Grave rocked back on forth on his toes as he waited for his assignment to pop into the air in front of him. He had hust finished his official training as a MUB (Monster Under the Bed), and he was ready for his first assignment. More than ready. He had been shadowing a seasoned professional for fifty years as of last night and tonight would be his first solo mission.

In the great hall, where all the monsters gathered before the beginning of their shift, the air was tight in anticipation. The gold banesters and green moss chairs seemed to be extra colorful, and the statium was pack full of other full fledged monsters. Grave blew his grass colored hair out of his face. One of the other monsters down his row noticed Grave’s nervousness and gave his a small nod.

Then it began.

Starting from one end of the bowl shaped room and slowing circling around, a wave of scrolls appeared. The sound came in waves, a small poof and then the crinkling sound of old paper filled the room.

When the scroll appeared in front of Grave, he snatched it out of the air before it could even think about flaling to the ground. Slowly he pulled the scroll apart and smiled at the child he had been given. A six year old boy named Ryan, who lived in on the edge of San Fransisco, and had lost his first tooth that morning.

Grave almost groaned aloud, but kept the smile on his face. The monster beside him disappeared, reminding him of the important next step. Grave pulled out a leather necklace and fumbled with the ring attached on the end. Without letting the strained expression on his face fall, he pressed his special seal onto the paper, therefore acception the mission.

In an instant Grave was pulled into a magic portal and drug through into the mortal world. He had become used to portal travel in the last few decades, but he stopped to make sure that everything he needed had come through with him.

He checked the top of his head; making sure that his anters and green hair had remained exactly as they had been. Next he opened the bag at his hip to make sure the special powders and dream collector was there. Lastly he checked his arms and legs. His fingers were all in place with iron pointed nails at the end of each, and his feet were covered by soft leather shoes.

Ryan groaned and shifted in his bed and let out a soft breath that could only belong to a child.

Grave pulled out the dream collector and slowy crept toward the bed. When telling the story of the Monsters Under the Bed, what many parents got wrong was the purpose of the creatures. Monsters were assigned to collect the dreams and bring them back to their world, which entirely relied on them for the source of power (only the good dreams, though, the nightmares that they had collected were sold to Hollywood to be made as cheep horror films). The monsters weren’t there to scare or eat the children, although Grave had seen his old mentor frighten an adult or two.

All grave had to do was open the spherical dream collector over Ryan’s head and collect the dream before…

“What are you doing here?” A light voice hissed from behind him.

Grave would forever claim he hadn’t cringed at the voice, but cringe he did. He slowly looked over his shoulder and saw what he dreaded most: a toothfairy.

A fairy, not much shorter than him, stood with her ams cross and a sparkling wand dangling in her hand. She had tight, red curles and a silver dress that were shaped like flower pedals. Her most impressive feature were the two giant hummingbird wings fluttering on her back.

“That’s my tooth, monster.” She pointed the wand at Grave and fixed her face into a glare. The light of the wand made the freckles across her nose glow in the dark.

“I don’t care about the tooth, I’m just here for the dream.” Grave clutched the sphere tighter. Monsters and toothfairies lived in neighboring realms and when they first started crossing over to the human world rules had to be made. The first rule that had been put into place was that only one magical being could interfere with a child on any given night. Not a problem for the monsters when the child grew into their teens and adulthood, but a big problem for Grave right now.

Grave stepped toward the bed and the fairy lunged. They fell to the floor, the sphere rolling out of Grave’s grasp.

“You monsters get all the other nights, go find someone else,” the fairy grunted at Grave shoved her away from him. The fairy reached for the nearest object and a racecar sailed into the air and hit Grave on the side of the face.

“I can’t go back empty handed.” Grave crawled forward, his head now pounding. He would a laughing stock. Returning without a dream on your first night would make him the joke of the year. He would never be able to live it down. No, he couldn’t be outmatched by a tiny, little fairy.

Grave’s hand closed around the sphere and he tossed it into the air. A silver light shot toward the sphere. It shot low and splashed in the wall behind the bed. Grave stood, ready to defend the sphere with his life. He barley had his footing when the fairy tried fly and reach over his head. Grave turned and moved to prtect the sphere, which had already started to spin and collect whatever dream little Ryan was having.

