There was something morbidly fascinating about watching Six prepare the bird for dinner. She was sitting cross legged on the floor, with the creature pulled into her lap. Harry had made things from scratch before, but this was far beyond that. It was almost hypnotic to watch her remove the fluffy feathers of the juvenile bird.

He wasn't sure it was a good thing that he found it so soothing, but he couldn't find it in him to care. Petty revenge never felt so sweet, and now he would get to see what it tasted like.

"Have you done this before?" he asked her. There was a small pile of feathers next to her as she sat there, almost mechanically removing them. His voice seemed to startle her for a second, as she looked up from her work.

"A few times. Nothing quite this big though. Mostly rats and pigeons," she responded, returning to her task. Harry grimaced at the thought of eating rats or their flying variants, but when needs must, he supposed.

And considering where they were, needs were very much a must.

"I see," he said, hoping he didn't let his disgust show. It must have come through, but Six was far from offended. In fact, she seemed rather amused by it.

"They're not as bad as you'd think. And after a day or two without food… Well, I can't say it was the best thing I've ever eaten, but it kept me alive."

Harry nodded at that. Survival was more important than the taste. But if given the choice, Harry would definitely prefer something to be tasty. Hopefully, the pile of meat Six was holding turned out to be just that.

"How did you learn how to do this?" he asked next. She paused in her task once more, but her gaze didn't lift to Harry's. His question seemed to stir something within her. A memory she longed to forget, yet was desperate to hold onto.

After a few moments, Harry began to get nervous, fearing he had upset his companion, "Hey, um, Six?"

His voice seemed to startle out of whatever memory she was lost in. She looked up at him with a blank expression, one with even less emotion than usual. He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

"Sorry… You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

She looked at him for a few seconds, before sighing in resignation, returning to defeathering their kill, "It's fine. An old… friend showed me how. She showed me a lot of things…" Six trailed off again, but refused to get lost in another memory.

"And what happened to her?" he asked. He regretted it almost immediately, from the angry look she gave him. He raised his arms in surrender, as she angrily plucked out another feather.

She pulled out a few more before responding, in a voice almost too quiet to be heard, "She got caught."

Nothing more needed to be said on the topic. Harry could guess what getting caught entailed, given his past experiences with such a thing. And he didn't just mean Dudley.

Harry gave her some time to regain her composure. It may not have seemed like she was upset, but Harry could tell the remembrance caused her a fair amount of pain.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he eventually asked. She looked at him again, thankful he didn't press the issue.

"Actually, there is. I need something sharp to cut this with. Can you look around to see if there's anything I could use?" she asked. While it was true she needed some kind of cutting instrument, she also wanted to be alone for a bit, even if it was for just a few minutes. This was just a convenient way to kill two birds with one cage.

"Sure, I'll see what I can find," he said, getting up from his seat on the cage. He looked around, deciding where to look first. Thinking it over, he should leave the top for last. No need to waste the energy if he found something down here.

He headed to the other side of the room, and began the search underneath the platform. There were several grimy, raggedy sheets piled up in a corner. With a grimace, he removed them one by one, until there was nothing left.

Underneath it all was a barren floor. That was a bust.

Next, he made his way over to some wooden crates nearby. He had no idea how they got here, as it should have been impossible, but now wasn't the time to question how this crazy world works. Actually, Harry wasn't sure there was a time. No matter when he did it, he was sure to be driven to the brink of insanity.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Harry jumped up, grabbing the crate's ledge and pulling himself up so he could peer inside. Thankfully it didn't have a lid, so it was easy for him to do so. Using his handy dandy flashlight when it was too hard to see, revealed a startling amount of nothing.

He was now 0/2. He quickly checked the rest of the boxes, only to meet a similar disappointment. Sighing, he looked around, only to find that there was nothing else to check.

Guess that means he had to search the second floor after all.

He was just thankful there was no monster chasing him this time, so he could take his time and not get any more splinters. His hands were in poor enough shape as it was, and his feet were even worse.

As he made it up to the top, he took in his surroundings. Over by the vent he spotted earlier was a dilapidated dresser, similar to the one he had to dismantle in the room he arrived in, with a cardboard box on top.

Over to his left was another pile of rags, and in the corner was a pile of wood that appeared to once have been a chair. There wasn't much up here either, unfortunately, and nothing that said sharp object yet. Hopefully he would find something in this room, and he wouldn't have to look elsewhere.

He started with the rags, but like the pile down below, revealed nothing of value. But at least these ones were cleaner than the ones underneath him, so he took this time to try and clean some of the bird's fluids off of him.

Unfortunately, a lot of it had dried by this point, but the simple action of doing it made him feel better, even if it was only psychologically.

He made his way to the pile of broken lumber in the corner next. But sifting through the debris proved to be a fruitless endeavor as well. Nothing but scrap wood.

That just leaves the dresser. Making his way toward it, he gazed impassively at the needlessly tall thing. Seriously, why was everything so big? Or was he just that small?

Didn't matter, and griping about it wouldn't help him in the slightest. It would only prove to stoke his ire, which would likely lead to him making a mistake. And mistakes could prove to be fatal in this world.

