A/N: this is a story I wrote about two years ago, when I was fourteen. It was short listed for the Somerset College Celebration of Literature Novella Prize 2004 (a national competition in Australia). I like it, but at the same time, it needs a lot of editing. Still, I hope you enjoy it, all feedback welcome.

Chapter One

The ceiling had great cracks running through it. When the weaving veins of plaster intersected they seemed to form pictures. One looked like a face. It leered down at her.

“Troublesome life, isn’t it?” it asked with mock sympathy.

She closed her eyes, but it persisted.

“You hate this. This room. This house. This street. The whole world, right? You want to kill something. It’s smothering you, isn’t it?”

Shut up, she willed it. Stop it.

“It’s ok. You know me. You know me well. What’s my name?’ it coaxed. She tried to block it out of her mind.

“Come now, that won’t do! Look at me!”

Her gaze lifted against her will. It stared at her with demon eyes.

“Say my name!” it ordered.

Darkness, the girl shrieked in her mind. You are Darkness!

The cat watched her while she packed. Items were flung into her suitcase helter skelter. Through her tears, the girl could hardly see what she was holding.

The cat yawned. “Well, you asked for this, didn’t you?” its eyes seemed to sneer. “You said you didn’t belong here.”

The girl peered at her hands, trying to decipher the name on the wooden chest they held.

‘Gwendolyn Nixon’.

Her name. She hardly knew that part of herself anymore. She dropped the chest into her suitcase and sat abruptly on the edge of her bed.

Although it seemed like years ago, Gwendolyn knew it had only been two weeks since that momentous conversation with her aunt.

It had been a clear skied day, but Gwen’s heart had been too troubled to notice the pleasant atmosphere.

“I know you don’t like it here,” her aunt had sighed, after Gwen had once again refused her dinner. “But I do wish you’d try.”

“It’s just…I just don’t belong here.” Gwen had forced the words out of her mouth with some difficulty. She didn’t want to hurt the kind woman. And no matter how out of place she felt here, it was still better than home.

“There’s a place I know of…it’s a boarding house for…troubled youths…” her aunt had said hesitantly. “Perhaps if you went there? Maybe you just need a rest?”

Gwen had only looked at her. The woman thought she was crazy. And that was when the tears had started. Since then, they had hardly stopped.

She didn’t know her place in the world. The cat stood on the bed and stretched.

“Then find your place and get on with it,” the tilt of its head advised.

Perhaps her aunt was right. Perhaps she truly was crazy.

The boarding house was not as large as Gwen had expected. It was about the size of a small mansion, but the grounds looked extensive. Considering it was in the middle of nowhere, it did not seem to be lacking in comfort.

The taxi-driver dumped her and her bag outside the front door and then whirled away in a cloud of dust.

Gwen stood regarding the door apprehensively, clutching the handle of her suitcase.

Then, gathering herself together, she trudged up to the wooden knocker and glanced at the carved lion’s head that graced the curve of timber. It did not seem welcoming.

Lifting the knocker, she thudded it into the door thrice. For a moment, there was silence. Then she heard a pattering of footsteps, and the door creaked open. A head peeped around the heavy oak to gape at her. A young girl, probably a year or so older than Gwen, stood before her.

“New kid, huh?” the girl asked, looking her up and down. “Come on in.”

Gwen obliged, dragging her bag behind her. The front hall was not particularly large. A corridor stretched to her right, a door stood at her left, and facing her was a staircase, leading to the upper storeys of the house.

“What do they call ya?” the girl demanded. She was chewing something slowly, and her tongue made clucking noises every now and then.

“Gwen.”

“Nice name. I’m Mel,” her host informed her.

Mel was tall, almost a head taller than Gwen, and wore a pair of loose, scruffy jeans that were much too long for her. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes, although they gazed at her under raised eyebrows, were kind enough to put Gwen at ease.

“I suppose Dee’ll want to see ya,” Mel said, turning to lead the way down the hall. “Don’t worry, she’s not like those evil matrons on TV. Nah, sometimes I reckon she’s more crazy than most of us- and we’re the ones in the nut house!”

Gwen laughed uncertainly. Her stomach had begun to hum with nervousness. The suitcase she lugged seemed to grow heavier with each step, her grip becoming tighter and tighter.

The doors they passed each had labels on them- ‘Common Room’, ‘TV Room’, ‘Dining Hall’ and finally, right down the end of the corridor, ‘Dee’s Room.’

