TWO FACED

The glow of the television lit up the dark room, throwing shadows against the walls and worn carpet. Mr. Norton sat slumped over in his favourite chair, chin on his chest. He snored quietly, the coarse hairs of his gray moustache moving stiffly with his breathe. The orange glow of a cigarette butt smoldered in an ashtray on the table beside him.

In the next room, a window slid open shakily. Plaid curtains that hadn't been touched in years were pushed to the side and someone stepped awkwardly through the window. The slender shadow stumbled but steadied itself by reaching for the old wooden back of a dining room chair. The intruder looked around and seeing the flickering glow coming from the living room tiptoed to the door.

Mr. Norton snorted suddenly and rolled his head to the side. A Wheel of Fortune contestant groaned when she spun and went bankrupt.

The intruder, confident that Mr. Norton was sufficiently oblivious that anything was out of the ordinary, headed towards the stairs. Each step creaked, yelling at Mr. Norton to wake up but he snored on.

The intruder crept stealthily through the two bedrooms, opening musty drawers and rummaging through clothes Mr. Norton had forgotten he owned. Pockets were stuffed full of loose change and useless knickknacks that could be pawned for more loose change.

The wind whipped through the trees outside throwing a branch against a window and Mr. Norton woke up with a start. He sniffed and yawned pulling at his argyle sweater vest that had started to twist around his torso while he slept. A cold breeze blew through the open window, finding the fine hairs of Mr. Norton's comb over and lifting them off of his shiny scalp. He looked behind him and noticed the open window, the plaid curtains billowing with the wind. He reached for a smooth dark cane and hoisted himself out of the chair, leaning heavily on the cane. On shaky legs he hobbled through the dining room to the window staring intently with tired eyes into the dark backyard. The trees danced with the wind pointing emphatically to upstairs windows but Mr. Norton struggled to shut the window and didn't get the message.

Upstairs, the intruder searched through orange prescription bottles in the medicine cabinet for drugs worth selling. Pills rattled around inside bottles yelling out for someone to notice. But no one did.

Mr. Norton clicked off Wheel of Fortune bathing the room in darkness and engulfing the rest of the house in silence. Upstairs, the intruder froze for an instant before shutting the medicine cabinet quietly.

Mr. Norton shuffled to the stairs and slowly began to ascend towards his bedroom, among other things. The intruder peeked around the corner and watched as the old man took each step with a bored determination. The intruder, pill bottles in hand flew down the stairs, two at a time crashing into a hunched over Mr. Norton and causing him to go tumbling back down the five steps he had managed to climb up. His head collided with the old ornate banister and he landed on the carpet at the foot of the stairs, no longer burdened with life or what had been resembling it for the last six years.

The intruder looked back at Mr. Norton once and exited through the front door.

The red and blue lights took turns staining the walls of Amanda's bedroom, waking her up from a dream about - well she couldn't remember now. Pushing the covers aside, she got up and padded over to the window. Across the parking lot of the complex of condominiums she had lived in since her eighth birthday was Mr. Norton's house. She used to go to his door every morning and ask him if there was anything he needed her to pick up for him while she was up for the day. But once she started high school she knocked on his door less and less until the last year she hadn't seen or spoken to him at all.

Dark gray smoke rose off of the house that looked identical to her own. The smoke appeared even darker against the orange and pink sky surrounding the rising sun. A fire truck sat outside the house, long thick hoses snaking out the back and towards the charred walls of Mr. Norton's house.

Amanda grabbed her pink bathrobe and hurried down the stairs. Her mother was already on the front porch, arms crossed over her chest frowning at the scene only feet away.

"Mom, what happened?" Amanda asked stepping out onto the porch and pulling her robe tightly against her bare skin. The wind whipped through her hair and found it's way down the back of her pajama top.

"There was a fire at Mr. Norton's house," her mother stated.

"Is he alright?"

Just as the words left her mouth a gurney with a white sheet covering what could only be a body was wheeled unsteadily over the broken pieces of the front door jam.