As Grave moved his foot came down to rest on the racecar that had previously connected with his face. When Grave put weight onto the car it slipped out from underneath him. Grave stumbled forward and fell. His mouth made a terrible crack against the bedpost as he fell. The fairy gasped and collapsed on her knees next to him.

“Are you alright?” Worry danced in her wide eyes. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Grave sat up and was about to answer when he felt something new rolling around in his mouth. Grave spit the object into his hand and held it toward the fairy to use her glow to see what it was.

The fairy put and hand to her mouth and picked up the monster’s broken tooth. Grave was too stunned to move. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, then blushed. “I’ve never seen a monster tooth before.”

Grave opened his mouth and ran a finger along the top row of his teeth. He found the hole only to find the tooth had already started to grow back.The sphere above Ryan clicked off and fell and rolled onto the floor.

Thet fairy reached and handed the sphere back to Grave. “I guess you win this round…”

Grave blinked as he waited for her to finish, until he realized she was waiting for him. A squeek came out first. “Grave,” his voice came out louder the second time.

The fairy smirked. “Nice to meet you Grave. I’m Cassidy. You can have that back, but I’m keeping your tooth. I’d much rather have it anyway.” She stood and raised her wand. “Until we meet again.” Dust shimmered down to her feet, and then she was gone.

Grave sat for a long while trying to wrap his head around what happened. Finally he smiled down at the sphere in his hand and retuned back to his land. All the while thinking about when he might see Cassidy the fairy again.

The party was crowded with things seen and things invisible. Strobe and Christmas lights hung carelessly throughout the Victorian style house that hadn’t been ‘officially’ occupied since a tree caved in the extended sitting room a decade ago. As music pumped through portable speakers, college students mingled and danced in groups separated by half caved in walls. 

Alina stood at the top of the entrance stairwell. From there, she could see everyone who entered and most of the living area. If any of the drunk partiers were to glance up at her, they would see a loner glaring into the crowd. They would then glance away and forget all about it. A few might wonder when she got there or if she even went to their school, but those thoughts didn’t bother her. It was the ghosts and overconfident football players that did. 

Alina felt a cold breeze brush against her neck. She looked over to see Ren rest his forearms on the railing next to her. He looked over the crowd with none of the distain Alina felt. His eyes darted from the girls at the bottom of the wooden stairs to the lights to the living area, where most of the dancing was happening. 

“See anything?” Alina asked Ren. She would normally whisper when talking to him, but between the music and the distance between her and everyone else no one would hear her talking to air. 

Ren glanced at her then looked back down to rescan the crowd. He straightened and moved so his hands rested on the railing. It was habit for him; acting as if he was solid. Like he could touch the railing, like he couldn’t float around if he wanted to. 

“I see what you see.”

His response wasn’t a no. They could both feel that something ‘other’ was there but hadn’t been able to see it yet. It was why she was here. She had known something powerful resided in the abandoned building when she drove by a few weeks ago, and as long as the building stayed abandoned it wasn’t her problem. The harmless dead had no claim over her time. When the living got involved, however… She had heard of the party a few days ago and had to double check the address to make sure it was the same building. So, here she was, looking for something quite not there when she should’ve been studying for tomorrow’s chemistry test. 

“Who do you think it is?” Movement drew Alina’s attention to the door. Two college students cheered as they brought in a large stack of pizza. 

“Probably a child,” Ren answered, “Victorian houses always seem to have children.”

Alina shivered. Children were the worst kind of ghost. Some of the adults could be reasoned with, but children never understood and that made them dangerous and deadly. 

“Where are they?” 

Ren, being dead himself, could normally sense them out, but they hadn’t been able to find anything earlier that day or when party goers had started to show up. 

Ren had been the first ghost Alina had seen. For weeks she had thought she was going crazy, then she started seeing more people that weren’t there. Ren said he was here to help her and that she was one of the few that were able to see them. He taught her how to trap the ghosts into charms and how to put them to rest. 