Here Mel stopped and turned to give Gwen an encouraging smile.

“Just knock and go right in,” she said, and with a coaxing pat on Gwen’s back, the tall girl disappeared back down the corridor.

Gwen summoned her courage and rapped her knuckles quickly on the hard wooden door. Instantly, the door opened and she found herself staring at a woman with such degrees of beauty surrounding her that it was breathtaking. With long, curling, chestnut hair, soft brown eyes and red lips curved in a welcoming smile, this woman did not compare with the ‘Dee’ Gwen had imagined. In her mind, Gwen had seen the matron of the boarding house to be a small, mouse-like woman with thick glasses and messy hair, yet the figure in front of her was the exact opposite.

“Come in, come in,” Dee said, smiling warmly at her. “I’m Dorothy, but you shall call me ‘Dee’- none of that ‘Matron’ rubbish here!”

Gwen hesitantly entered the office, expecting soft colours and vases of flowers. She received a shock then, when she stepped into the room to find it all painted in a dark, gloomy black. The walls, the ceilings, even the writing desk was covered in the night coloured paint. No other shade offered relief from the darkness.

Even in such dull surroundings, though, Dee still managed to light up the room.

“So. Gwendolyn, isn’t it? I can’t tell you how pleased I am to have you here!” the beauty said.

Gwen felt like sinking through the floor. She perceived herself then as she must have looked to Dee: dressed in scruffy, green cargos and a scarlet cardigan, her wavy red hair spilling over her shoulders and her grey eyes staring at the woman before her blankly, she probably looked like a nut case.

“Thankyou,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze to the floor.

For a moment, Dee regarded her with calculating eyes, and then clapped her hands together decidedly.

“Well, I guess I’d better get you your books and things, hey?” she said, moving towards the door. “Just wait here, and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Gwen nodded, relieved to be alone, for however short an amount of time. She gazed around the room, drinking in her surroundings. The darkness made her crave for light.

On Dee’s desk stood a photo frame, from which a handsome young man grinned at her. Gwen moved closer. A small figurine of a curled rabbit sat next to the frame. It regarded her with plaster eyes.

“She painted the whole room black, you know,” it seemed to whisper. “Right after he died. Three whole buckets of tar coloured paint. The purple walls muffled under layer upon layer of black, smothering it like despair itself. She said the colour reminded her too much of him. It screamed at her as if he were dying all over again…”

A sound from the doorway made Gwen spin around guiltily. Dee wafted into the room again and pressed a bundle of books into her arms.

“There you go! These are your reading books and journals for while you’re here,” the graceful woman told her with a smile. “Try and write something in the journal each day. You don’t have to read all the books, but they’re there if you want them.”

Gwen nodded, looking down at the heavy novels. Titles including ‘Wuthering Heights,’ ‘Pride and Prejudice’, and ‘Jane Eyre,’ peeped out at her.

“Thanks,” she said again.

“There is a picnic tomorrow, all the others will be coming. I hope you come along,” Dee told her as they stepped out into the hallway. “Dinner will be at 6 o’clock, in the Dining Hall. Mel will show you to your room.”

The tall girl had been lingering around the foot of the staircase in the entrance of the house. As they emerged into the light at the end of the corridor, Gwen saw Mel smiling at her.

“Hey there,” Mel said, grinning at Dee affectionately. “Ready for the grand tour?’

Gwen opened her mouth to reply, but Dee laughed, her rich voice echoing in the hall.

“Plenty of time for that later,” the young matron assured them. “It’s almost 5 o’clock, would you please show Gwen to her room and introduce her to the others? Dinner is in half an hour.” With one last smile, Dee retreated back down the hall to the dark depths of her office.

Mel turned to Gwen, her irrepressible grin causing Gwen’s own lips to curve as well.

“Guess what? You’re sharing a room with me!” Mel clapped her hands with excitement. She led the way up the staircase, Gwen following cautiously behind. “Just wait until you meet the others! Don’t worry; none of them are seriously messed up. This isn’t a rehab centre! Nah, most of us just need some time out, ya know?”

Gwen nodded. She knew the feeling all too well. For the first time since her aunt had suggested her coming here, she wondered if perhaps this truly was what she needed. There was a chance that coming to this strange boarding house could be the cure to her madness.

A/N: so, review? Because I’m putting the whole story up at once, I won’t be putting authors notes in every chapter. Still, feel free to email me if you have nay questions.