"Sophia...she saved my life back then." said Emma. "Me and my dad. I never told you about it, because...I don't know. I don't know. I should have told you. It was gangsters, the ABB. They pushed me down, and they cut off my hair, made me eat my hair, and then they were going to take me, sell into one of their...their farms, they called it. They thought my face looked too nice so they said I had to choose which part they were going to cut up with a knife." She licked her lips, raised a finger and tapped parts of her face, one by one. "An eye. My nose. My mouth. Or my ears, both of my ears."

Emma raised her eyes. She was studying my face, looking at the same parts one by one. Eye, nose, mouth, ears. "Can you imagine that, Taylor? Having to pick what part of your face is going to be ruined for the rest of your life? Knowing they're sadistic bastards who are probably going to cut them all off at the end as a joke?"

I thought back to what Emma had done to me, to the locker. "I get the idea."

"They thought I was a worm, lower than dirt, so low they could make me cooperate in my mutilation for their own entertainment." She leaned forward. "But I didn't take any of their choices. I threw the guy off and stabbed him in the eye with my nails. His only eye. The asshole's probably blind now.

"That was when Sophia saved me. She kicked their asses in ten seconds flat. She saved me, but...I was in a bad place for a while, after that. I realized the world was sick, with animals like that who could attack me at any time and any place and I couldn't do anything to defend myself. I couldn't go outside, couldn't leave my room. You weren't there for me, you were away at summer camp.

"You could have called me. We had pay phones at camp, they would have let you-"

"I know! But Sophia was there for me. She saved me and she explained everything. The principle."

"That principle again."

Emma gave a solemn nod, as though she was reading from a holy book. "Yes. There's a pecking order, a food chain. The strong at the top and the weak at the bottom. The strong can do what they want and the weak can't fight back. But it's not important whether you're weak or strong. What matters is whether you're the type to stay in your place. A winner or a loser. When you're in a crisis do you come out stronger, rise to the top? Or do you come out weaker, fall to the bottom and become a victim forever?

"Sophia saved me because she saw me fight back and she wanted a friend like her. A winner. A survivor. She recognized me as her kind and she protected me. I wasn't as strong as her but she was teaching me to get stronger. I was her project, she wanted to see how strong she could make me.

"I wanted to stay friends with you. Really, I wanted to, you were my best friend! But I had to show Sophia that you were a winner like us, a survivor. I thought it would be easy. I thought you were one of us.

"So I pushed you, I faked as if I hated you and put you in a crisis, but you...you idiot, Taylor, you never did a fucking thing! You never grew a spine! You let me push you harder and harder for months, until Sophia was convinced you were a perfect victim, a worm, the lowest of the low, and then I didn't have a choice! I had to keep pushing you down because that's your place, or else she and all the other girls would get the wrong idea and think I was turning into a loser like you!"

My jaw dropped. "You don't even hate me? You betrayed me and screwed with me for years because of your stupid principle and you never even hated-"

"I do hate you! You were supposed to be stronger than that. When you let me push you around I couldn't stand being around you anymore. You were depressing. To think I had been best friends with such a whimp, why would anyone want to be around a loser like that? If I was in trouble, if the gang thugs attacked again, what could you do for me but turn into a useless pile of tears like when your mom died?"

I stared at her, speechless. So fucked up.

"And now I hate you even more because you somehow grew a spine and it's too late. I can stop messing with you but...if I go easy on you, if I do a one eighty flip and tell the other girls to back off, do you think they'll listen to me? Do you think Sophia will listen to me?

"I can't do it, I can't! If I don't tell Sophia why, if I betray her and identify myself with the lowest of the worms, she'll drop me and kick me to the curb. She'll make the other girls turn on me and she'll push me, push both of us harder than anything I ever did to you. I can't stop her, I'm not as strong as her! And if I tell her why, what you're trying to pull with blackmail, she'll blow a vein. She won't let herself give in to a worm, she'll say it's predator or prey, kill or be killed, and she'll come to your house at night and kill you dead!"