Harry first attempted to open the bottom drawer, not only to check its contents, but to also allow him to climb to the top. Like the dresser before it, it was difficult to open, though not quite as hard.

As he opened it, several moths flew out from inside, startling him. He watched as they danced in the sky, flying off out of sight. Harry held his chest, hoping to keep his rapidly beating heart inside. He was just thankful it wasn't another giant one. Fingers crossed they wouldn't grow that big as well. One of those things was more than enough.

But now he could properly look inside. Unfortunately, it didn't look like there was anything useful, at least not at the moment. Just a bunch of holey clothes, and none in his size. He even looked underneath them, but nothing.

Sighing, in disappointment, Harry tried to open the second drawer, only for it to stay firmly shut. No matter how hard he yanked and pulled, it remained stubbornly in place. Giving up with a frustrated huff, Harry took a moment to catch his breath.

With that avenue closed, he had little choice but to climb to the top. From this angle, he wouldn't be able to get a good enough grip to open the third drawer.

So that's what he did. He squatted down before leaping to the top, grabbing the edge and hauling himself up. Now that he was up here, he might as well check the box. Maybe he would get lucky.

Or not. Looking inside, he was surprised to see a bowling ball of all things. Why was this thing here? Did monsters like to bowl? Harry didn't know the answer, and even if he did, it likely wouldn't help him. Best to not think about it.

But now, he had no other choice but to check the last drawer. He made his way back to the ledge, grimacing at the feeling of the dresser top. Why was it sticky? Just another thing it was best not to think about.

Harry got down onto his belly, and grabbed ahold of the top of the drawer. Thankfully, it was open just enough to slide his tiny finger into. With that, he could use his forearms like a crowbar and open it.

It seems he finally caught a lucky break, as the drawer slid open fairly easily. The easiest one so far in fact. And his luck didn't end there, as a beer bottle rolled to the end of the drawer.

Always the last place you looked.

While it wasn't exactly what he was looking for, seeing it did give Harry an idea. While it wasn't sharp at the moment, he knew for a fact that broken glass could very easily cut you. He learned that lesson personally, as the scar on his could attest.

All he needed to do now was break it. But how to do that? Throwing it off the top of the dresser was unlikely to produce results. Bottles like that tended to be pretty thick, and it took a surprising amount of force to shatter them.

He could throw it off the platform onto the bottom floor. While he was sure that would break it, having a bunch of glass they could step on wasn't ideal either. One scar on his foot was enough, thank you very much.

But what else could he do? Harry pondered this, even as he grabbed the bottle from the drawer. A bottle that was nearly the same size as him, so it took a bit of effort. Setting it down on the sticky dresser top, he looked around once more for any kind of idea.

And that's when his gaze fell on the box. The box containing a bowling ball. Yes, that should do nicely.

Harry grabbed the bottle once more and moved to the edge of the dresser, the left side this time, rather than the front. He tossed the bottle down, and like he thought, it refused to break. And worse, it rolled away from where he wanted it.

With another sigh of resignation, one laced with irritation born from weariness. He glared at the offending object as it came to a stop, seemingly mocking him. He would have his revenge soon enough.

Six looked up to the platform above her, listening as her companion cursed about something. She wasn't sure kids their age should be using that kind of language, but she wouldn't judge him for it.

Harry grunted from the jarring impact as he jumped down to the ground. Maybe he should have just climbed down the front, it would have been easier on the knees. Oh well, too late now.

Harry grabbed the offending object once more and placed it right where he wanted it. "Good, now stay," he commanded with a firm nod. Satisfied that it wouldn't move again, Harry made his way back to the top of the dresser, ready to carry out the bottle's execution.

Staring at the cardboard box, Harry took a moment to contemplate how he would remove the bowling ball. He could try to just flip the box over, but if the bowling ball got away from him, he definitely wouldn't be able to bring it back up. Especially if it fell to the floor below.

His best bet would be to rip a side of the cardboard off, and roll it out. Nodding his head at the plan, he proceeded to do just that. Thankfully, not only was he ripping up cardboard, which was easy enough, it was also fairly rotten, making it even easier. In no time, he had his instrument of violence.

With an eager grin, Harry rolled the bowling ball into position. It might not have been entirely appropriate given the situation, but what boy wouldn't be excited to break something?

He gave one last look at the intact bottle below, shifting the ball into position, before he rolled it off. He held his breath for a moment as the ball descended toward his target, before it struck it dead center. Harry had a wide smile on his face at the wanton destruction. There was just something satisfying about it.

But of course, Harry's luck seemed to be attached to a pendulum. Hiss good luck in finding something they could use to cut the meat had to be balanced by something. He figured being chased by monstrous creatures would have been enough, but apparently, he was mistaken.

The ball below did the exact thing he was worried about, it started to roll. He watched as it headed straight for the edge of the platform. There was nothing he could do at this point, it was moving too fast. All he could do was shout a warning down to Six, and hope she wasn't beneath it.

"Six! Watch out!"

Looking up towards the shout, Six's eyes widened as she watched a bowling ball roll off the platform almost nonchalantly. It fell straight down and embedded itself into the semi rotten wood floor.