Amanda's mother put an arm around her daughter, rubbing her shoulder to comfort her. Amanda just looked down at her hands and went back inside.

Back in her room, Amanda pulled a shoebox out from under her bed and took off the lid. Inside was an array of transparent orange prescription bottles with different names and dates. She dug through the bottles and found two prescribed to Mr. Norton. She didn't know what the medication was for but she knew people who would buy it.

She shoved the bottles into her backpack and crawled back into bed deciding that she had better get rid of those fast, just in case.

The sun rose slowly lighting up Amanda's small room and making it impossible to get back to sleep. She stared at the ceiling and listened to her mother bang around in the kitchen making breakfast. She shivered at the thought of her mother finding out what she had done last night before she crawled into bed and pretended to be an innocent seventeen year old.

She went over the events in her head. She ran from Mr. Norton's house when she saw him lying on the floor but there hadn't been any reason for the house to burn down. Had Mr. Norton been alive when the fire started? Had he known it was her inside his house?

Questions knotted themselves in the pit of her stomach while she got ready for school.

Her mother threw out the scrambled eggs that sat in front of Amanda for ten minutes without being touched blaming it on the shock of someone so near them passing away. She didn't notice the blank look on her daughter's face or the way she limped slightly on her way out the door.

The cool autumn breeze smelled of burnt wood and melted plastic. The beige siding on the front of Mr. Norton's house was warped and discoloured from the flames that had probably leapt outside the windows. The window Amanda had snuck in through only hours ago was still wide open and she could see the charred edges of the plaid curtains.

She looked around the complex. No one was outside. The police had put yellow warning tape around the entire house as if that would keep anyone out.

Amanda looked back at her house and she could see her mother through the screen door clearing the table.

She climbed in the open window of Mr. Norton's house and looked around. The smell infected her nostrils and she coughed. It looked like most of the damage was confined to the downstairs area because the old wooden banister was intact and after a few steps the stairs seemed to be untouched.

The place where she had left Mr. Norton unconscious at the foot of the stairs was empty. His body had been wheeled out the front door a few hours ago. Nevertheless, Amanda stepped over the area at the bottom of the stairs and headed to the second floor.

The air cleared a little bit with each step and she could breath without the smell of charred wood entering her lungs.

The upstairs looked different in the daylight. The wallpaper was faded and worn looking and it seemed as though the carpet hadn't been replaced in decades. There was a full-length mirror at the end of the short hallway and Amanda paused to look at her long blond hair and ripped jeans. She didn't look like a murderer. But that was exactly what she had done. She hadn't meant to knock Mr. Norton right out when she barreled past him on the stairs, only to startle him so he wouldn't recognize her when she went by.

Amanda shrugged as if to say, "oh well, can't change anything now". She was totally devoid of anything resembling remorse and that didn't sit well with Mr. Norton.

He stood at the top of the stairs, straighter and taller than he had been in fifteen years. He didn't need his cane anymore and his clothes fit better than they ever had.

He didn't like watching Amanda wander through his house as if she owned it. He watched her check herself out in the mirror and smile. He was going to teach sweet little Amanda, the girl that used to bring him milk and a newspaper every day on her way home from school a lesson.

"So, do you want it or not?" Amanda stood back against a row of lockers in the deserted technology hallway at lunchtime with two freshmen in front of her. They examined the pills inside one of Mr. Norton's pill bottles. She had managed to convince them it was Ritalin and if they crushed a few pills into powder they would be able to snort it no problem. She had peeled the label off with her teeth in second period leaving only the orange bottle as proof that the pills were at least more powerful than Advil.

"We'll take some, how much?" one of the kids said.

She smiled and recited her price. She was paid in lunch money and allowance but money was money and she wasn't going to turn a customer away because they handed her a stack of fives.

The freshmen walked away leaving Amanda with one more bottle of pills to dispose of before school was out.

"Got anything for me in there?" a voice asked.

Amanda jumped in surprise and the canister of pills slipped out of her hand and spilled all over the filthy public school hallway. The pills scattered around her feet bouncing in all directions and rolling towards the doors.

