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/> “Entertaining myself.” If I hadn't seen her bury herself I wouldn’t be able to tell she was under the fabric. To an unknowing eye it was just a pile of fabric.
“Uh... okay.” I say standing up. I pick up my dress and workout clothes. “Well I’m gonna go.”
“See you later.”

I hurry to my room to change for my workout but when I get there I remember what I did to it last night. I’m suddenly mad at myself for making such a mess. Luckily it doesn’t take me very long to restore order to the room but it’s still valuable time. After everything’s back to normal I change into a pair of shorts, a shirt and my sneakers. When I get to the gym I head right to the treadmill and run for an hour before Fisher comes in and starts running on the treadmill next to me.
“Hey Em.” He says increasing his speed to six miles per hour.
“Hi.” I let a cold tone slip into my voice.
“I see you went to Anissa’s.”
“Yep.” I say slowing my pace.
“Well that’s good.”
“Yep.” I say feeling like a broken record. He doesn’t say anything and we run in silence for another fifteen minutes. “I’m going to go get ready for dinner.” I feel completely uncomfortable and mad around him and I just can’t stand that feeling anymore.
“Yeah me too.” He says shutting down his machine.
“Okay.” I say speed walking out of the gym. I hurry down the hall, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.
“Hey, wait up.” He calls after me. I ignore him.

When I get to my room I slam the door before Fisher can put his arm or foot in the way. After I take a shower I change my clothes and I know I should put my robe on but I’m tired of that smell thing. So instead I grab my clothes from under my bed, the clothes I wore when I killed myself. They have some dried blood on them and are covered in dirt from the walk through the woods but I’m determined to wear them. So I fill my bath tube up with water and wash them with strawberry scented hair conditioner. When I decide they’re clean enough I hang them on the towel rack and dry them with my hair dryer. It takes me an hour and a half to complete the process but when I put them on I’m filled with pleasure. With them on I feel that happy feeling I felt when I was alive. Who new a soft pair of kakis, a white baby doll shirt and a pair of flats could make me feel so good.
When I get to the dinning hall I find the most crowded table I can but Fisher and Chloe still find a way to squeeze in next to me.
“Some one really needs to do something about the food in this place.” Chloe says pushing her bowl onto the floor. How old is this girl? Five? First burying herself in Anissa’s fabrics and now throwing her food on the ground. I think instantly pissed.
“Was that really necessary?” I ask kneeling down to get the bowl.
“I feel as though it was.” She says.
“Well good for you.” I say sarcastically. I place her bowl on the table even though I know she’s just going to knock it off again. I leave before she does so I don’t have to watch.

I go to the library because I know that if I go to my room Fisher will just bother me. It takes me twenty minutes to find the library but I do find it eventually. The heavy looking doors are open so I go in and come face to face with hundreds of hugh shelves. There must be at least a million books in this library.
“Can I help you find something?” An extremely tiny girl pops her head up in front of me, she has thick, bouncy, brown curls that fall to her shoulders. She looks about eighteen but with her petite frame she could pass for twelve.
“Umm... I’m just hiding out here.”
“Why?” She says bouncing into a near by seat.
“Trust me, you don’t wanna know?” I say laughing. “I’m Emma by the way.”
“Hannah.” She says pointing to herself. “I’m the librarian.”
“Angle of Death.” I say frowning.
“Ooh tough break.”
“Tell me about it!” I say a little to enthusiastically, in the distance I hear someone shush me. We start giggling uncontrollably, this makes the ‘shush’ person go crazy, they start yelling at us about how this is a library and some of us have work to do. Of course his complaining just makes us laugh harder. Then some guy named Darius comes and asks us to leave the library if we can’t control our selves.
“You can’t tell me to leave the library, I’m the librarian.” Hannah says laughing in his face.
“We both know that this position is not permanent and the librarian satis can be revoked, as can any positions.” He says glaring at her.
“Really?” I say intrigued. “Can ‘Angel of Death’ be revoked?”
“No, that position is permanent due to the fact that it has been placed on a person as punishment. Not a privilege like librarian is to Hannah here.” This little speech makes Hannah’s smug grin disappear.
“Sorry.” She says discouraged.
“That’s what I though.” He says grouchily.
“We’ll try to keep it down.” I say before Darius turns on his heels and trudges off into the depths of the library. We sit quietly for a few moments.
“So what did you do?” Hannah whispers, leaning across the table.
“Excuse me?” I whisper back, confused.
“What did you do to become the ‘Angel of Death’?”
“I really couldn’t tell you, I don’t even know myself.” I tell her this because I’m tired of explaining something I don’t know to people I don’t really know. “What did you do to obtain this sweet gig.” I whisper, giggling.
“I was raped and watched as my family was murdered. I couldn’t imagine life without them so I killed myself.” She says it so cooly, so calm. I can tell she’s tired of her story too.
“Oh.” I say not wanting to say anything but wanting her to know I was truly listening.
“It’s fine, you get over it, you have to. You can’t let that pain control your life.” She says slumping down into a near by seat. I follow, throwing myself into a overstuffed leather lounge chair. “I just wish I’d had that little thought before I’d killed myself.”
“There’s one thing that this life is filled with. Regret.”
“Don’t you just wish you could replace it with happiness?” Hannah ask playing with a strand of hair.
“Or better food.” I say laughing, Hannah laughs too.
“Yeah.” A bell dings somewhere in the books causing Hannah to jump out of her chair. “Someone needs help.” She says straitening her shirt. “I have to go, bye Emma.” She hurries off in the maze before I have time to answer her.
“Bye.” I mumble hauling myself out of the cushy leather.
Chapter Two


