Mum was waiting at the front gate when Gabby walked down our path that evening. Her eyes skimmed nervously over Gabby but relaxed when I poked my head out of the pocket to wave at her. As we re-entered the closure of the house, I exhaled in relief. Being in new places always sends me on edge, despite the new attitude I've tried to stick with after hearing about Marcus.

Gabby ferried me into the kitchen after mum, who strode ahead to stir the Spaghetti Bolognese she'd been cooking prior to our arrival. "How'd the shopping go, girls?" She asked, pausing to taste the pasta sauce by the stove.

I’ve never liked the stove. Once, Max’s retarded friend James tried to boil me in it when Max went to the bathroom. Thank the gods Max found me just as the water reached the temperature of bathwater, or I'd quite literally be boiled alive. Of course, James still exists in my younger brother's friendship group, but mum has banned him from coming over while I am around. In other words, both of them now hate me for it.

"Really well, thanks." Gabby said pleasantly, dumping her bags by the island bench and taking a seat. I took the opportunity to vault over the rim of the pocket I'd been seated in for the past half an hour and come to a rough landing on the bench. Instantly, I began my routine stretching, working the feeling back into my cramped muscles. Travelling by pocket isn't ideal, and it almost always leaves my legs in a bad shape afterwards. "We bumped into a really nice guy at the doll's shop." My cousin continued with a smile. 

"Oh, Alex?" Mum asked, blushing. "He's a lovely man. I always talk to him when I'm there buying Amy's clothes..." 

'Mum!" I groaned, knowing full well of mum's 'crush' on the owner of the store. Every time she returns from a trip there, there's the same romantic expression on her slightly wrinkled face. I've always wondered whether Alex acted in the same way after their encounters. "It was Kyle, not Alex! Kyle's his son."

"Kyle?" Mum gushed, turning the stove off. "Oh, he's the splitting image of his father, that boy..."

It was like an angel had descended from heaven to break up the awkwardness when we were interrupted by Max sprinting into the kitchen with a schoolbag slung over one shoulder. I smirked over at my giant little brother as he came to a halt in front of Gabby. 

"You're late." Mum said, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall nearby. "Were you out with friends again?" 

"Sorry!" Max replied with a huff. His eyes flickered across the bench between Gabby and I, the expression on his face giving away everything about his thoughts. "You two get along, right? Hey Gabby, by the way." 

I rolled my eyes, as Mum served up the spaghetti. It was extremely noticeable that my portion was far smaller than the others- I had a small strand of pasta with a drizzle of meat sauce. To the others, it was pretty dismal, but in my eyes, the serve was far too much. It's lucky I exert myself to get around; otherwise, I'd be pretty damn huge.

We all sat down to eat, and Gabby giggled at my tiny portion as she shovelled mounds of her own meal into her mouth. 

"Very lady-like." I commented sarcastically, and she rolled her eyes, making a show of chewing her food with her mouth open. Max let out a loud snort. It felt almost natural, to have my cousin around. Sure, she was ten times my size and just as daunting as anyone else, but she treated me like an equal. Not many people have ever given me that privilege, and I'm used to that. I has been a nice change, though, and I hope that high school will benefit me in the same way. It'd be nice to feel normal, for once. Pretty damn amazing.

****

I looked in my mother’s files, scanning them for the profile pictures of the shrunken. They were kept in my wardrobe, away from my foster parents. Nobody knew I still had them. My mother’s studies were incinerated. The cure no longer belonged to her, at least not after the prison sentence. It was the government’s now. Kept in research facilities worldwide for modification, although from my knowledge, no one's come close to unlocking the reason behind why the serum induced shrinking. 
I was sitting on my bed, feet resting on a pillow. I didn’t know the time; three o’clock maybe? School had ended a few minutes ago and I’d just got home. My room was littered with the usual- socks, clothes, homework and… tiny people. I was used to their presence. Hated their guts and never talked to them, but I was still accustomed to seeing their small frames. My doors and windows were closed to prevent them getting out, but I had my curtains open to look at the countryside. 

I lived on a farm just outside Kingaroy in Queensland. It wasn’t a heavily populated area, but it had a main street and shopping centres etcetera. I liked looking out the window to see the cows, the rolling hills and the chooks in their coop. The farm calmed me, almost succeeded in draining my anger and sadness for my mother. I was lonely out here. I had school and all, but no close friends.
Not like Marcus… No. No.