"Shit," she snapped and dropped to her knees to gather up the pills.

"Let me help you," the voice said. She looked up to find a guy she had never seen before smiling at her. He pushed together a pile of pills with his brand new running shoes and stooped down to help her put each pill back into the orange canister.

"Maybe you shouldn't sneak up on people like that," Amanda said bitterly. She looked down the hallway nervously, if a teacher caught her with a prescription pill bottle she would have to make up an uncomfortable excuse that would probably find it's way back to her mother. She had managed to keep her part time job under wraps for five months now, since she sold her own leftover painkillers after breaking her wrist. She knew if this leaked out her mother would never trust her again and that was all she had to count on.

"I've been standing here for the last ten minutes," he told her and smiled.

"What do you want?" Amanda asked when she finally had all the mystery pills safely back in their bottle.

"What do you have to offer?" he asked looking her up and down.

"Tell me what you want and I'll tell you if I have it," she shot back.

He laughed. "Relax."

"Fuck you," she said and slammed her locker shut, stuffing her English papers in her backpack and heading towards the main hallway.

"Okay, okay, wait up Amanda," he called after her.

She turned around quickly. "Do I know you?" she asked narrowing her eyes suspiciously. She figured she must have mustered up some sort of reputation by now but she had never even seen this guy before.

"I heard you are good at breaking and entering," he said falling into step beside her.

"Where did you hear that?" she asked hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder.

"I have my sources," he said.

Amanda turned a corner and stopped at her English classroom without going in. She looked at the guy expectantly.

"I need your assistance with a little project I'm working on," he told her. "Can you meet me at the bleachers after school?"

Amanda stared at him. "What do I get out of this?" she asked.

"You'll see," he said and grinned at her. He started to back away then turned around and headed off down the hallway.

"Who are you?" Amanda called after him.

"A little taste of heaven," he called back. "But you can call me Nate." He turned a corner and it was as if he had never even been there at all.

Mr. Norton stood behind the bleachers inches away from Amanda's purple backpack. He reached out and tapped a bony finger just above the small of her back. She jumped and whirled around searching for something that obviously wasn't there. She picked up her backpack and scooted down a couple feet before turning back to the football practice that was taking place in front of her.

She sold a bottle of Vicodin to the quarterback last month and he had threatened to "make her hope she never took another breath" if she ever told anyone. Who was she going to tell? Her nonexistent friends? She could care less about a quarterback's reputation but when hers was on the line she took notice.

"Thanks for coming," a voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Nate materialized from behind the bleachers and stepped up each wooden bench until he got to the top where she sat perched.

"Where did you come from?" Amanda asked gripping one of the straps of her backpack.

"Over there," he said gesturing vaguely towards the school.

Amanda shook her head slightly but didn't mention the fact that she had looked behind her only seconds earlier and seen nothing.

"So are you ready?" Nate asked looking out onto the football field at the players doing their defensive drills. They barreled into foam barriers pushing them down the field while their coach screamed at them to be faster, harder, stronger.

"Ready for what," Amanda asked glaring at him. He wasn't normal; she figured he must be on something. Something she wouldn't mind getting her hands on.

Nate looked her right in the eye without wavering. "I need you to help me break into this house and get something important."

"What is it? Why is it important? What do you need me for?" Amanda fired question after question at him without pausing for an answer. For some reason, she doubted he had them anyway.

"There is a medicine cabinet full of drugs, you can load up for the next year at this house, I promise you," he explained.

"I'll do it," she said.

Amanda stood in the shadow a mansion of a house cast on the street in front of it as the sun sunk below the roof slowly. Nate stood slightly behind her watching the way she examined the house in doubt.

"This house is going to have some kind of alarm system," she told him backing away.

"Don't worry about that," he said vaguely.

Amanda's cell phone began to vibrate in her pocket against her thigh but she ignored it and started toward the front door. This house looked like a pharmacy of prescription pills she could sell for way more than they were worth. If Nate told her not to worry, she wasn't going to worry.

