The drawing is of a thin, black winged naked woman, but it is harshly scribbled over with black and red crayons. So wildly the paper is ruined. The winged woman stands in the centre, in front of a cage. The background is meticulously filled with layers of black crayon. Flames of fire are drawn around the figure, then thick red lines of pure rage tear into her. The drawing is slightly damp, kicked under a tattered bed, and the girl lying in the bed is not crying anymore. She is staring at the ceiling. She blinks. A tiny, glowing spider sits in the corner. She blinks again and the spider falls dead onto a pile of dirty dishes with a relatively loud thump. The girl focuses on the sound, the sirens, gunshots and roaring monsters are just filtered background noise. She lazily reaches under the bed to find walkman there. She puts the headphones on, without ever adjusting the volume, without ever inserting a tape. The music takes her away from the events passed, blurs the memories into something acceptable and recountable.

She was asking about Nareth in the bar from Grifith, but he didnt know about her whereabaouts at that time. She wandered the streets aimlessly, unable to locate her stepmum. She went to the beach, but didnt feel her presence. She stepped into the water kicking off her boots. She closed her eyes as the waves licked her toes and felt the body of water and the rocks responding. She was aware of the presence of mutant fish and others lurking under the rocks, the distorted lifeforms living around abandoned shipwrecks. She opened her eyes, found herself lying in the sand, and shook her head, wondering how much time passed. She grabbed a fistful of sand, slowly letting it fall through her fingers.

She was raised in a dream. Years passed with hours, and noone can anymore determine if it was an illusion or a memory. How can you tell the difference anyway. She felt each peck of sand sizzling through her fingers, and sat up, absently digging for more and just spreading it around into the wind as she stood up. She took the boots into her hand and walked the beach, the image of the first moment she saw her father crossed her thoughts, as he was entering the library barefoot. She likes giving names, so she called him Hippy from that on. She shivers and wills herself to dry as she puts her boots on. Maybe Nareth is just magicked away. Hat trick.

Abby stirs on the bed, closing her eyes tight as she watches the dark city and herself walking in it, meeting Grifith again. He tells her Nareth is dead. Abby clenches her fist, and the memory stirs, fading to the blurry image of the picture kicked under her bed. She has met the thing that claims to have been summoned by Nareth or whomever, the thing claims that this is planned and Nareth was willing, the thing claims it all makes sense. The thing calls herself Paradox. The thing calls herself Labyrinth. The thing that calls herself Chaos.

Abby opens her eyes and wills the music stop. She recalls the darkness and the silence.

So empty.