to the end of the hall and was huddled in the corner. She’d curled her body into a ball, and she was shivering. "What do you want? Why can’t you leave me alone?" she whispered, peeking out through the arms she’d wrapped around her head.

The man chuckled and it was deep and full of malice. "You, my dear. I need you to complete my plans." He laughed again and stalked towards her. "You are the key to everything."

The man reached for the woman, she screamed, all her fear and hate echoing down the hall. And Jeremy dove towards her and said, "Rory."

"What’s up with ketchup?"

"What?"

"Ketchup, what’s up with it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well have you ever noticed that it’s spelled two different ways but it’s the same word?"

"Um…."

"No really, sometimes it’s ketchup and sometimes it’s catsup. Isn’t that weird?"

"Are you seriously saying this?"

"What? It’s just a question."

"I’m going back to bed. Are you coming?"

"Yeah, but seriously, what’s up with ketchup?"

"So, I was reading Pride and Prejudice and I realized that I’m really jealous of Elizabeth Bennet. Mr. Darcy is so hot, I totally want him."

"Why were you reading Pride and Prejudice?"

"Felt like it."

"Okay. You do realize that Mr. Darcy is fictional right?"

Yeah, but haven’t you ever had a crush on a fictional character?"

"No."

"Honestly? You’ve never watched a movie or read a book and thought, ‘I’d so do him.’"

"Well, maybe…."

"Okay, who was it?"

"Legolas."

"Who?"

"You know the elf from the Lord of the Rings."

"Seriously, you like the archer boy?"

"It’s the hair…and the ears. I really like the ears."

"And you were making fun of me because I like Mr. Darcy. You like an elf."

"Shut up, let’s go."

"I’m never going to let you live this down, you know that right."

"Fine, see if I ever tell you anything ever again."

"You know I love you, even if you do like elves."

"I’m walking out the door now."

"And I’m right behind you."

"You think we’ll be together forever?"

"I don’t know, forever’s a long time."

"But you want us to be together forever, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course I do."

"I love you."

"I know; I love you too."

"Good."

"Hey, do you think Jessica Rabbit is hot?"

"What?"

"I know, I know, you like boys. I like boys, but if you did like girls, would you think that Jessica Rabbit was hot?"

"Why do you ask questions like this?"

"I don’t know. I just ask whatever’s in my head. I just watched "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" and I was curious because I know so many guys think that she’s hot."

"I never really thought about it, I’m not you. But, no, she’s too weirdly shaped. No woman really looks like that. Her boobs are too big."

"Well I think she’s pretty."

"You would."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means I’m glad you like boys."

"What?"

"Never mind, can we stop talking about Jessica Rabbit now?"

"Fine, what do you want to talk about?"

"Kiss me."

"That’s not a topic of conversation."

"Kiss me anyway."

"Well, if you insist."

"It’s good that we were friends first right?"

"You mean before we started dating, yeah I guess it’s good. Why?"

"Because we’re not only boyfriends, we’re best friends too, so we’ll never hurt each other."

"You’re right; we’ll never hurt each other."

"Good, cause I love you."

"Yeah, me too."

"What do you want to eat?"

"I don’t know what do you feel like?"

"Pizza, or maybe Chinese, and I want nachos too."

"Well, you’re going to have to choose one."

"Can we have all of them?"

"I’m not sure I can eat that much."

"Let’s get them all and have a carpet picnic."

"What’s a carpet picnic?"

"We get a ton of food, put it all on the floor, watch movies and pig out."

"That’s all that’s to it?"

"Yep."

"And this is what you really want to do? Instead of going out you want to watch movies at home?"

"Is something wrong with that?"

"No, but we always stay in. I just thought maybe we could go out."

"Well, I just want to be with you. We can go out if you really want to."

"No, carpet picnic it is."

"You sure? We can still go out."

"No, no. We’ll go out next time. A carpet picnic sounds great."

"You seem distant lately. Is everything okay?"

"I’m fine."

"Are you sure, because you seem quieter than usual, which is crazy because you hardly talk as it is."

"I’m fine, really."

"Well, if you’re sure."

"I am."

"Okay, do you want to watch a movie?"

"No."

"Alright, what do you want to do?"

"I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed."

"Okay."

"Hey if you could be any famous person’s underwear for a day, whose would you be?"

"What are you talking about?"

"It’s a question, if you could be the underwear of a famous person, for a day, who would wear you? I’d be Johnny Depp’s underwear."

"Why are you asking me this?"

"I read it in the If book. You know that book with questions about life. I thought it was a funny question."

"Well, sorry, but I don’t really care."

"Why are mad?"

"I’m not mad, but I have a headache and I’m not in the mood for any of your stupid questions."

"I’m sorry; I just thought that it’d be fun."

"I know, but I’m tired and I have a headache and I just want some peace and quiet."

"Fine."

"Thank you."

"I love you."

"I know."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you leaving?"

"You don’t care about me anymore. You come home and you ignore me. You haven’t really talked to me in a long time."