“It’s still here,” Ren confirmed, “why don’t you go have some fun? I promise I’ll find you if I see it.” 

Alina looked over at him. “I’ll have fun when the job is done.”

Ren snorted. “No, you’ll go right back to your dorm and study for the rest of the night. I don’t think you understand the college experience. It’s concerning.”

“Oh?”  Alina raised her eyebrows. “Were you were a big partier in college?”

Ren grinned. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Alina sighed loudly and tilted her eyes to the ceiling in a pleading look. Ren refused to tell her about when he was alive. All she had ever managed to get out of him was that his name was Ren and his parents had moved to the States from Japan when he was only one. That was it. Her best friend was a total mystery. 

A creak down the hall caught her attention. Alina looked around Ren into the darkness. The darkness made eye contact then moved into the nearest room. A room she knew to be a study. 

“Did you see that?” 

Ren blinked a few times. “No. What was it?”

Alina slowly moved out of sight of the party goers and down the hall. She slipped the chain over her head. The maroon gem spun as she wrapped the chain around her palm. 

“Alina, Alina,” Ren harshly whispered. He was a few steps behind her, and hated when she went in blind, but flashlights make it harder for her to see them. 

Alina stepped over the threshold and into the study. Ren paused in the hall. Inside were a few chairs and a desk. The wall still held old picture frames covered in dust and empty bookshelves. Otherwise the room was empty.

“I don’t see anyth-” Ren’s voice was cut off by the door slamming in his face. 

Alina spun around in time to see an arm lash out from the darkness hitting her in the middle. Her feet left the ground, and she flew across the room. Wood splintered beneath her as she landed on an old chair. 

“That’s new,” Alina groaned as she stumbled to her feet. Ghosts couldn’t touch her until the stone touched them, until now apparently. Beyond the door Ren was yelling her name and pounding on the door. Which was weird because he should’ve been able to pass right through the door. 

The form rushed at her again, but she was ready. Her body moved with the ghost. He reached. Alina grabbed his arm rolled back and flipped him over her head and onto his back. Alina rolled and leapt from her crouched position. The ghost, in the middle of sitting up, was tackled back to the floor. 

Alina pushed his chest with her hands and tried to maneuver the gemstone so it could touch the skin over his heart. Blood dripped down her face where the ghost raked his fingers down her cheek. 

She cried out as the ghost flipped her, so he was on top. His hands wrapped around her neck. Her hands tore into his shirt. She tried to scream. Her lips felt heavy. Felt numb. The gem still hung from her fingers. Ren was screaming her name. She could see the bare skin. Total darkness edged her vision. She felt as is her heart was about to explode. The gem escaped her grasp and fell to the floor. Her fingers remained on his chest. Her eyes shifted to his face only to find darkness. No eyes, no mouth, no nose. Just black shadow. Her hands fell as the last of the world drifted away. 

Then nothing. 

The weight on her chest was lifted. Air flooded her throat. Alina opened her eyes and rolled onto her side as she gasped and coughed. Her hand landed on her necklace. In the corner of her returning vision Ren was fighting off the faceless thing. It hit Ren in the gut, who fell to one knee giving It the leverage to kick Ren in the face.

Alina curled her fingers around the chain. Her arms shook as she pushed herself off the ground. Ren threw It across the room and into a wall. Dust fell from the roof and a picture frame smashed to the floor. Glass scattered on the hardwood. 

It shook it’s head before stumbling forward. Alina lined herself behind Ren’s form. Her legs shook and her head spun while trying to pound itself out of her skull. It lunged across the room to Ren. In a smooth motion Ren grabbed It’s wrist and twisted under and up. Alina moved forward and reached up. The gem slammed into It’s chest. Bright light escaped through Alina’s fingers. 

It screamed. A horrid, draining sound. Most ghosts lean into the gem and let it absorb them, like they were being sucked into a wormhole. Instead the thing screamed and burst into black ash before disappearing. 

Alina dropped her hand. 

“Alina, are you alright?”

