" 'Ello journal! Today, it is the fourteenth day of March, an' I just bought you. I am 'oping we will be friends."

The journal had been purchased, with much amused laughter, along with an entire new wardrobe. Somehow, she thought that her friend, or partner, or whatever, had quite a few laughs during the day, even if she said all the right things when Elizabeth came out of the many, many dressing rooms and complained before buying whatever she hated so much, but secretly loved. The journal was pink, of course, and lined with a small bow in the middle. Her handwriting, naturally, was tiny, perfect and delicate, something taught very young, and so her name, written across the front, matched the type. She is, above all things, a lady. The journal, however, has a small microphone attached to it, if one would rather speak the write, which is what she started doing once more.

"Today, I went shopping with Miss King, and I am liking it ver' much, I am. She is ver' fun to be around, an' she is ver' good at making me feel less 'fraid, even when it is dark. I am living in her room now, so naturally, it is often dark, when there is sleeping to be done. She is also mos' beautiful, which I like. I know that I am also beautiful, an' I should be with beautiful people, or it would look strange. So, I am mos' pleased with this turn of events. Always before, my managers an' instructors an' agent are telling me nah' to be with a man, because they will take me 'way from the stage an' abscond with me so I can nah' longer dance, but I will 'ave to 'ave children an' cook, which I am nah' liking. Also, I do nah' clean, which I am told will be a problem. I fear I will nah' make a good wife, which sometimes makes me sad. But, she is nah' a man, so I am nah' doing anything wrong. Between me and you, Miss Journal, even were I doing something wrong, I would still do it. She is mos' fun, ver' fun to be with.

Tonight, I wore the new dress, the white one with the black slippers, an' the front is pulled back, so people can see that my slippers match my bow. I am thinking that people like it, even if I do nah'. I made a new friend, Ben, who is married and I am telling him I am nah' a homewrecker, just so he knows he can nah' abscond with me and make me cook for him. Already, I 'ave 'ad to tell Miss Seirichi I will nah' make her eggs in the morning, but I still would like to have the French maid costume. After all, I am all legs, and I like the ruffles on the skirt. 'Owever, I am sad that Miss Sadie is sad over something. I am assuming a man tried to abscond with her, an' she did nah' like it. That would make me ver' sad. I sang her a song tonight, which maybe will make her happy. When I was lost in the pills, or did nah' know where I was, Alexus would sing me the same song, an' I would decide I did nah' hate this life so ver' much, and I would nah' need the drugs and the bottle so much for a few days. Maybe Miss Sadie will smile when she is sleeping tonight. I would like that, from such a pretty face. Her pout is ver' nice to see, as is her backside, but I much prefer the smile, personally. Were we better friends, I would ask 'er to tell me what is wrong, but I think we are nah' that close jus' yet, which is something I plan on fixing in the ver' near future. I like her ver' much, but nah' as much as I am liking Miss King. Ver' nice, she is.

Today, I thought of something. I am liking this place, Miss Journal, I am liking it, sort of. There are dragons and aliens and minotaurs, which I am most certainly nah' liking, because I assume that they will one day decide to eat me, even though I am so small and must nah' have much meat on me. But, I am told there are unicorns here, and I would ver' much like to ride one. If there are unicorns, there might be penguins, and I also need to touch one. Also, I found a nice man who did nah' ask me questions when I asked him for the pills and the tablets, even the vials. I did nah' take Miss King into that store with me, I left when she was sleeping and came back before she wakes up. I do nah' think she likes that, an' I fear she will yell at me soon. I will cry, that is a fact.