The red eyed girl flinched as tiny splinters flew in every direction. She was just glad she was far enough away that none of them hit her. Looking at the spot of impact, she could see sharp, jagged pieces of wood sticking out in every direction with the top of the bowling ball barely visible.

"Six, you ok!?" yelled Harry from above. She leveled a glare at the boy, who was staring down at her on his belly. She wasn't only upset by the fact that he could have squished her, but also for the fact that he was shouting. That was never a good idea.

Perhaps it didn't matter, considering the loud bang the ball made on impact, but it still wasn't a good habit to get into. It seems she would need to teach him the finer points of survival if he was going to last.

"I'm fine. What are you doing up there?" she asked in a much quieter voice. It was plenty loud enough to be heard, and that was all that was necessary. Anything else would only prove a detriment.

Harry looked relieved as she responded. He was worried for a second there. "Thank goodness. I found a glass bottle and had to break it. You think that will work to cut the meat?" he asked in a much lowered tone.

Perhaps Six was wrong and he was only shouting due to concern over her. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Her chest felt warm and tight at the thought. It was uncomfortable, yet she didn't want to let the sensation go.

Just what was it?

She shook those thoughts out of her head. Now wasn't the time for such things, she still had stuff to do. What was he saying again, something about glass?

Oh right, she needed something to cut the meat. "That should be fine," she said. That explains the sound of breaking glass and the rather loud thump she heard as well. He must have used the bowling ball to break the bottle. Not the worst idea she's ever heard, but making that much noise just made her feel all itchy.

"Ok, I'll be down in a minute," he told her. She watched as his messy head of hair disappeared. His timing couldn't be better, she was nearly done preparing the carcass. Now she just had to hope it tasted ok, but she wasn't all that hopeful.

Harry made his way back to the pile of broken glass and began to sift through the debris. Most of it wasn't useful, but he did manage to find a few pieces that should work, including one that was nice and long, nearly the size of an actual carving knife.

Or at least, in comparison to his body size. He was still getting used to how everything here seemed to be confused about how big it wanted to be. Regardless, he had a few pieces that should satisfy his companion.

Grabbing them, he made sure to handle them gingerly, not wanting to slice open his hand. Thinking about it, that would be a bigger problem for Six wouldn't it? She was the one who had to use them after all.

But what could he do?

Looking around, he got an idea when he spotted the open drawer. He made his way over to it and began looking through the clothes that were far too big for him. He was still a bit salty about that.

"Aha," he whispered as he found something that should work. A pair of shorts with pockets. She could slip the piece of glass into the pocket and use it as a handle. Hopefully, that would help prevent her from hurting herself. That was the last thing he wanted or they needed.

They were beaten up enough, thank you very much.

Nodding to himself, he made his way back to the makeshift ladder and carefully climbed down. There was no reason to speed his way down and every reason to be cautious. He didn't want to break the glass he was carrying or even worse, land on them. So he traveled at a sedate pace.

Reaching the bottom, he walked back to Six, who was just finishing up removing the feather and fluff from the body. Or at least, half of it. He gave her a confused look as hse seemed to be finished. "You're not removing it all?" he asked.

She gave him a look that made him feel a bit simple. "There's no point. We can't eat it all or take it with us without it spoiling. Unless you can do something about that?" she asked, giving him a pointed stare.

Harry raised his eyebrow, wondering what she meant by that. "Uh, not that I know of," he said. She continued to stare at him for a moment, before seeming to accept his words.

"Then we don't need to cut it all up. Speaking of, you mentioned something about glass," she said. It was Harry's turn to stare at her, but she just met his gaze unflinching. The air seemed thick, and a tension seemed to build up between them.

"Six… Is everything ok?" he asked, but that only seemed to make the tension even thicker. Harry didn't like the feeling, and he couldn't figure out what was wrong. She just stared at him, and he could see the questions dancing in her eyes, but she never gave voice to them.

"If it's about earlier, I'm sorry. The bowling ball just got away from me," he said, thinking that was what had her so mad. She looked confused for a second, before her stare turned into a glare.

He just made it worse didn't he?

"That's not it," she said, in a terse, abrupt manner.

"Then what is it?" he asked.

She regarded him for a moment, before sighing. She wasn't sure how to ask about the powers without it sounding like some kind of accusation. She lacked the social grace to do so. Her only option was to ask and explain any misunderstandings as they came.

"When we were running from the monster, you did something. You used some kind of power to throw me," she said. Harry looked confused for a moment, before a flash of recognition lit up his eyes. And with that recognition came a bout of nervousness.

This was exactly what she was trying to avoid.

"Oh that… I completely forgot about that with the whole, you know, getting eaten thing," he said. When it seemed like she wouldn't let up, he sighed before taking a seat of his own, leaning back against the cage and carefully setting the glass down.

"So… what do you want to know?" he asked.

She gave him a look before nodding, happy that he wasn't trying to avoid the subject. That would make things far easier in the long run.

"First, what was it?" she asked. She watched as he stared into his hands, seemingly lost in thought. She had no problem waiting for him to answer, as long as he did answer, that was fine. They had time.

Eventually he seemed to find the words to begin, "Honestly, I'm not too sure myself. If I had to make a guess or just give it a name, I'd call it magic."