Alina looked up to Ren concerned face right before her knees gave out and she collapsed onto the floor. 

“Alina!” Ren dropped in front of her. His hands hovered over her arms wanting to touch her but knowing they will just pass right through her. 

Alina held one hand to her throat and the other on the ground to keep her from flopping over. She stayed that way for a long while: hand on the ground feeling the pulse of the music below, breathing even though every breath sent pain zipping through her throat, and eyes closed trying to keep from passing out. 

“Alina, are you okay? The room wouldn’t let me in, and I heard you scream. Somehow, I broke the door down and I saw that thing on top of you and I thought you were dead. Alina, are you alright?”

Alina finally opened her eyes and looked to Ren. “What was that?” The question was a hoarse whisper. 

“I don’t know.” Ren shook his head and repeated the answer a second time under his breath. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow. You should see a doctor.”

Alina shook her head and stood. “I’m fine. I just need some rest.” Ren rose with her, hands outstretched to catch her if she fell. It was enough to almost make her smile. “Let’s go home.”

First, patience. You’ll need a lot of it because you won’t be able to get a bird’s eye view to see where you are (at least at first). Understand that moving will get you farther than sitting and contemplating every fork in the road. Ignore the secret passages. They are dark, damp, and scary, and do not have your best interest at heart. The doors though, they might be useful. Like, go through them, wandering around is useless.

Fail with the patience thing. No one has that much patience. Talk to people, you’re not alone here. But don’t trust them, they also don’t have your best interest at heart. Get frustrated, since you know you’ve already been here. It’s okay to rage a little. Get misled by someone. It happens, and will definitely happen again. Keep going through the doors, and ignore anyone or anything that doesn’t look human. Please. It’s really in your best interest.

You ended up in a secret passage didn’t you. 

Well, now that you’re here, take a look around. Dark and scary? Yep. Keep moving. Aaand there’s that person you falsely trusted. Run. Okay, now you’re back at the surface and have absolutely no clue where you are. Get some sleep already! See that door there? It’s trustworthy. Probably. Sleep on the bed in there.

Start to really run out of patience. You’ve been here longer than you thought you would be. Learn a life lesson here, namely to be flexible and stop having expectations. When morning comes, leave that room fast, it might combust, who knows. Go into that door, no, not that one, that one. You’re technically not supposed to be in here, but while you are, grab that bottle from the shelf to your left. The tiny glass one with the purple liquid. Leave the room and run because someone will probably be trying to get that bottle back or they’ll simply be angry you were in there. Drink the liquid before it’s too late. No, stop hesitating and drink it. Seriously, there’s only a ten percent chance it will kill you and at least you’ll be out of there!

See? Told you it wouldn’t kill you. Oh and by the way, think the word “bird” in your mind.

You’re a bird now! Find a skylight and fly through it. Remember the bird’s eye view? You have it now. And don’t get caught! 

You got caught in bird form and the container is too small to change back into human form. Well, no one said this was going to be easy. Hope you got a good look to know where you’re going once you get free. Anyway, a bird isn’t your only option. Keep that in mind, but your captors will want you as a human so they’ll let you out at some point. Once they’ve let you out and told you to shift into a human, do that. This is what you get for going into weird potion rooms, but it was a necessary price. No idea what they plan to do to you so shift into a bug when they get distracted. A small bug that doesn’t make a lot of noise and can fly fast.

Fly through that tiny door in front of you! Now shift back into a human quick. You also shouldn’t be in this library so be stealthy and don’t poke your nose into even more fantastical business. You’re only human. 

Fail at that because being nosy is your worst flaw. There’s a reason you’re in the maze in the first place. Do you have any idea where you are or where you’re going? Fine, get a hint from that girl over there. She needs payment so give it to her unless it involves you dying or going completely insane (the title has to be fulfilled). Again, did you think this was going to be easy?

Realize that you can’t trust her or the one other you were thinking maybe you could trust. Be paranoid and this is the part where you go a little insane but you’re almost halfway out, don’t worry, you’ll be fine.

Find the center. If you don’t know how, use that hint you got or just figure it out.