Emma was panting, out of breath. Her eyes were watering with the beginnings of tears. She wiped at her eyes and lowered her voice. "I'm sorry, Taylor. I'm really, truly sorry for getting you into this. If I could snap my fingers now and take it all back, I'd do it. Now it's gone out of control and I can't stop it.

"I'll do everything I can. I promise. I'll stop messing with you. I won't tell the others to pick on you anymore. I'll find them a new target, send them after someone else. And I'll...I'll pay you. I'll get my dad to pay you off. I'll do whatever it takes. I don't think I can ever make it up to you, but...please. I can't go against Sophia. I can't tell her to stop bullying you. Please don't make me go against her and get both of us ruined. Please."

I almost felt a twinge of sympathy. Emma was vulnerable for once, pleading and scared for her life. But I'd seen her crocodile tears before. Even now, at her lowest point, she wasn't telling me the whole truth. She was trying to manipulate me, putting on an act and playing up her fears, fudging the details to make it sound like she was an innocent victim and it was all Sophia's fault. If I pushed Sophia with my power I'd probably get an equal and opposite sob story about how it was all Emma's fault.

I had no idea how to fix this. Emma was broken. She had rebuilt herself in the image of a psycho killer who only cared about picking on the 'weak'. She didn't realize how crazy she sounded ranting about food chains and prey animals, she actually thought I would appreciate her offer to send the bullies after some other poor girl as their new 'prey'. She had spent so long in that delusional, toxic headspace that she couldn't see a way out. The more I heard, the more it seemed impossible to reach past the demon's mask and draw out the old Emma from inside her.

But for all of that...the numbers in my head hadn't changed.

38.7565179890998990% chance Emma will stop the bullies and be my friend again, if I don't back down.

Proof that I could fix her. All I had to do was find the right words to say. The words I said in the thirty eight point seven five percent of futures where I convinced Emma to take my side and stop the bullies.

I fixed my eyes on Emma and braced myself to use my power. My mosaic of futures was covered in rips and tears, and every question I asked was more damage, more pain. If it wasn't for my medication I would have passed out long ago. I was going to have to push myself to my limits and pray I found the answer before I fell apart.

What were the magic words?

'Emma, I'm sorry for what you went through. Those thugs put you through hell. But can't you see that you've become one of them? You put me through hell, your best friend, for the sake of some bullshit about the food chain you were fed by a cold-blooded murderer. You're better than this. We're better than this. If you change your ways and stop the bullies, I'm willing to forgive you. We can go back to being friends again.'

8.7191146777701726% chance Emma will stop the bullies and be my friend again, if I say that.

Pain flooded through my skull. I winced and let my head droop, but I kept my eyes on Emma. My friendship wasn't good enough for her? I should have expected it. She was stuck in her toxic headspace where might was right and strength was everything. Of course she would reject me. I had to crush her mindset before she would listen to reason.

Emma was giving me a curious look. I hadn't been able to suppress the pain on my face.

'You're stronger than this, Emma. You not Sophia's slave. You can't stay in her shadow forever. Tell her what I told you. She stops the bullying, she keeps her hands off my family, or she goes straight to jail. Don't let her scare you. You call me a worm, but I'm not afraid. Not in the slightest. If Sophia fancies herself a predator, then she understands carrots and sticks like any other animal.'

12.4153072110165546% chance Emma will stop the bullies and be my friend again, if I say that.

More pain. I let out a low moan, felt tears come to my eyes. Damn it. Even after I stood up to Emma and blackmailed her, she still thought I was a worm who didn't deserve her respect. She wouldn't believe me when I told her I could protect her from Sophia.

"Taylor?" said Emma. "Are you still sick? You're scaring me."

Yeah, she was scared. Her innocent watering eyes, her fearful and vulnerable face. Yet behind it was the smug demon who refused to listen to my words and good will.

Fuck her for doing this to me. Fuck her for getting herself so screwed up in the head that I had to put myself through hell for her sake. I had a sudden urge to slap her, strangle her, put a fist straight through that vulnerable, innocent, oh-so-punchable face of hers and hit the demon underneath.