"Let's go around back," he whispered in her ear sending a rush of unnaturally cold breath through Amanda's hair.

The backyard sloped back into a forest that was darker than any place Amanda had ever seen before. The grass was beginning to turn yellow and die in the cool autumn air and the leaves of the trees were starting to change colours and drift off their branches with the slightest mention of a breeze.

Amanda jiggled the doorknob to the backdoor but it was locked tightly. She looked back at Nate with a bored expression on her face.

Nate grinned at her and produced a key from his back pocket. He slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Amanda followed him into the kitchen and glanced around. The house was silent, almost like Mr. Norton's had been after he clicked off the TV and decided to head upstairs to bed for the last time.

The shrill yappy bark of a dog sliced through the air and a tiny Chihuahua wearing an argyle sweater came scurrying around the corner. It jumped up Amanda's legs nipping at the strings that hung from the holes in her jeans.

"Shhh," Amanda hushed the dog and knelt down to pet it in an effort to get it to stop barking.

"I'll stay down here and keep watch, you go upstairs and take what you want," Nate told her once the dog had finally lost interest in the strangers that had entered it's home.

Amanda headed towards the stairs and looked back at Nate once before she started up them. He stood in the kitchen leaning against the marble countertop looking out the window above the sink.

She still didn't know what he needed her for but again she was in no position to question him. Upstairs, all the doors on either side of the hall were closed causing the long hallway to be blanketed in darkness. Amanda's heart pounded against her chest when she realized there could be people behind those doors. She started to tiptoe without even realizing it and slowly opened the first door to her left. She was lucky, it was the bathroom.

Quickly she closed the door behind her and went straight to the medicine cabinet. Nate was right, inside was an array of orange pill bottles and boxes of medications she had never even heard of. She picked up one of the bottles and read the name: Nathan Kincaid. The glaring coincidence didn't even occur to her.

Amanda shoved all the bottles into her book bag with her English homework and Social Studies field trip permission slip. She peeked out the door and looked up and down the hall. She could hear the dog's nails clicking across the linoleum kitchen floor. Through the tedious silence there was another sound coming from further down the hall. It sounded like a continuous whoosh of air moving in and out of a small space. Amanda was never good at ignoring curiosity and this was no exception. Maybe she brought it on herself. Maybe that's how these things go.

Amanda walked towards another door at the end of the hallway. She put her backpack on the floor against the wall and slowly turned the doorknob knowing the entire time that she should just turn around and get out of that house as fast as she could.

The room smelled like a hospital and it was dark. The curtains were shut so tightly no light could sneak in through the cracks. A white curtain surrounded a bed in the middle of the room and the sound Amanda was hearing faintly from the bathroom was loud now. She could see the outline of a body lying on the bed totally still except for the obligatory rise and fall of its chest.

She stepped up to the edge of the curtain and pushed it aside. There on the single hospital bed, kept in place by the guardrails was a teenage boy about her age. His cheeks were sunken and the skin around his eyes had taken on a gray tinge. He looked like death. But there was something familiar about him. His blond hair was stringy and longer than she remembered and his complexion wasn't even close to being as healthy as it should have been but it was definitely him. Nate.

Amanda stumbled backwards through the white sheet and backed towards the door of the room. If that was Nate in that bed hooked up to a respirator than who the hell was the guy downstairs?

She turned around to leave the room but barreled straight into someone's chest instead. She gasped in surprise; letting out a tiny squeak when the person blocked her exit shoved her backwards and onto the thin, worn carpet. She stared up only to find Nate, healthy as ever glaring down at her.

"What is going on? Who are you?" she blurted out scrambling backwards and ending up right against the metal wheels of the hospital bed.

"Don't you recognize me Amanda?" he asked sneering.

"You-You're in the bed. How are you-" she stuttered, her tongue tripping over the contradictions that littered her brain.