You should have successfully gotten through the maze if you find the center. If you actually have to find your way out to the other side, repeat these instructions. 

Except don’t. Because everything’s different now. Instead of fighting an uphill battle, you’re fighting a downhill one. And you can’t come out where you started. You have to come out on the other side. 

Maybe this advice has been…questionable. You might appreciate getting free rein from here, or not. But you should’ve stopped listening to these directions a long time ago! The most important part of getting out of the maze is trusting yourself, not some wacky directions!

But if you absolutely need the advice, then here it is: go through those doors and just continue to move. And maybe you could take advice from humans and *some* non-humans, but don’t lose yourself among them. Stay patient (or not) and remember, if you have to keep one thing in mind, keep some shred of sanity (or else the title would have lied).

Their swords clashed in a dangerous dance of metal on metal while the storm arose around them. The heavy rain did nothing to stop the flames that fought to consume the parts of the ship that hadn’t sunk below the surface. Already, the ship tilted dangerously to one side, making fighting in a dignified manner next to impossible.

Every clash vibrated up their arms. They could feel the tips of their fingers. It was like fighting with a clone; equally matched in every way, neither able to get the upper hand. Had they not been in the situation it would be funny, almost.

“This is your fault!” Tavin yelled at his brother.

“My fault? If I remember correctly, you’re the one who attacked my ship!” Randel
countered. He swiped his sword at his twin’s head. Tavin gracefully ducked and brought up his sword in a counterattack. Randel easily blocked it and their swords met.

“I’m a pirate,” Tavin reminded him. “Attacking ships is what I do. Now, if I had known it was your ship I would’ve brought a bigger crew, but then again, it’s not my ship that’s on fire.” Randel pushed hard against Tavin’s sword with his own, and Tavin had to scramble to regain his footing. Something below the beck shattered. The pair paused to keep upright as the ship tilted quickly to the other side.

“Mom would’ve been so disappointed in you,” Randel said when the shuddering stopped. Tavin turned and bounded up the steps behind him and Randel quickly followed.

Tavin shrugged at his brother’s comment. “Maybe, but Dad’s quite proud. He says ‘hi’ by the way.”

A loud snapping sound momentarily diverted the boy’s attention from each other.

“Scatter!” Tavin yelled, seeing what was about to happen just before his brother. He pushed Randel backward, out of the way, and ran in the opposite direction. The fiery mast came down where they would’ve been standing.

“Tavin!” Randel searched the area. Smoke covered the area in a thick haze. He didn’t see his brother. Suddenly, red-headed Tavin popped up. Randel let out a breath, emotions conflicted with the relief he felt and the hatred he should feel. Tavin gave his brother a wicked grin.

“I didn’t know you cared,” Tavin called. Randel glared at him but didn’t respond. Tavin shrugged and walked over to the edge of the ship the burning mast keeping Randel in his place. “Until next time my dear brother,” Tavin yelled before climbing on top of the ledge and jumping off into the water.

Writers are the greatest devils of all. If you don’t believe me, try it out for yourself. See how it takes you over and makes you relish in the control you now have; the power. See how it makes you go just that tiny, teeny-weeny bit insane. Ever seen those villain redemption movies? I hear Disney has taken a liking to them. Well darling, I’m here to tell you that those are my proof. See those screenwriters, with the need to justify their own ghastly imaginations and machinations? See how popular it is? Because the Devil isn’t just about being nasty. He’s about making others do his dirty work.

But doesn’t Good always win out over the Devil and his Evil in the end? Isn’t that what stories are for? For the hero to win and the villain to lose no matter how much we like them? 

The thing is, you could just as easily say that Evil will always come back for Good to defeat. Does that make Evil the true winner? You have to admit that in some ways, Evil has more persistence than Good. 

Beatrice stands behind me, ready to do my bidding. Her eyes water, ready to spill over and ruin her thickly applied mascara, but I don’t care. It sells after all. My fingers hover over the keyboard, conflicting with themselves.

Klay stalks in from where he was waiting by the door. “You needed me?”