CHAPTER TWO

When I get to the hall way in front of my room I find Fisher sitting on the floor with his back pressed against his door, the red ball in hand. He throws it against my door as I draw closer.
“Hey Em.” His voice is cold, so I copy it with my own.
“Hi Fisher.”
“Where’d you disappear to tonight?”
“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” I answer snottily.
“I had someone I wanted you to meet.” He ignores my rudeness.
“Really?” I ask slightly intrigued.
“Yeah, I think you’ll like him.”
“What’s his name?” I asks, folding under my own curiosity.
“Sam.” A huge smile explodes across his face as he says this, like he’s won some kind of war. “He’s an Angel of Death too.”
“Oh, yeah, cause that’s what I want. Another murderer! We can start a club!” I says angrily.
“Whatever.” He says standing up.
“Whatever?”
“What? I’m not going to fight with you.” He bounces the ball off the wall, it whizzes past my head and I grab it out of the air before he can catch it again.
“Then don’t fight with me.” I say toss the ball to him. “Goodnight Fisher.”
“Goodnight Emma.” He says as I ease the door shut.

Two days till the ball, I thinks laying on my bed in my workout shorts. One week since I found out about Fisher and Chloe. The week had been horrible, I’d spent days in training and my nights in the library with Hannah. As well as avoiding Fisher and Chloe at all cost, even if that meant hiding in my room for hours while they stood in the hall talking. None of it mattered though, soon I’d be leaving the middle ground, heading back to Earth to do my job. And of course Sam would be coming with me, he would be my guide, there to make sure my ‘pull’ was for the right person. What luck. I could almost feel the time ticking by, first seconds then minutes till finally someone knocks on my door. It’s Sam.
Octavius had introduced us just a day after Fisher had told me about him. He was from the eighteen hundreds, he was born in 1845 and grew up in a wealthy house hold in Alabama (This made him have that swoon worth southern boy accent and the manners to match.). His father owned a large cotton plantation, with many slaves. When the Civil War started in 1861 his five older brothers joined the army and wanted him to lie about his age and join too, at sixteen he was to young to join but the plenty of boys his age were joining. Sam disagreed with his family’s beliefs, he didn’t think that someone could be judged by the color of their skin. So he hung himself, to keep out of the army and to get away from his racist family. When he reached The Middle Ground he was made an angel of death because the Elders decided that he had been cowardly in his choice of suicide, they had told him that he was gutless for not being able to stand up to his family.
I remember how dazzled I’d been just by the way he’d smiled. His messy brown hair was sticking out in all directions with a cute boyish quality. His face was a window into his personality, cute and boyish, those two words described him totally. Then came his eyes, amazingly b/d/r/a/i/r/g/k/h/t?????. I open the door now to see those eyes.
“Good morning Miss Emma.” Sam says smiling.
“Hello Samuel” He cringes when I use his full name.
“I’ve been told you will be practicing in the wood this morning.”
“Yay,” I say without enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to

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