"But I do everything for you. I answer your stupid questions, I listen to you prattle on about nothing, I do what you want, I eat where you want, why are you leaving?"

"I can’t have a relationship with a ghost, and that’s what you’ve turned into. My stupid questions, as you call them, are a part of me. When you say they’re stupid you’re saying I’m stupid. I don’t want a relationship with someone who thinks I’m an idiot."

"I don’t think you’re an idiot. I love you."

"No you don’t. That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that you love me in months."

"But I do, I love you."

"Maybe you did once, but not anymore. Now you’re just holding on so you don’t have to be alone."

"Please don’t leave, please. I can change, I’ll listen more, I’ll do anything, I promise. Please don’t go."

"I’ll leave you with one more stupid question, how will you feel later when you realize that you didn’t just loose your boyfriend you lost your best friend too? Because I know that it hurts like hell."

She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and strode down the hall to the weapons room. She wore the gloves so that nobody would be able to lift fingerprints off the nine digit keypad fixed onto the wall outside the weapons room. She paused outside the reinforced steel door and punched in the nine digit code that changed every week. The door whooshed open and she stepped in.

The door automatically closed and locked behind her, and she took a minute to look around her at all her toys. To her left was a desk full of communication equipment, the wall next to that held guns, the wall across from her held her knives, and the wall to her right held all her other goodies.

Her communications desk had a fully charged cell phone, a laptop with a power cord and a full battery, a fax machine, a flashlight, batteries, pens, pencils, paper, a radio, a small television, and a pair of walkie-talkies. The desk was large, made of oak, and served no purpose except to keep all her odds and ends in.

She walked over to her gun wall and ran her hand down the cool steel of a Browning High-Power, her favorite gun, soothing her frazzled nerves. She looked along the wall at all of her ‘babies’. There were a couple of shotguns and a single sawed off shotgun for concealed carry. She only had the one because sawed off shotguns were illegal. There were a few uzis, although she didn’t like using them if she didn’t have to because although the kickback wasn’t bad, the spray was too big and too random for her liking. She had a Kahr P9, which was incredibly slim, that she used in case she needed to hide a gun in an evening bag or under curve hugging dress clothes. She had two more Browning High-Powers. They were large, for a hand gun, but the drip was small enough for her to handle comfortably. The Browning also carried the most rounds of any of her other handguns; it allowed for thirteen rounds, most of her other handguns only carried nine. She had one Beretta 9000, they held twelve rounds, were compact and handled very well. The only other gun she had was a Derringer, the smallest gun in existence. She hardly ever used the Derringer. It was a last resort gun, used only if she had nothing left and an enemy was right on top of her.

She glanced over her blade wall, her hand still resting against the Browning. The fluorescent lights glinted off the stainless steel of the blades. Mounted on the wall were numerous types of knives and swords. She liked swords, although she hardly ever got to use them. It was simply more practical to shoot someone than to slice them up. Still, she had many different kinds of swords, from the classic fencing sword to the Japanese katana to the machete. She used her knowledge of sword fighting like she used her knowledge of martial arts. It was training; it was a way to balance her mind and body, a way to stay in shape, and to keep her on her toes, because one always had to know what was going on in a swordfight or else they might loose life or limb. Other than swords, she also had an impressive collection of knives. She had a collection of identical small, double edged knives that she used for throwing, larger ka-bars with both smooth and serrated edges, she even had a custom made knife that was as long as her forearm and was really more a short sword than a knife. She had daggers and rapiers, thin stilettos and thick hunting knives. Although she didn’t get to use her blades as much as her guns, she loved every one of them.

She moved her gaze to the last wall of her weapons room. This wall held every other nifty weapon she’d come across. Mounted on the wall were a flame thrower, grenade launcher, and a cattle prod. There was a bow and arrows and a crossbow. Looped around a hook there was a garrote. There was a set of brass knuckles, and two rings that had sharp metal points instead of stones.

All around the bottoms of the walls were cabinets. Inside them she kept her ammo, sheaths, and armor. She had different caliber of bullets for all her different guns, she even had some armor piercing rounds, just in case. She had sheaths to keep weapons on almost any part of her body. She had knife sheaths for her forearms, thighs, back, and a custom made spine sheath for her big knife. For guns sheaths she had shoulder holsters, hip holsters, and thigh and ankle holsters. She also had some Kevlar vests, although since she had armor piercing rounds it was a good bet that anyone shooting at her would also have them. Also, just to be on the safe side, she had a pair of night vision goggles. Like the boy scouts she was always prepared.

The walls surrounding her were reinforced steel and were nearly unbreakable. The floor was carpeted to deaden sound. A set of televisions with video feed were set into the wall next to the door and above the desk. The room was big enough to do cartwheels in. It was spacious, if a little cold.

This was her room. It held all that was left of her past life. It held her life, everything she was and everything she ran from. Right now it was her salvation, but other times it seemed like a weight pushing her down to ground, waiting to bury her. This room was her secret life; it was one she wanted to keep hidden.