“Yes dear, I did,” I say without looking at him. “As always.” He nods, dressed in a fully black suit like usual, which complements his dark hair. Obviously there isn’t any other color for villains to wear. Some even have a name which implies it. And the reason they’re all so similar is because we like them that way.

Beatrice mutters in indignation. 

“No, don’t think I’ve forgotten you,” I smirk, hands typing quickly now. “No, I definitely haven’t.”

“The fact that he’s here shows that clearly enough!” she yells. I hear Klay’s bootsteps cross the floor behind me. He’s supposedly the epitome of all that’s morally wrong in the world. And yet here’s another shred of proof for you: it’s the so-called “evil” ones that draw us in. The ones you idolize, the ones you swoon over, the ones fans can’t help loving.

I turn to the two behind me. “Please,” I begin, being as patronizing as I possibly can. “I need you to talk to each other, not to me. This novel won’t write itself.”

“Of course.” Klay bows to me. The villains are always the obedient ones. And the ones who are always way too charming for their own good.

Beatrice sticks her nose in the air. Born of wealth and privilege. Just the way I made her. “I won’t go with you until you tell me where you put Mac!” I sigh to myself. I really must find a better name than Mac. It just makes Beatrice sound like even more of an idiot.

“Seriously, you don’t still think you care for him?” Klay asks her, putting on his silky tone and inching closer.

“Of course I do,” Beatrice insists. Then her expression shifts. “But that could change, if you would just tell me―”  

I roll my eyes. “Stop.” They do. “You’re too cliché, this will never sell.” 

“Well what do you suppose we do?” Beatrice asks, sounding offended. Offended. What an idiotic thing to be, considering I could have her dangling off the side of this apartment building as we speak. Ooh and maybe Klay could save her. Enemies to lovers is a well-loved classic.

I consider her for a moment. “You were hired to pretend to love Mac,” I tell her. “You did start to care about him but you care about your motives more.” A brief flash of pain crosses her face before it’s replaced with a cold glare of determination. 

“Of course. I needed the money.”

“But you’re not completely out of this,” I say, smirking again. “You still have a heart. And unfortunately for you, you’re starting to care for this morally gray devil.” There’s that word again: devil. See how it keeps coming up? 

Another flash of pain and then Beatrice cuts a sideways glance at Klay, who makes eye contact. Ah, a bit cliché still. But aren’t all romance tropes? And here’s more evidence for you: most enemies-to-lovers tropes are devilish thoughts, fabricated by people who can’t stand their own boring lives and must make others more torturous for their own amusement. But the characters aren’t real, you say? That doesn’t change the intent. Not to mention the success many writers experience―yet too many of us have not.

I turn back to my computer. “Continue.”

“Where are all your comrades?” Klay asks, all sly now. “No one to help you?”

“I didn’t tell them I was here,” Beatrice says, stony. Good, she’s better this way. No more of the crying, moldable piece of wax I had a few minutes ago. I have to make this good after all. There are expectations to uplift, things to get done, and editors to satisfy.

Klay is taken aback by this. “You didn’t bring Mac in?” 

“No,” she says. “I turned him in last night. Got a fortune.” Too evil? Maybe. I add a catch in her voice. Klay looks startled at the statement but also, thankfully, slightly pleased. He might be the one character I wrote right. 

“Come,” he says. “I have somewhere to show you.”

A knock sounds at my door. Is it Jasper? “Ash?” I start at the sound of my nickname. “I brought you some coffee since you’ve probably been up since four thirty again.”

I put my head in my hands, sighing. I don’t even have to look to know Beatrice and Klay are gone. Not that I don’t know where they went. 

Mark comes in with the coffee, cheerful as usual. One look at my face and he asks, “It’s not getting too dark in there again, is it? It’s okay to come back to the real world sometimes, you know; get those evil characters out of your head.” 

Morally gray, I think. It’s hard to explain that I am the most evil of all my characters. Maybe someday I’ll just slip inside and tumble around and around and land in their world. And instead of getting crushed under the feet of that fantastical world, I’ll rise and gain the power I never had here. Then I really will order them all around.

