Natalya sits in her wheelchair all night. Donna doesn't know. She's too consumed with her work.

Ever since Miranda left, through dinner, and on until breakfast she's been trying desperately to get the tree to move again. The only time a leaf does so much as shudder is when Donna lets out a grating, broken scream of frustration. Then again the whole house shakes.

When dawn breaks Donna is sitting with her head in her hands. She's in the workshop sitting with Angie, unable to look at Natalya.

"No no no no no no no," Donna mutters, pulling at her bangs. A considerable loose amount of hair sits on the table already. Angie touches her arm, "I'm here, and Miranda can't take me away."

Donna knows that. Somewhere in her twisted mind she knows that Angie is the last defense of her strained sanity. But so was Natalya.

Was.

"I-I can't- She won't- I'll never, never see her again-"

Tears stain the table and Donna keeps her sobs quiet.

"Donna?" Natalya calls, "Donna please give me the wheelchair back! Let me see you. We can talk about this! Please!"

While Natalya was asleep Donna, to ensure she didn't wake up, gave her a whack on the head. This ensured she was asleep as Donna moved her from the wheelchair to the foyer chair. The wheelchair was then removed and Donna tied the soldier to the chair and sewed her arm to the armrest.

At first it was worry but now it's become something much more familiar emotion bubbling and burning in Natalya's chest.

"Donna, I can't feel fear but I can feel anger and I'm getting very annoyed," Natalya calls. It takes every ounce of self control trying to keep from frightening her housemate.

"Donna!"

Silence.

On the shelves and bookcases and sitting on the floor all around the house the dolls rattle. They shake and tremble which leaves Natalya puzzling as to what exactly Donna is fully capable of. Obviously in her most desperate moments she can do so much, but so can anyone acting on adrenaline.

"Donna!"

Nothing.

Natalya tries again despite knowing it's futile. She strains, pulling her entire body's weight and all the strength in her right arm against the strings. The chair arm groans and the wood gives. Once it's ripped free Natalya sighs. She didn't want or mean to break the chair and now she's upset with herself as well.

"Donna this is childish, please come talk to me-"

In the silence the elevator sounds deafening. For once Natalya hopes it's that grease stained chainsmoking bastard. She hopes he'll come out and see her and say something snarky before handing her her legs.

When the elevator opens Natalya is glad to have the chair arm. She rears back but before she can hurl it into Alcina's face Miranda's claws close around her wrist.

"Don't even think about it girl. I won't hesitate to make you symmetrical again."

The way Miranda speaks so clinically, so coolly makes Natalya reconsider. With one good hand she can still write and bake at least. Then again with the way the countess is looking her up and down she gets the distinct impression those things won't matter soon.

"You can go quietly, or you can be carried in a sack. The choice is yours."

To Natalya's horror the countess is holding her legs. The dark metal is familiar from her arm. These are the new and improved versions Heisenberg had promised.

"I won't give you the satisfaction. I will never willingly leave here."

"Really? Not even if you were allowed to go home? Back to a world where you could eat real food and have real prosthetics, not one of my children's toys?" Miranda remarks. With her face obstructed by her mask her smile can be heard more than seen.

Natalya bares her teeth, "Fuck you. I'd walk into hell if it meant I'd get to see you burn."

Just as she anticipated, Miranda's temper is short. All it takes is a blow to the head and Natalya is nothing more than a rag doll. Her fingers are still closed around the arm chair.

Rocking back and forth in the kitchen sitting in a huddled corner tears stream down Donna's cheek and plasma oozes from the cysts and pustules on the other side. Only once it's been quiet for a full minute does Donna allow herself to suck in wet gasps through her mouth. After a few sobs she lets out a shriek.

All the familiar hate and fear and anxiety and doubt comes flooding down like the waterfall outside the house.

Donna is too afraid. She has rightfully lived in fear of Miranda for so long she doesn't know any other way to be.

Living in fear leads to living anxiety. Will this upset Miranda? Will she care? What did I do wrong? What is wrong with me?

Donna has doubted her decision to accept the cursed cadou for decades now. With her fractured mind and sanity ebbing it's one of a few things she's been able to focus on. That and her hate.

Donna hates herself. She hates teh imperfection in her face. She hates the mold growth that consumed her eye. She hates her fear and anxiety. She hates that no matter how very determined she is she can't make up her mind to follow through. But for all her self hatred there is one thing, one person Donna hates more.

Alcina.

Alcina Dimitrescu. Mother Miranda's favorite. The near perfect countess with her three beautiful daughters and her big castle. Her grace and beauty and confidence. Donna isn't jealous. She doesn't want Dimitrescu's daughters or her castles or even her beauty. She just wants Miranda's approval.

But now Alcina has something else Donna wants. Something that belongs to her. Someone that Donna will not share. She let her sister use her talent to sew new garments and fix old ones. Donna let Alcina make fun and amuse herself by embarrassing her. Hell in the summer she even tolerated her intolerable nieces.

Not now.

Now Alcina has Natalya. And Natalya is Donna's.

"We should get her," Angie cackles darkly, "We show Alci and mommy Miranda and get Natalya back. She's fun. We should get her back."

Gathering herself up off the floor Donna wipes her face with a dish rag and goes outside. She looks at the flowers and plants and withered trees. Raising one hand she summons them to her command. There is no room for compromise or fear in her mind. She will get Natalya back.

Sure enough, the forest surrounding the house groans in response.

(( Note from the author: Hi! Sorry about not posting last week. I was under a great deal of stress and now I've developed a cold. Still fighting it but sitting at home means I had time to write. Enjoy! ))