But, if there are unicorns an' talking dragons an' aliens that do nah' eat me the first time they see me, which I did nah' believe, I am personally waiting for him to come 'pon me in the night and consume me. I am 'oping I will be ver' lost in the pills for those, so it does nah' hurt this much. My friend is telling me that she enjoys being eaten, an' I know that I do as well, but she says eaten out, an' somehow I think with the teeth that alien has, it would nah' be near as enjoyable. But, I digress, an' I am mos' sorry for wasting your time, Miss Journal. If there are aliens an' the like here, maybe the Cheshire Cat is here, an' maybe the Mad Hatter is here too' I would ver' much like to meet them, an' dance with them. Then I could really be Alice. I 'ave decided, this is my Wonderland, an' I will nah' go looking for the rabbit's 'ole that takes me back.

Also, one more thing. Miss Journal. I know you mus' be ver' tired, for it is late, an' you do not take the orange pill that keeps you 'wake for days. At least, I do nah' think you do. If you have a mouth or a nose with which to take the pills, rest assured, I will share with you. I 'ave many, ver' many."

She paused here, her head canted towards the microphone, almost as if she was waiting for a response. Sadly, she shook her head and sighed.

"I suppose you do nah' want to speak with me yet. Maybe you will, someday. Regardless, while I am liking Miss King ver' much, I am confused. I 'ave never been with a man, an' since I am nah' with anyone to tell me nah' to, I might want to, at some point. Just to see what it is like. I am a curious kitten, by nature. Of course, it would nah' be any man. I 'ave high standards, he must be as beautiful, in 'is own way, as I am in mine. Often, I wonder if Miss King would be upset by this. That, I will nah' do, make her angry. That would make me cry ver' much, an' she is telling me she will nah' like when I cry. She will make me cry at some point, I cry often. Maybe I will be asking her soon, if that would make her ver' angry with me. Tonight, she is 'olding my hand as she walks with me up the stairs, but it is only because we are alone. I am content with what we do, so I do nah' worry about this. Maybe one day, she will 'old my 'and when people can see. I like this ver' much, I am used to my 'and being 'eld, an' it makes me feel safe. She is even telling me she will take me to the movies, since I do nah' like roller blading. I 'ave only seen Alladin, the Lion King and the Little Mermaid in my life, an' I would like ver' much to see a movie at the theater. She is telling me that, if I am 'fraid because of the dark or the movie, she will allow me to move the arm rest an' sit in her lap. I like this ver' much. 'Owever, she is telling me I will be second to the screen, which is nah' an option. She is telling me this, but she is also saying that if I keep her busy, it might nah' be so. I am thinking I will be finding a way to keep her busy, even if all the people are there. I am used to being watched, so the thought does nah' frighten me. But, I am going to sleep now, Miss Journal, or at least to bed. Sometimes, I do nah' sleep, but I sleep with Miss King, because she makes me ver' tired, which I am a fan of. I am going to run with Miss Sadie in the morning, but I am 'fraid that she will think I am strange when I do nah' wear shoes. I do nah' try to be strange, but this is all I know. Sometimes, people here look at me strange when I do things like curtsy, or when I talk, or at the clothes I wear. At 'ome, this is normal. I do nah' know what else to be, an' it makes me ver' sad when they laugh at me. I do nah' like being laughed at unless I am trying to make someone laugh, which is nah' often. But, I am telling you I am going to bed, and yet I am still talking to you. I am sorry Miss Journal, I am 'oping we will be friends, an' that you will love me, because you are pink, an' that means I love you. Bonne nuit!"

The microphone was slipped back into place, and on bare feet, Elizabeth crossed the short distance and assumed a languid sprawl on the bed, a beautiful mess of frozen blue eyes, layered flaxen strands and broken beauty.

(The following is a dream, a recollection of a time when Elizabeth was seventeen, shortly after her birthday.)

It was cold in Russia, incredibly so. Even inside the Bolshoi Academy, it was cold in the dead of winter. They had come to get her from the hospital, again. She'd been declared dead twice, and spent nearly three days floating in and out of her own mind. Still, she walked with her back straight, her head held high and turned to the side, more to avoid showing the ugly bruise that was already starting to form.

There was someone behind her, someone to her left and someone to her right. The voice, however, came from the man walking behind her.