He wasn’t my friend. 

I hate him. 

I scanned the room for him reflexively. He was sitting in his usual place on my desk, with his tiny legs drawn tightly to his chest, as though he were caving in on himself. His vacant eyes bore holes into the wood below him. 

Marcus never left that spot, I noticed. I only let the shrunken out for two hours a day, partly for entertainment and partly for the company. I never used to when it was just Marcus, Ebony and Russel, but once I nabbed Harriet, James and Abigail, I decided it was fair. 

Aghhh! I keep getting ahead of myself.

Ok. This is 2015 now and I have six shrunken. They live in the birdcage in my room, as I have mentioned before, and yes, I hate their guts. My room is quite large with a bed, a desk and a wardrobe. I don’t have much, since my mum is no longer here to support me. I have a timber floor, which isn’t even relevant, and a space for my schoolbag. In essence, my room is exactly what you’d expect from any normal teenager’s. 

The shrunken’s birdcage is in the far corner by my window. It used to house my two budgies, but I haven’t told my foster parents that I’d let the birds go yet and they still buy me bird seed. The shrunken are pretty much just a name I made up for the tiny people. Mum and I have used that term since the beginning. People probably think I’m mental and cruel for imprisoning them, but if they had suffered the way I had, maybe they would understand. It’s not like I have the life of dreams, after all. 

The occupants of the birdcage are Marcus, Ebony, Russel, Harriet, Abigail and James. I hate everything about them and only talk to them when I need to. Their company bothers me, more than it probably should. It used to be different with Marcus, but now I think their kind is disgusting. They hate me, but I don’t care. That’s how I want it to be. They can try to kill me for all I care. Maybe that would end my pain…  Ugh. These negative thoughts are beginning to get to my brain. 
Anyway, I was looking at my mum’s files… They were kept in a large blue cardboard folder and contained pictures of all the recorded shrunken in the world. I flicked through the pages lazily, scanning Marcus’s for a second. A feeling entered the back of my brain. Sorrow. It never reached my thoughts though. It was caged up, like the rest of my emotions. All I let free were hatred and anger. 

Nothing else mattered. 

Marcus in his pictures looked so different. His eyes were bright and happy, filled with colour and he was smiling with the enthusiasm that I used to admire during our younger years. His face was sprinkled with freckles and his sandy blonde hair was vibrant and roughly trimmed. Now my old friend is pasty and dull, without any hope left in his tiny little heart. 

I refuse to let myself pity them. They were there because they deserved it, simple as that. 
I continued looking through the profiles of the other shrunken, stopping at a thin, brown haired girl with dimples and pale skin. Funny; I’d never heard of her before. Maybe she lived in America or something. Most of the shrunken were there, seeing as mum and I had once called the USA home. I was lucky as hell to have got my hands on six of them. 

The girl’s name was Amy. A last name wasn’t given; maybe mum didn’t know much about her. She was sixteen. Didn’t look it, I noticed. She had a doll’s face and looked more like an innocent child than anything. I shrugged to myself and kept skimming through the files. The faces  flickered past my eyes and I forced myself to memorise them all. A young man in his twenties named Mark. A woman, Suzy, with two children growing up to quickly around her.  I felt a dull pang of the memories flooding to my thoughts, as I looked over each profile. I saw mum explaining her folio to me during my childhood, showing me her ‘miracles’, which she used to nickname the shrunken.

I pushed them away. 

They just pulled the hole in my heart open wider. 
And nobody could stitch it back up.

****

Mum carried me upstairs after dinner, with Gabby following close behind. Max hung with us at first, but muttered something about TV and jogged to the next room eventually. 

“Ten minutes, then shower!” Mum called out to him as he left, successfully splitting my eardrums. She dropped me off gently onto her bed with Gabby and went to have her own shower. I sat down awkwardly on the soft doona and sighed, the particularly adventurous day catching up on my weary brain. 

“Do you sleep here?” Gabby asked me, the silence of the room shattering. I laughed and shook my head at the mere thought of sleeping in a regular sized bed. 

“I would sleep here, but mum rolls over in her sleep so it’s unlikely for me to survive the night.” I explained, flopping onto my back amongst the soft white doona.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Gabby giggled. 