Six raised her own eyebrow at that. Magic? She supposed it fit. It wasn't like that was the first time she's ever seen something strange or extraordinary. Honestly, half the weird things she saw here could be called magic.

"I see. How long have you been able to use it?" she asked next.

Harry gave her a surprised look, "You believe me?"

She nodded her head in response, "I've seen enough in this house alone to believe something as simple as magic. Some of the monsters here can use weird powers as well."

Now that really grabbed his attention, "Really?"

"Really," she stated simply. When it seemed like that wasn't enough, she huffed and began to explain. Wasn't he the one who was supposed to answer her questions?

Well whatever.

"The one in charge here, the one we call The Pretender, can use some kind of magic as well. Or so I've heard. She can make things just disappear. Then there's The Butler. He has some kind of psychic power. He can lift things with his mind. He mostly uses it to do his chores around the house, but if he catches you…."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

She left that hanging, but Harry got the jist of it. He didn't need the nightmare fuel of what someone with psychic powers could do to you if you were caught. It was good information nonetheless.

"Your turn," Six stated, bringing Harry out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" he asked, confused.

Six rolled her eyes before asking her question again, "How long have you had them?"

"Oh," he said, remembering her question now. "Forever I think. The earliest I remember using them was when I was four and my aunt cut my hair. It was awful, and I hated the thought of going to school the next day looking like I got into a fight with a lawnmower and lost."

"So you would have been fine with it if you looked like you won the fight?" Six asked with a small smirk.

Harry gave her a surprised look from her teasing, but chuckled at the gibe, "Of course. That would have been something to brag about."

They looked at each other with mirth dancing in their eyes, the previous tension completely evaporating. Harry was immensely relieved that she didn't seem to think any less of him for his power.

"Anyway, when I woke up the next day, my hair was completely back to normal. You couldn't even tell the difference. They weren't very happy about that…" Harry trailed off, becoming silent. His eyes seemed to stare at something far away, something that only he could see.

Six seemed to realize something had changed, as the amusement in her eyes was replaced with concern. "Hairy…" she said with a hint of trepidation. This was a few miles past her comfort zone.

"Hmm?" he responded, his thousand yard stare never wavering. She watched as his mouth seemed to twitch every so often, and he flinched at sounds that weren't there. She needed to bring him back from wherever he wandered off to.

So, going against every instinct in her body, she moved closer to him, which was somewhat difficult considering she had a massive bird in her lap, and clapped loudly in front of his face.

That seemed to snap him out of whatever memory held him hostage.

"Six?" he said with confusion, as if he was surprised to find her there. Looking around, he seemed to remember where he was, clenching his fists as his whole body tensed up.

"Are you back?" she asked, eyes never leaving his form. She watched as he seemed to wrestle with himself, his body trembling like he was out in a blizzard.

"Y-yeah, sorry," he mumbled. It was more than clear to Six that he was not ok, but it also seemed like he didn't want to talk about it. She couldn't exactly fault him for that, considering she had her own memories she would like to keep under lock and key.

So she didn't push him. Instead, she simply took a seat next to him, resting her own back against the cage, and waited for him to settle down. It took a few minutes before he finally managed to release the tension.

Even so, they remained sitting there in silence, neither knowing what to say. Harry was grateful for her being there, her presence comforting him. It made him feel… well he didn't know what he was feeling, but he knew he liked it.

"That morning, when they saw my hair had regrown, they were… displeased," Harry started. Six turned to look at him, seeing him staring at nothing in particular. But it wasn't because he was trapped within a memory this time, it just made it easier for him to tell the story.

Good, she was worried she would have to slap him if he got lost again.

"My uncle in particular hated anything that was even remotely abnormal. He thought my haircut was hilarious, said it was how a freak should look. So when I came out of my cupboard, he was angry. His whole face turned a shade of red I've only ever seen on a tomato."

Harry then drew his knees to his chest. Six knew he was about to say something rather unpleasant, but she didn't have it in her to stop it. She could tell he needed to get it off his chest.

"He grabbed me by my newly regrown hair, and dragged me to the couch. He then ripped my shirt off and told me to keep my hands on the back, don't move. I didn't. I heard him remove his belt. He said this is what freaks deserve, and then he… he didn't stop. No matter how much I screamed, he just kept going. Over and over again, until my back was covered in red. I never made it to school that day."

By this point the trembling was back, and Harry was doing everything in his power to calm himself down. But no matter what he did, neither the shaking nor the tears would stop. He hated it, hated feeling so weak due to what those people did to him.

Six was way out of her depth. If she thought she was out of her comfort zone before, well she just found a whole new area code. What was she supposed to do now? Did she hug him? Hold his hand? Do nothing at all?

She wasn't sure she was ready for hugs just yet. Sure, they were pretty close while running from the bird, but that situation was completely different. And he was the one who grabbed her! Not to mention the dried bird saliva all over him. No, hugs would be postponed until he got a bath, and even then, she wasn't sure about it.

She could hold his hand, that wasn't so bad last time. Actually, it was somewhat pleasant, but she still wasn't sure about it.