I tried to calm myself, took a deep breath and found that it came out as a gasp. No. If I hit her, if I resorted to violence, I'd be no better than the bullies. I'd drive her away and then I wouldn't be able to make her my friend again. And yet...with that thought, something tugged at my mind. The texture of the battered mosaic in my mind, the shape of my immediate futures-

43.4625205181325660% chance Emma will stop the bullies and be my friend again, if I punch her in the face.

Another wave of pain rushed through my head, greater than before, but I was too shocked to care. What the hell. The path to friendship with Emma was...was...

Of course. I saw it now. It all made sense. I had thought I needed words to fix her. I had been following the values Mom had taught me, the values of a university professor. Solve conflicts through words, honest debate, diplomacy.

But to fix Emma I had to appeal to the values of a high school delinquent. Boys sealed half of their friendships with fistfights and bruises, or so Dad had told me. Emma and I were girls, but I was trying to get her out from under the thumb of Sophia, who was physical if nothing else. Sophia had taught her to believe in a food chain steeped in threats of violence and death. Now the only argument she would respect was one made with fists.

I couldn't pry off her demon's mask with words. I had to crush it with my own hands and rip it off her face.

I clenched my fists and stood. Emma startled at the abrupt movement and got to her feet as well. Sensing the threat. "You don't have to decide now, Taylor. I can come back later, when you're feeling better-"

I hesitated, seeing the look in her eyes. It felt unnatural. I wasn't a violent person. I had it ground into me by long experience that violence would always be punished. My violence, anyway. The bullies knew how to get away with it. I knew that if I hit her here it would come back to bite me. The teachers, the parents, the authorities were always on her side. What was I supposed to do, ask Emma to cover it up for me?

48.5375323621096761% chance Emma will stop the bullies and be my friend again and I won't get in trouble for hitting her, if I punch her in the face and ask her to cover it up.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. I laughed, and the pain bursting through my head made my laughter come out shaky, unstable, and probably more than a little insane.

God, this was so fucked up. She was so fucked up. If I act nice to her, use sweet words and appeals to friendship, she rejects me and runs back into the arms of the psycho killer. But if I act like Sophia, beat her up and tell her to cover up her bruises, she accepts me and sticks up for me against the bullies.

I hated her a little more for that. For making me act like them. I would have to get into their mindset too, convince her that I thought she deserved to be beaten black and blue. But if that was what it took to fix her broken brain and make her be a good friend to me again...I would do it gladly.

"Taylor, uh. I'll just go." said Emma.

She moved for the door, but I was faster. I blocked her path.

"Emma." I said. "I've decided."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've decided that I've fucking had it with you and your nonsense."

Emma's eyes went wide. She started to speak, but I cut her off.

"You don't understand anything. You have it all backwards. You know why I didn't hit back? Because I was ignoring you, Emma. You weren't worth my time. You were too weak for me to care. Yeah, you made me cry, you broke some of my stuff, but I was strong enough to take it. I survived. I kept going forward with my life and I stuck to my principles.

"And you? You didn't have the strength to survive a fraction of that. You broke at your first taste of violence. You let the thugs get into your head and turn you into a copy of themselves, then you let Sophia make you even worse. You used to be popular because people liked you, Emma. You were the fashion model with a head on her shoulders who cared about her friends. Now you're popular because you're good at sucking up to superheroes and making schoolgirls cry.

"Where did it get you? Are you stronger now? When you turn into a puddle of tears at the thought that people might find out about your crimes? When you turn into a simpering coward at the thought of standing up to Sophia? When you tell me your 'best friend' would betray you in an instant and has you scared to death? Every step you took to make yourself look stronger made you weaker instead. Now you're the lowest of the low, nothing more than a gangbanger with a pretty face.

"So I've decided to stop putting up with your nonsense. You don't get a choice. You're going to follow my terms, stand up to Sophia, and show real strength for the first time in God knows how long."

I tried to keep my gaze on Emma's eyes as I spoke, couldn't quite manage it through the haze of pain in my skull. The flickering visions I saw in the battered mosaic helped to guide me, letting me follow the grooves worn by the dim outline of my immediate futures. Emma was going to back away from me in shock and say-

"Taylor, please! I can't, I don't want you to get killed-"

And I was going to say-

"I get it. You forgot what it means to stick up for a friend. The only thing you understand now is brute force. So to start with-"

And Emma was going to take a single step backward, realizing what was coming, but I was already throwing my punch.

