A/N: Okay, so this was a school project I wrote as part of an anthology for English. The theme was to be a number and mine was the number four; I've made it subtle in the story but it will appear. This is also my first published fanfiction so please review with constructive criticism, and I'll give you a cookie? =P

On with the show…

"Where am I?"

It never occurred to him that he could leave. Just get up and walk out and never return. It just didn't seem a possibility. He knocked back each shot, piling up the four glasses until there was nothing left but the burning sensation, the raw remains of his throat and nothing else.

It was his only comfort.

At least he thought it was.

You're strapped to a chair, all four limbs locked under straightjacket and… straight-trousers? But the burning remains and there it is, that question.

"Where am I?"

She visits you one day like an old ghost, you scream and scream because you never want to know that pain again, and finally she leaves.

But she returns every night.

One day she speaks to you, softly like you're that little girl again, but you know you're not, you're him and it makes no sense to ever return, to reawaken the past.

"Please, please answer me… Please." Her voice cracks and oozes with desperation.

But that stubborn nature of yours comes in handy, never do you utter a single word.

Until the day she says something that takes you by surprise.

"They miss you, y'know? They await your return."

And you literally feel the click in your brain as you attempt to piece together the meaning behind her words.

"… No." You finally spit out, and you stare at her until you realise she's been shocked into silence.

"No." You repeat so she can understand what she's doing to you. "You lie. No one awaits me, no one awaits a monster."

"They do!" She exclaims with such force your eardrums nearly pop. "I swear to God, we all do."

"You're lying to me. Please, just leave me to die in piece."

"Do you truly mean that?" Tears stream down her face and you realise you're crying too.

"Do you know where you come from?" She asks as if the question actually means anything.

"It is of no relevance to me, my past means nothing to me."

"And me? What do I mean to you? Tell me, am I nothing?"

"Yes. You are nothing. Now leave."

"You're lying and you know it. I am something, and I will save you, no matter what!"

You snort then, because the way she's speaking is vaguely familiar, and more than mildly amusing.

"You… I hate you."

"Never." She whisper into your ear, and before you can begin to try to push her away or wonder how she managed to get so close, she disappears.

You laugh, a hoarse wheeze becomes a chuckle, which soon develops into a sound unrecognisable, only the insane could parallel.

Before long the straightjacket and chair disappear and you are left on the floor in only trousers, grey and fading. You lie side down, put your head between your knees. You hear windows smash and shards of glass rain down, breaking your skin as the building crumbles, the times were turning yet again.

"Slow, slow, slow will know."