She quietly screamed in her head as she couldn't decide what to do, until it was too late. She heard him sniffle and wipe his nose on his shirt, the one that was way too big for him. He finally seemed to calm himself down.

That was a good thing, so why did she feel so disappointed?

"Sorry you had to see me like that," Harry said. He was embarrassed by showing that side of himself to someone he barely knew. He'd never done that before, but for some reason, he felt safe around her. He couldn't explain it.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," she responded. What else could she say?

"Anyway, since then I've only ever used my power in this world. The first time was in a castle. I teleported to safety when this monster I call The Leecher, dropped me into a moat to feed its young," he told her.

Six shivered at the thought of being dropped into a mass of writhing leeches. Those things are just nasty. Him being able to teleport was far more interesting, but she couldn't figure out what hair growth had in common with that skill. Or could magic do whatever he wanted it to do?

"Weird power set," she commented, causing him to snicker.

"I guess you could say that," he said, eyes once more filled with a bit of mirth, no matter how red they were from crying.

"What about you?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow in confusion, "What about me?"

"Any weird powers?" he asked.

She looked at him for a moment unsure of how to respond. She's been told she was unnaturally quick on her feet, agile like a cat. It didn't seem to help her much on the bridge in the other room, even though she seemed to have it easier than her companion. But that could be chalked up to experience.

"I don't know," she said after a minute of thinking.

Harry couldn't lie, he was a bit disappointed by that. He was hoping to have found someone like himself. Not that he thought any less of her for it, but still…

"If it's not too personal, mind telling me how you got here? I came in a hot air balloon," Harry told her. She gave him a look that said, "Really?" He shrugged in response, looking a bit sheepish.

"I don't really remember. All I can remember is a man. Or no, not really a man, but it had a man's voice. It was so deep, and it sounded like there were a thousand voices speaking at once," Six said. Harry's eyes widened in shock.

"Hang on, was he wearing a fisherman's hat and jacket, with saggy gray skin melted down to his waist?" Harry asked. Now it was Six's turn to look surprised.

"How did you… You've seen him too?" she asked.

"The Ferryman… Yeah, he's the one who brought me here. He followed me in my dreams for months," Harry told her.

That revelation opened up a whole new can of worms. If it was true that the same creature brought them both here, that would mean there had to be a reason. It couldn't just be for its amusement could it?

And did that mean every kid was brought here the same way? Was her old friend brought here the same way? Six couldn't remember ever asking her, but if she was…

Harry wasn't sure what to make of it either. He just figured it was his own personal monster, but it turns out he was a two timer. The nerve.

But what was the reason? What was the common denominator? Harry just assumed it was because of his powers, but if Six really didn't have any, then he had no idea. Unless she just never used them before, even by accident, but in this land of nightmares, that seemed unlikely.

Or maybe they were sealed? Placed behind a mental cage with lock and key. Harry wasn't sure if such a thing was even possible, but considering where he was at the moment, he couldn't dismiss the thought outright.

"So there's one person, or one thing, that brings kids into a nightmare? Why?" Harry asked. Six wished she had an answer, but she didn't. It was just one more mystery to solve.

Come to think of it, weren't there pictures of him in this place? She's pretty sure she's seen him somewhere before, but she wasn't entirely certain.

"I don't know," she responded to him.

"Could it have something to do with where we were before?" Harry postulated. Six gave him a look, a feeling of trepidation gnawing at her insides.

"What do you mean?" she asked back.

"Before coming here, I lived with my relatives. And I think you know they didn't like me very much," Harry started, as Six nodded in agreement. Judging from his earlier story, if they did like him, then they were weirder than anything she's seen in this place.

"The Ferryman… He made me an offer. Gave me a choice. I could either stay with my relatives, or…"

"Or you could come here," Six finished, as Harry nodded in confirmation. So he chose to come here willingly? Six couldn't imagine ever doing that. But she wasn't as sure about that as she would like to be. Especially if she came from somewhere similar.

"What about you? Did you choose to come here?" Harry asked. Six wanted to deny that, tell him that she would never come to this place. But she couldn't. A niggling sensation in the back of her head prevented that.

"I… don't know," she said in a whisper. "I can't remember."

Harry gave her a confused look, "You can't remember?" How could she not remember? The memory was still pretty fresh in Harry's mind. Which made sense, considering it was just a couple days ago.

Six shook her head in the negative, answering Hary's question. She stared off into the distance, focusing on a knot in the wall, her expression blank. She tried to remember anything that would make her choose this place over somewhere else, but she couldn't.

What could have been so bad that she would willingly come here? Choose this horrible, blood stained world over the other? She couldn't remember, and maybe that was for the best.

But though she couldn't recall her life in the old world, she could remember her time in this one. While trying to remember something of her old life, a different memory surfaced, one of her deceased friend.

They were in a room much like this one, having a similar conversation as well. She asked her about her life before here, and her friend told her she didn't remember. But that wasn't the interesting part. No, what was interesting, was the reason why.

She turned back to Harry, who was giving her a concerned look. A familiar warmth entered her chest at the look, but she pushed it down. Now wasn't the time for that.

"You remember asking about my friend?" Six asked, and Harry nodded in confirmation. It wasn't that long ago after all.