"You are such a f*cking failure, Elizabeth. You shame us all, you disgrace us, each and everyone of us. How I wish I did not have to deal with you anymore. The next time, please take enough, so that you really do die. Spoiled, pathetic little girl. That is all you are, you know that-"

"Stop it." Elizabeth's voice came out slowly, timidly. "Please, ju-"

"Shut up, child. You will speak when I tell you that you can speak, do you understand?" A hand snaked out, from behind her, and an open palm came down against her face once more, sending her tottering into the wall. "You can't even walk right. We should have left you in Paris. You can't walk, you can't dance, so maybe you can lay on your back well" What do you say to that, little girl" Without us, you would be a common whore, a pretty picture, a tool for the pleasure of who ever wanted. Do you want that?"

Mercifully, the four people stopped in front of a door, which was opened. Only the man who had walked behind followed, giving Elizabeth a violent shove into a room that made no sense. Palatial, it was. Four posts lined the bed, silk sheets were tousled and left in a random heap. Art lined the walls, the bathroom was pure marble. "You are not supposed to f*cking speak, or even think. You are here for one purpose, and that does not even involve your mouth. You are here to dance, nothing more and nothing less. We pay for you to learn, we give you all of this, and you do this to me" You throw it in my face, not once, not twice, but three times" You are not even worth the effort we put in, foolish little girl." The hand fell again, sending the frail body rolling across the bed and onto the floor behind it. For a long moment, there was silence, only muted sobs, hidden in the bright red sheets that came with her when she fell.

All at once, she stood, wobbly on her legs, a thin trail of blood running from her lips. How it showed, so red against the pale white, so strikingly different from the eyes that shone with tears, leaking rivers of brilliant blue. "You 'ave done this to me! What the 'Ell do you want from me?" Frantic, she was, the words pouring out of her mouth like a tidal wave unchecked, a desperate plea, a teenage girl's ill worded demand for attention. For something. "I am 'uman, I am nah' a picture, I am nah' dead inside. You tell me this, an' you tell me that I am nothing when I am nah' dancing, an' what the f*ck can you expect' Of course I want to die. What 'Ell can be worse then this?" A hand fell hovered over her chest, fingers pointing to her own wasted body. "Can you nah' see that, Andre" I am a seventeen year old girl, an' I am 'orrified of this, but what else am I supposed to do' Where can I go' Back to Paris, where I will end up a whore on the streets" I 'ave nothing, an' you give me nothing. Do you wonder why I 'ate myself so ver' much' Are you stupid, blind or both?" Cute, it might have been. A petite girl, blonde haired, yelling in badly accented English, Paris pouring through her words. It may have been cute except for the sunken hollows under her eyes, the trail of blood mixing with tears, those tears running from eyes that showed abject horror. The hand came up, and her fingers splayed, covering her mouth. She stared down and murmured. "I am so sorry, Andre, I promise. You are right, I am jus' a silly little girl who does nah' know what is good for 'er, an' I will nah'-"

She'd been staring down, she hadn't seen him. The words, the adorable accent, exploded into a choked back sob as cold fingers found her throat, and the open palm found her face once, twice, three times. She lost count, as she lost the ability to even think. The bruises would fade, the leather glove accounted for that. No one would see, ever. When he'd tired of that, the leather met her abdomen, each blow forcing the breath from her in desperate wheezes. When her knees grew weak and she sagged into the beating, Andre turned and threw her back onto the bed. "Now you 'ave a f*cking reason for the painkillers, stupid child. Take them now, yeah' All of them. If you are taking them, I will give you a reason." The man, impossibly tall and wide over such a slender frame, leaned down, and those same chilled fingers ran through the same blond locks, badly tousled and matted with the red liquid. Breath came slowly, each puff fighting with the swelling in her throat. "This is what is good for you, Elizabeth. You do not want to be a whore, so I must teach you, do you see" I am sorry, so sorry." The man sat, and a girl cried into the pillow, too beaten to move away and too confused to have any answers.