I missed my target. I had been aiming at the center of her face, at her nose, but she shifted to the side. My fist hit her just under the eye, with a solid crack as it hit the bone of her eye socket. She fell to the floor with a grunt, though she didn't scream.

Emma looked up at me from the floor, her hands covering her injured eye. The same eye she had pointed to when she told me about the thugs who threatened her. With her hands covering her face she left herself open. I kicked her in the stomach for good measure, once, twice, three times, before she got one of her hands down to defend herself. I must have hit her in exactly the right way to knock the breath out of her. She wheezed and slumped to the floor.

I stood over Emma for long seconds as she lay on the floor. She was glaring at me, a facade of shock and anger, but underneath...

A flicker of motion in the futures in my head, the sound of footsteps in the hallway. "Dad?" I called.

"Taylor? Are you okay in there? I thought I heard a commotion."

"We're fine, Dad. Knocked over a chair."

A chuckle. "Don't have too much fun, you two. Taylor needs her rest."

"Just a few more minutes. Emma still says Bronte is better than Austen, but I think I've got her cornered."

Another chuckle, and Dad went back to the living room.

I put a smile on my face and offered Emma a hand. After a few more seconds of glaring at me, she accepted it and I pulled her to her feet. I didn't let go of her hand, though. I held her hand tight, leaned in until my face was almost touching hers, and spoke softly.

"Emma. I hope you liked my gift. I hit you just like you always wanted. A fraction of what you and your fellow thugs did to me, but it'll do for now. Now here's what I want to know. Are you going to go to the principal for help? Go to your daddy the lawyer? Go crawling back to Sophia with your tail between your legs? Or are you going to suck it up, stick up to them, and prove to me you have a fraction of the strength I've shown?"

Emma had a tear coming out of her visible eye, the one she wasn't covering with a hand. She nodded, once, and I released her. She left without another word.

The minute she left the room I collapsed on my bed. It was over. I won. I was safe.

99.9+% chance of being free from attack in one hour's time

I laughed. Yes, thank you power. I was absolutely, completely safe. And it was apparently possible to be euphoric, at the same time as being in agonizing pain, at the same time as being on the edge of collapsing into sleep. The world around me was wavering, my senses vivid and clear one moment and blurry and detatched the next. I didn't know how much was my success with Emma and how much was the residual effects of my medicine. Probably both.

I rubbed the knuckles of my right hand, still stinging and raw from the punch. I was a little disturbed at how satisfying it had been. Punching someone in the face was supposed to be wrong. It was against the law, it was assault and battery. I was a criminal now.

But I didn't feel bad about it. I only felt relief and satisfaction. The numbers in my head had told me it was the right thing to do to help both of us, and they hadn't led me wrong. I wondered how many more times I'd have to beat Emma before she became my friend again.

I forced myself to my feet and staggered to the doorway. "Dad? I'm going to turn in early tonight."

Dad appeared in the hallway, a concerned look on his face. "You okay, kiddo? Emma left in a hurry. She said you weren't feeling well."

"Pretty tired, yeah. I'm hoping-" My head throbbed, and I winced. "I'm hoping I'll feel better in the morning."

"Listen to your body, Taylor. If it hurts to move, it's telling you to rest. You don't have to go to school tomorrow."

"I want to go. Emma said she'll stick up for me against the bullies. I want to see it. She knows who some of them are and she thinks she can make them stop. Permanently."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." he said. "That's what friends are for, right?"

I smiled. "Right."

I shut the door, turned off the lights, and collapsed on the bed. I let my mind drift. An abstracted part of my consciousness busied itself piecing my mosaic of futures back together. The mosaic was torn and savaged, my work of the last day and a half undone. It had been worth it, though. In the space of an hour I had nearly tripled my chances of stopping the bullies and getting my friend back. I had almost even odds, now.

I slowly drifted off to sleep, the forty eight point five three percent of bright futures dancing in my mind's eye.