"Yeah, what about her?"

Six seemed to gather her thoughts before she spoke, "We had a conversation like this one. I asked her the same thing, about her life before here, but she didn't remember either."

Harry's eyebrows raised that. "So, it's not just you?"

She shook her head, "No. I think it happens to everyone. We forget. Or this world takes it away. That's what she thought anyway."

The two of them sat in silence once more, pondering that revelation. It was a scary thought, losing your memories. Memories are what made you, you. Without them, you might as well be someone completely different.

All around them, shadows moved and danced across the wall, encroaching on the two of them. Everything seemed to get a touch darker, a touch colder. Like the world itself was mocking them.

Looking over at his companion, he could see the same worry deep in her eyes. The same fear of losing the thing that made her, her. Maybe he could do something about it. Whenever he was scared before, no one ever tried to help. He was just left alone in the darkness of his cupboard.

He wouldn't leave her alone. The shadows would not take her.

"Hey, Six," Harry said, getting her attention. She turned to him and was surprised to see him looking at her with kind eyes. He reached out to her, offering his hand.

She looked at it conflicted, before tentatively reaching out. Slowly, her hand found its way in his, and the world around them seemed to get a bit brighter, a bit warmer. The shadows retreated as if they were burned, hiding away in cracks and corners unseen.

"If this world wants to take our memories, we'll just have to make more than it can take. I don't know who or what or why, but something wants us here. And whatever it is, whatever it wants, we can't let it take away what it means to be us. So what do you say? Want to make some memories with me?" he asked.

She gazed into his eyes, his vibrant emerald eyes, and saw no sign of deceit. No lie to be found. He meant everything he said. That familiar warmth was there again, only this time it was nearly scalding. Just what was this feeling?

But she didn't have time to contemplate it any longer. Hairy was waiting for her to answer. And she felt there was only one answer she could give.

"I think I'd like that Hairy."

Harry's smile was beaming at this point, and even Six had a small sincere smile on her face. It wasn't big, but it made Harry overjoyed that he was the reason for it. Just getting that much emotion out of her felt like pulling teeth.

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a bit, before a loud growl ruined the moment. Looking for the source, the two of them discovered it was coming from none other than Harry's stomach.

Looking back at her, Harry gave a sheepish smile as she looked at him with amusement. "Oh right, we were making dinner weren't we?"

Six rolled her eyes, but the mirth never left them, "Yes, and didn't you bring me something?"

His eyes lit up at the reminder, "Oh yeah!"

He let go of her hand, something she didn't want to admit left her feeling a bit empty. Harry quickly grabbed the glass before turning back around to face her. "I got these. I hope they'll work."

Six inspected the glass shards in his hand. It would be difficult, but they should work. She would just have to be careful not to leave any glass in the meat. That was the last thing they needed.

"They should. But what are the shorts for?" she asked, staring at the offending object.

"Oh, I thought you could use them as a handle. Like this, see?" he said, before placing the largest glass shard into one of the pockets, leaving it half exposed and wrapping the remaining cloth around it.

"Good idea," she acquiesced. It should help prevent her from cutting herself, something she would rather avoid. Accepting the makeshift knife, Six stood up, followed by Harry.

"Ok, while I prepare the meat, can you get the stuff we need for the fire?" she asked. Harry nodded. That was simple enough, he already knew where a bunch of wood was, but there was one problem.

"How are we supposed to light it?" he asked. Six reached into her pocket and pulled out a small lighter.

"Ah, that'll do it," he said. Six rolled her eyes again, with a slight grin on her face, as she turned to complete her task. Stretching his arms out, Harry did the same.

"Hey, Hairy," Six said before he could get too far. He turned back around and gave her an inquisitive look. "Yeah?"

She hesitated for a moment, before asking him another question that was bothering her. Probably the one that was bothering her the most. "Your power… Why did you use it to save me and not yourself?"

Harry gave her a confused look, before understanding flashed in his eyes. The reason? He wasn't sure, not really. Maybe he just didn't want to be alone anymore and figured dying was better than that.

No, there was more to it than that. The real reason? It was simple when he thought about it. He wondered earlier what Six was to him. Seems like they would both be getting an answer.

"Because you're my friend."

He gave her one last smile before heading off to complete his task, never noticing the surprised look on his friend's face.

His first stop was to gather all the nasty cloth on the bottom floor, figuring that would make for good starter fuel. Next, he tried to remove some of the wood planks from the wooden crates. Thankfully he was able to pull them off fairly easily, as the wood was the exact opposite of dense. It also broke off into pieces of various sizes, which was good. He collected them in a pile near the cage.

After that, he climbed back up to the second floor, before throwing the pieces of wood down, making sure they weren't anywhere near Six. This wood felt quite a bit heavier and denser, so it would probably be added after the fire was already going.

His next stop was the dresser. He climbed back up and gathered the cardboard box, tossing it down like the rest. That would definitely make good starter fuel.

Now, was there anything else? Looking around, he didn't see any more wood, which was a shame, but he did see wallpaper. While it wouldn't help keep the fire going, it was just what the doctor ordered to get it started.