"It's a long story, but I think you have time to listen, don't you?" Nate asked her, smiling. He came towards her and grabbed her by the forearms, yanking her upright until they were face to face and her toes just grazed the floor. She could hear the continuous, mechanical breathing of the Nate that lay behind her, unconscious.

She stared into Nate's eyes and realized that they weren't his. They flickered and his face began to transform. His features melted away and his skin dropped until it was Mr. Norton's face she was inches from. His hot breath smelled of cigarette smoke and his dull blue eyes glared at her with malice.

"Mr. Norton? But you're dead-" Amanda managed to squeak.

"Thanks to you," he shot back. His arms wobbled and he let Amanda sink to the floor, her back still to the half corpse that lay behind her.

"I didn't set your house on fire," Amanda tried to tell him.

"It was a cigarette that started the fire, but it was you that pushed me down the stairs. I was already dead by the time the flames got to me," Mr. Norton told her.

"I-I'm sorry," Amanda stammered. Tears sprung to her eyes and she wiped them away quickly. She hadn't cried since the day her father told her he would never acknowledge her as his daughter. She was nothing to him. She cried when he walked away but she never would again.

"I'm not the only person whose life you have ruined Amanda," Mr. Norton continued. "Nate, behind you. He overdosed on medication you sold to his friends. It's your fault he's a vegetable. Your fault he will never open his eyes again."

"But how-" Amanda started. She started to feel around behind her for something to defend herself. It didn't seem to occur to her that Mr. Norton was already dead and there was nothing she could do to him now. Her hand brushed up against Nate's leg and she jerked it away. He was cold as death.

"Being on the other side is so peaceful Amanda. But sometimes people get the opportunity to come back and teach someone else a lesson. Nate never deserved to be like that. Do you think he deserved that Amanda?" Mr. Norton was rambling on, pacing back and forth. He didn't have the limp that used to plague him and his arms didn't shake the way they once had.

"I didn't know him. I-I don't think anyone deserves that," Amanda said. She glanced around the room. It didn't appear as though there was anything around that would help her. What do you use to defend yourself from a ghost anyway?

"I think some people deserve it," Mr. Norton said stopping in his tracks and pinning Amanda against the bed with his ice-cold sneer. "People like you." He was inches away from her in a nanosecond and with his bony hands he shoved her backward on top of Nate's sunken body. She screamed instinctively but it was cut short and she felt herself sink deep into a dark void, helpless.

"How do you feel?" a voice asked. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, her head thundering with rage.

"Good, I'll have to get used to his body but anything is better than what I had." Amanda heard her voice say. She opened her eyes quickly expecting to see a doctor or a police officer standing over her. But there was only darkness.

"I'm glad I could help you," the first voice said. It was Mr. Norton. Amanda tried to yell his name but her mouth wouldn't open. In fact, she couldn't seem to get her arms to move or her legs or even her mouth. She was frozen in a black, empty darkness with nothing to do but listen.

"This is a dream come true. I can't tell you how many hours I spent trapped in that worthless body plotting how to get her back for what she did to me," Amanda's voice said. She could hear her voice speaking but it wasn't her that was saying any of the things she was hearing.

"Now you have another chance," Mr. Norton said and let out a short, leering chuckle.

"Not exactly what I had in mind. I never thought I would have to live the rest of my life in the body of a girl that I hate. But I'll take it." Amanda's voice said.

"Good luck in your new body Nate, I know you won't let us down," Mr. Norton said.

Amanda felt someone touch her arm. But she knew it wasn't her arm they were touching. She wasn't herself. She was trapped somewhere else.

"I know you can hear me in there Amanda," her voice whispered in her ear. "I hope you enjoy your time trapped inside my body. My parents will never pull the plug so you'll be in there awhile. I'll visit you, tell you how your mom is doing. Or should I say my mom. I'll have to get used to being you. It's going to be fun."

Amanda screamed and kicked at the darkness that crowded around her but it was no use. There was nothing she could do. She never thought there was anything worse than death but she knew now that death was one of the only good things in life. She sank into the deepest part of her own subconscious, totally defeated. All she had left to do now was wait.