" 'Ello Miss Journal. I know it is earlier then normal, an' you might find this ver' strange. I am also nah' drunk, which is also strange. But, I 'ave news that I mus' tell you. To be 'onest, I do nah' know 'ow I will tell those who are close to me. I am nah' sure if I am shamed of this news or nah'."

Her voice, still heavily accented, was more stable, more clear, then it had been in quite some time. Almost as if a weight had been taken off of her chest.

"Today, I am walking back from the market. I am also getting a tattoo today. This is mos' strange, nah'" Why nah'" But, that is nah' the point. A man is seeing me, an' 'e is staring at 'ow I move. 'E follows me, an' 'e eventually talks to me, an' coaxes me into 'is 'ouse. I am mos' 'fraid, at the start, but 'e is nice, an' married. 'E will nah' take me away, I tell myself. We sit down, an' 'e just stares at me for a long moment. It is ver' awkward."

"Eventually, 'e is talking to me. 'E is saing that when 'e sees me move, even when I walk, he is caught in a spell. 'E is a mage, so 'e says, so 'e knows ver' much about these things. 'E asks me questions, where I am from, an' what my name is. What my life is like, an' 'ave I 'ad dreams. I tell 'im these things, an' 'e 'as me dance for 'im, for a ver' long time. When I am done, he simply stares again, and reaches out to touch me. When 'e does that, I am mos' 'fraid again, an' what 'appens next, even I do nah' really know. I am falling into something, for a ver' long time. I can still see 'im, but nah' ver' well. 'E is a ghost like form, ver' hazy. When I see 'is 'and nah' near me, I feel like I am swimming against a current, and I step back into 'is living room. He stares again, an' he points, careful to keep 'is 'and close. 'E asks if I 'ave been with a man, an' I say nah'. 'E asks why, an' I tell 'im, ever since I am ver' small, I am scared of them, an' I think they will take me away. At this, 'e nods a few times and smiles at me, looking quite pleased with 'imself."

" 'E tells me that somewhere long ago, there were creatures called Nymphs. They are legend, or so mos' people think. 'E knows better, an' tells me that this is nah' true. Ver' rarely, one such as myself will show up, an' the world will wonder. 'Ow does she move so' She is so ver' beautiful, in a strange way. She is classically perfect, far too beautiful be be real, why does she look like a statue, an' why does she look so 'fraid all the time" I do nah' know, I tell 'im, what he is talking about, an' he shrugs."

" 'E is telling me that I am one of those rare things, an' I am descended from the Nymphs who danced on the Styx, a place in Greece. Stygian, 'e is calling me. 'E tells me this is why I am 'fraid, we are nah' often touched, nah' at all. We are to be looked at, stared at an' wanted, but rarely 'ad. This is why I can dance before I can walk, an' why I dream of dancing under the snow, in between the flakes an' over the thinnest ice. This is why my eyes are so blue. When I am in the shadow, 'e is telling me my eyes turned almost neon, electric in color. 'E is telling me to be careful, lest anyone fall into the shadow with me. It is mos' dangerous for them to walk the places I can go. I am telling 'im what I am seeing when I am drinking, the twist of the shadows an' the colors I can nah' catch, no matter 'ow 'ard I try. I am telling 'im that I do nah' like being alone, for I feel lost an' wonder if I can come back. 'E tells me 'e is sure, 'e is right. For a long few hours, we are talking, an' 'e is showing me things, 'ow to fall into the shadow when I want, an' 'ow to take someone with me, should I 'ave to. I will nah' do this thing."

"Miss Journal, I am mos' confused by this, but it explains ver' much. An' I am nah' so afraid, now that I know why I am like this, an' that I am supposed to be like this. Oddly, it makes sense. I do nah' know if I will tell many people, 'owever. I am still 'fraid of them, do nah' doubt that. Jus; slightly less. I am going to drink, maybe we will speak again? If nah', please do nah' leave my bed. I am still nah' liking being alone, for I still feel ver' lost."