After that, he made his way down and started to build the fire. He placed the wallpaper down first, crumbled into little balls, and placed the cardboard on top after tearing it into strips. Then he grabbed the thin wood planks and placed the smallest pieces on top of the cardboard.

The last thing he did was take rolled up strips of cloth and nestle them in between the wood planks. If everything went to plan, it should start fairly easy. But just in case, he saved some wallpaper and cardboard.

With his task done, his gaze fell on Six. She had managed to get a few strips cut out, but it was clear it was a struggle to do so. While glass was certainly sharp enough to cut someone, and quite easily at that, it wasn't meant to carve up something like this.

He watched as she grunted, forcing the glass into the body, being careful not to cut herself, and sawing away as best she could at the meat. The whole ordeal left her out of breath.

"Hey Six, do you want some help?" Harry asked. While he meant it in a kind way, Six seemed to take offense to the notion, glaring up at him.

"Does it look like I need help?" she questioned in a gruff voice. Now, Harry wasn't the brightest person in the world, he would freely admit that, but even he could tell he was walking on a landmine.

"Uh, no?" he said. She continued to glare at him before huffing and returning to her work. With nothing else left to do, Harry just waited for her to finish. He couldn't say it really bothered him, considering he could smell the flesh from here.

He really hoped it tasted better than it smelled.

After about thirty minutes she was done, and in desperate need of a bath, just like him. Her hands were covered in blood. Luckily she wasn't completely coated, but it was enough to warrant a thorough cleansing.

Six sighed as she stood, shaking her hands to try and get the feeling back into them. That was far more difficult than she thought it would be, but she was far too stubborn to quit. She should have accepted her friend's help, but since they divided their labor, and Hairy was able to complete his job, she felt like she needed to as well.

Not to mention eating it was her suggestion in the first place.

Looking down at her handiwork, she managed to get six decent sized strips of flesh. They were jagged and uneven, but it was the best she could do given the circumstances. Not that the appearance of the meat mattered much.

And no, she did not stop there just because of the number. That was just a coincidence. Now all they had to do was cook them up and dinner was served.

"Hey, why don't you hand me your lighter and I'lll get the fire started. You can clean some of the blood off with that cloth over there," Harry proposed. Six thought it over for a moment before nodding her head at the suggestion.

She rummaged around her pocket before retrieving her lighter and handing it over to him. She had a small smirk on her face as he grimaced from the blood covering her hand, and now the lighter.

As Six went to go clean herself to the best of her abilities, Harry took the lighter and made his way to the cage. He flicked the lighter on, admiring the small, flickering flame for a moment. He carefully bent down and lit the wallpaper, which took off as easily as he expected it to.

Closing the lighter, Harry began to lightly blow on the flames. Sure enough, it didn't take much time at all before the small pieces of wood caught fire. He let them burn for a minute before he slowly added larger and larger pieces, until he had a good sized fire.

This was one of the few lessons Harry ever received from his uncle, and he wasn't even meant to get it. The lesson was meant for Dudley, not him. Vernon taught Dudley how to start a fire in the fireplace because such things were, "men's work" as he called them.

Luckily, Harry just so happened to be in the kitchen, doing what his uncle would call "women's work", so he was able to sit in on the lecture. He was far better than his cousin at it. When Dudley tried to start a fire, he nearly burned the house down.

Six had returned some time ago and was just watching Harry complete his task. Once the fire was going good and proper, he closed the cage door, leaving a square grid they could cook the meat over. Six had never done it this way, and not with something so big, so she was a tad bit nervous about burning the meat.

But then again, that might not be such a bad thing. They didn't need any surprises popping out of it. That one time with the rat was enough. She shivered just thinking about it.

"Well, that should do it. What do you think?" Harry asked her. She shook the memory of the parasite erupting out of a dead rat out of her mind. She looked at the fire and nodded her head. "Yeah, that should do it."

She grabbed the pieces of meat, two at a time, and laid them across the cage. She wasn't sure where the best place to cook them was, so she placed them in different spots. Though, none of them were directly above the flame. Now she just needed to watch them and adjust as necessary.

The two of them worked together to cook their meal. Whenever the flame was getting too low, Harry would slide a piece of wood through one of the holes. And if he couldn't do that, he would wrap a piece of cloth around his hand until it was good and thick, before lifting up the edge of the cage so Six could slide a piece in.

Six meanwhile, watched the meat like a hawk, using a second shard of glass to flip and rotate the meat whenever she thought it was needed. Soon enough, they had some kind of meal in front of them.

They couldn't hold all of it at once, so they left a couple pieces on the edge, away from the fire. They used the glass shards to hold up the hot pieces of meat, waiting for it to cool down before they dug it.

Harry's stomach growled once more in anticipation. He gave Six a look, and she returned it with one that said, "you first"'.

Rolling his eyes, Harry brought the slightly charred meat to his mouth before taking a bite. Thankfully, it was thoroughly cooked.

"Juicy," was the first thought that popped into his head. That was a good thing, considering they had nothing to drink. The next thing he noticed was the texture. He was expecting something like chicken, considering it was a bird and all, but that was not the case. It was more like a pork chop.

The last thing was the taste. While it wasn't bad, it also wasn't particularly good either. Like a mixture of bacon, bubblegum, and grease. Like it came from a fast food place that just mixed a bunch of stuff together hoping for the best.