A thought struck me, and I sprang back to my feet, ankles sinking into the cotton ocean below. “Wanna see my room?” I asked, pointing to the bookshelf by the door. Gabby stared at it for a few minutes as I lay back down again to rest my aching muscles. 

“Nice paint job.” She finally said, and the absurdity of the whole situation forced a laugh out of my mouth.

“Thanks. Did it myself.” 

"Neat." 

Gabby sighed, and stretched out on mum's bed beside me. Her weight sent me on a bit of an incline on the mattress at first, but as she rolled over, it flattened itself out. I stumbled over the thick blankets so that was in line with her face and settled myself down beside her. 

“Thanks, Gabby.” I whispered; I figured I didn’t need to shout because her ear was one: only slightly smaller than me and two, I was lying right beside it. 

She frowned. “What for?”

I paused to stare up at the ceiling before responding. “For hanging out with me, I guess. For accepting me, despite the obvious.” I said, drowsiness beginning to take over.

Gabby sighed. “You know, Amy, you’re such a strong person, and that makes me guilty, because the reason my mother sent me here was because I’ve been sad lately with my life. She thought meeting you and seeing your ‘struggle’ would help me appreciate what I have." Her words trailed off, before she continued in a quieter tone:  "I guess I  needed another Marcus in my life  to give me my strength.” 

I swallowed, not really knowing what to say at this point. There it was again: The mention of the ever so famous 'Marcus'. Man; I really wish I could've met that guy. “It’s not as bad as it seems though, being like me." I said eventually. "I’m happy with who I am, and it's pretty much all I know. That’s all that matters.” I said. And to be honest with myself, I think I meant it. 
“You’re right, you know. I’ve just been stressed with school and stuff. That’s all.” She admitted. 
“You go to public school? What’s it like?” I asked instantly, changing our pretty morbid topic. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes but then sighed. 

“School is good. I have a few okay friends. I go to a small school though so it’s hard to meet new people.” 

“Yeah? What school?” I asked. 

“St Agatha’s. It’s catholic.” Gabby replied. “It’s good cause there are no uniforms.” She added, and I swear that the smile that lit up my faced at that point was wider than the limits of my jaw. 
“Hey, I’m going to St Agatha’s after the break. Maybe you could, you know, let me hang out with you and your friends. It’s up to you of course… I just don’t think I’ll make any friends otherwise.” The words spilled out, like they always do with me. It must be a Leebeck thing, I guess. 

Gabby didn’t need to think about my request for long. In seconds, she'd turned around to face me and smiled. “Of course, Amy! Geeze, I wouldn’t leave you on your own anyway!” She said, and the reassurance of having someone around to look out for me made me relieved beyond belief. I actually allowed myself to relax, as I muttered my next words.

“The only bad thing is that I’m not allowed to do sport or music. Instruments are way too big. And… if someone hit me with a soccer ball… I would probably die.” My cheeks went red as I spoke. 

“Lucky you,” Gabby mumbled. “Sport sucks.” 

“If I was as big as you, I would try everything.” I laughed. "Seriously! Sport sounds awesome!"

I tried to shrug the whole situation off, just as I pictured Marcus doing. It never did any good to fantasise being a normal size. I would try everything, though, if those particular dreams came true. The first thing I would do was get a licence and travel the world. Naturally, it would feel smaller than it does now, but I want an adventure.

As for reality? I don't exactly have a life plan. It wouldn’t change much, after all. I’d always need someone to help me around to avoid being trampled. I used to dream of becoming a builder and creating myself a home, but I can’t even lift a tennis ball without help. 

"Well, I'm off to bed." I said, getting to my feet and hobbling towards the edge of the bed. With practiced movements, I slid off and quickly grabbed the thick doona to soften my fall. My toes touched the wooden floor and I lowered myself to the ground, muscles straining from the effort. Gabby sat up and watched my actions with an expression that looked like curiosity as I climbed into my bookshelf and wrapped myself in my blankets. 

“Stop staring at me, you perve!" I laughed, as she gazed almost fondly at me in bed.

She rolled her eyes and stood up. "Sorry, sorry! I'm leaving!" I smiled to myself as she bolted out of the room like a maniac. We had more in common than I'd first perceived.

I wrapped the blankets tighter around me and let the darkness close in. I knew that tomorrow would be the same; a day where I felt so fragile and weak. And small. I know I'll feel that way every day. It's just a part of who I am. Who I'll always be. Until that is, someone, most likely by accident, will kill me.