“Am I evil?” I ask him, sipping my coffee. It had better revive me. I don’t tell Mark this but these days I’ve been getting up at four, losing myself in these people before the sun comes in and shows me reality.

“All writers are evil.” He smiles at me. “It’s a known fact.”

I give him a smile in return, then say, “But seriously, I just made one of them turn in her traveling companion for money and fall in love with a murderer.”

“Wow, that does sound exciting. I can’t wait to read it,” he says, kissing me on the head and taking my now empty coffee mug from my hand. At the door he turns around and adds, “We all think dark thoughts sometimes. Books are great because we can think them through and see why what happened isn’t suited for real life.” Fourth piece of evidence right there. From my very own partner. 

You didn’t use to be like this, a voice whispers in my mind. Yes I did, I think, refusing to even consider that this career has changed me somehow; and not for the better. Even if I did, change was necessary. The books didn’t sell before.  I go quiet, shoving away these thoughts, and feel the story return. 

Soon enough Mac is laughing harshly behind me, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “If my entire existence is being rewritten because it was too boring before, you might as well make me another villain. There’s a reason someone wanted me caught, isn’t there?”

“Ooh. What. An. Idea,” I say, turning around to type a note into my computer. Tragic and shady past. Perfect.

He laughs another harsh laugh. “I thought I was good. But you really don’t care about my or anyone else’s well being do you?” Mac crosses his arms over his leather jacket, sparks jumping between his fingers.

“No, dear, I really don’t,” I reply, writing his words down as a perfect line for his approaching fight with Beatrice.

His little sister walks in and smiles at me. “Darling!” I exclaim, giving her a hug. She’s my favorite and it hurts to have to make her bait. Beatrice may not end up with Mac, but that doesn’t mean she feels complete apathy towards him― or that she doesn’t have a soft spot for his adorable, pig-tailed, younger sister. I hope she doesn’t die… 

Mac rips her away from me, holding her close. “Stop doing that!” he yells.

“Doing what?” I blink at him.

“Pretending you care about her!”

“It’s my job, honey,” I say, giving him a falsely sympathetic smile. “But unfortunately I  do care.” I don’t tell him how much writing affects me. He would just tell me that’s further proof I should stop messing with his life. After all, that’s how I made him.

He growls and pops out of my sight along with his sister.

“You’re conflicted,” a new voice says right behind me. I flinch but don’t whirl.

“I’m sorry Jasper.” I refuse to look at him and see his disappointment.

“You had Klay torture Alex right in front of me,” he says, voice pained. “And now Beatrice is in love with him. You might even give him redemption. She might even end up with him!”

“I―”

“Don’t try to justify yourself. Of all of us, I know why you do what you do. But I came because you’re changing. It’s getting to you. You’re conflicted, yes, but in your head you’ve started thinking about yourself as a villain. Not our hero.”

“If I was your hero―”

“There wouldn’t be a story to write, I know,” he says, and walks around to stand in front of me. “You could at least be an anti-hero. Not a villain.” Jasper is taller than I am, but I don’t feel any smaller as he looks into my face.

I stare back at him and harden myself against the look in his eyes. “You’re a figment of my imagination. My conscience.”

“Then your conscience is telling you to improve!”

“Well it seems to be doing a better job of convincing me to do the opposite! There’s no one like you and the others in my world. Only dull, meaningless, morally gray people who will never be like the ones I invent. The people here need to see others, some like them, some not, going through fictional, oftentimes difficult, things. I need that.”

“You need to see us and others suffer.”

“Yes, humans are pretty twisted that way aren’t they? Now go away, I’m done with you.” One sorrowful look from his soulful brown eyes and then he’s gone. I really hope the powers of persuasion I gave him don’t affect me.

I collapse onto my desk chair and begin typing furiously. Because this is my job and I’m only at the beginning of this draft. This is my life. I relish in it, I chose it. Even the hard parts when it seems like I’ll never make it through.

I chose to be a villain. I chose to transform myself into someone who will make their characters suffer in order to create the best narrative. I chose to be the puppeteer. I chose to be one of the greatest devils of all.