So that's what revenge tasted like.

He couldn't say he would ever want to eat it again, but for the moment, he was content to just get something in his belly.

Six watched him carefully, waiting for any sign of discomfort or sickness. When the only thing she noticed was the confused faces he was making as he chewed, she relaxed a bit.

He gave Six a nod when he noticed her looking at him. Seeing that he wasn't going to give her more than that, she rolled her eyes before taking a bite. Now it was Harry's turn to be amused by her own expression. Nothing could really prepare you for that first bite.

"Well, I don't know if I'd call this good, but at least it seems edible," he said, taking another bite. Six nodded her head in agreement, "That's all you can really ask for."

The two ate in silence for a while, simply enjoying the odd food and each other's company. When they went for seconds, Harry asked a question that's been bugging him for awhile.

"So Six, where are we exactly? What is this place?"

She turned to him as she took a bite from her second piece. After swallowing, she answered his question, "It's called the Nest. Why, I don't know. It's a massive mansion on top of a cliff in the middle of the ocean."

She gave him a moment to digest that information as she took another bite.

"I see. And how long have you been here?" he asked next. Six took a moment to think about it. How long has she been here?

"Hm… months. I'm not sure how many exactly," she said.

"My guess is six," Harry said with a cheeky grin. She just rolled her eyes at him.

"Have you tried to escape?" was his next question.

That made her sigh, "Easier said than done. You can't just walk out the front door, everyone who's tried that got caught. Jumping out the windows doesn't work either. The only way is a secret passage in the basement, but that presents its own problems."

"How come?"

"First off, nobody is sure where it is. Only one person has ever seen it and she's not around anymore," Six explained with a bit of pain in her voice. Harry imagined it must have been her friend she mentioned.

"And even if you do know where it is, you can't open it. It needs some kind of keys. And third, the basement is where the Craftsman lives. No one's exactly eager to enter his domain."

A foreboding silence fell over the duo. The only sound was the crackle of the dying fire.

"Well, if we can't escape, maybe we should just get rid of them and take over," Harry suggested. It was mostly in jest, but if that was the only way, he was willing to try.

Six snorted at the suggestion, "You're not the only one to suggest that. You're also not the only one with powers." The Pretender and The Butler were the ones she knew about. Who knows what else may be lurking in the shadows.

The warning was loud and clear. The chances of them succeeding was slim to none. So if that was the case, they would just have to find those keys then.

"Well if we can't beat em, then we need to find those keys. Any idea what they look like?" he asked.

"I can't be sure. No one's ever seen one. But supposedly they take the shape of an eye."

"An eye huh?" Harry thought to himself. Why did that sound familiar? It took him a moment to remember. The attic! It was right before he was attacked by the giant moth. He found something shaped like an eye made of bronze.

Harry quickly dug around his pockets, as Six looked on in confusion. He finally found what he was looking for, thanking whatever deity existed that he didn't lose it inside of a giant bird. He held the thing out to Six, eyes sparkling in triumph.

"Is this one of the keys, do you think?"

Six stared at the object in his hand with a sense of wonder. Could it really be… After all this time, her new friend just so happens to find one? On his first day here? Six wasn't sure if she should be happy or annoyed by that fact.

But if it was in the attic, something else that no one has ever found, then it would make sense. But she's been looking for so long, she was almost ready to give up. And now, here one is, hand delivered. She could almost cry.

Almost.

"It looks like it would fit, based on what I was told, but I can't be sure. We'd have to find the exit first," she said. Looking at the shiny, beat up object in his hand, Six couldn't stop the emotion that sprang from her chest. It was one she had long thought abandoned, yet here it is again.

Hope.

"That makes sense. And there's no point in looking for that until we've found the other one," Harry said, while rubbing his unruly hair. Six nodded in agreement. She didn't want to find the door only to have to backtrack to find the key and then find the door again. She wanted to spend the least amount of time she could in the basement. That place was where the real nightmares were born.

"Hey, Hairy…" Six said, never taking her eyes off the object in his hand.

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind if I… Could I hold it?" she asked in a small voice. She hated how desperate she sounded, but part of her still didn't believe it was real. The hope she felt bubbling to the surface scared her more than any monster.

Harry gave her a soft smile, "Sure. Oh, and you can have this back too," he said, giving her back her lighter.

Six stared at the object that was now in her hand. The eye, not the lighter. Part of her couldn't believe he would actually hand it over, that he would trust her enough with something so precious. This was the key to their freedom after all.

Literally.

But she was grateful nonetheless. She gingerly traced the scratches in the metal, fingers moving over every curve. She didn't understand why this place was so obsessed with eyes. The doors, paintings, sculptures, and she couldn't forget the security measures. Eyes seemed to be very important to someone.

But she liked this one. Not only because it was essential for her to escape this wretched place, but she also found herself endeared to the color. It was an emerald, the exact same shade as her new friend's eyes.

And that was another thing she never thought she would have again. A friend. And this one brought such wonderful gifts. Perhaps her luck was finally starting to change.

Perhaps this world wasn't quite as rotten as she thought.