â€‹Eliza awoke to the sound of breaking glass. As she shot up into a sitting position, she was dazzled, blinded by light. The moon shone into her room like a celestial spotlight, bleaching her vision.

    Glass crunched. Her window had been smashed clear through. Eliza shook her head, shedding sleep. She must still be dreaming. What could possibly drop through the window of an apartment on the 19th floor of a building?

    Cold air pouring in from outside hit her like a bucket of ice. Eliza shivered. Maybe this wasn't a dream after all. Pushing the covers away, she moved to get out of bed. Whatever had happened, she'd better start cleaning up after it.

    Musical whispers of sound ghosted through the room. On the floor, glass fragments shifted. Eliza froze. There was something else in the room; An animal maybe. Eliza began to worry, despite all her self-directed urges to keep calm. What was she going to do? What if, God forbid, the thing were rabid?

    She looked back towards the window, her heart stopping instantly. A gaunt shadow rose slowly before her bed. The swollen moon illuminated the figure, transforming it into an ethereal shadow-puppet. It was eerily beautiful, in a way that sent chills down Eliza's spine.  

    There was someone in Eliza's home!

    Eliza tried hard to hold back all the thoughts struggling to surge through her mind. It was no good. There was someone in her apartment and if she just stood back, who knows what would happen?

   Eliza Panik did what she did best. She panicked.

   Like lightning, she snatched her cell phone from her end-table and lobbed it as hard as she could at the intruder. There was a harsh yelp of pain and the shadow swayed. Right on target. Grabbing the next object her hand found, the T.V. remote belonging to a small set near her bed, Eliza chucked it, her fingers crushing the buttons as she plucked it up.

    Calm light flowed into the room, the shadows rising back into the third dimension. Eliza gasped. The intruder, now attempting to lean on the foot of Eliza's bed, was a young woman. She shuffled her feet on the glass-coated floor for want of leverage. Lifting a hand, she rubbed at a bright mark on her forehead and winced. "You throw hard," She muttered in a gravelly voice, "That actually hurt."

    Eliza shrieked, the sound piercing through the night air. Now not only was there an intruder, there were stains on her perfect blue comforter! The woman seized, her eyes wild with urgency. "Be quiet! They'll hear!' She hissed. Who is she afraid of hearing? Eliza wondered, the police? Neighbors? People who would help her?

    She had readied herself for another scream when her eyes found the source of the black, inky stain spreading across the foot of her bed. She fell breathless. The substance flowed straight out of a massive gash in the intruder's gut. Noticing Eliza's gaping stare, the intruder shrugged. "It's not so bad," she said, "It's just a flesh wound."

     Then she grimaced, eyes rolling in their sockets, and sunk heavily to the floor.

     For the second time that night, Eliza shrieked.

    Her heart in her throat, Eliza peered over the edge of the bed. The woman was slumped face-down on the carpet, surrounded by a field of chipped glass. Eliza could very well scream again, but rationality finally conquered hysteria. She was going to call the police right now and they would come and then everything would be fine.

    She reached for her cell phone, only to grasp at empty space. Oh, right, she'd thrown it.

   Gingerly, Eliza stepped out of bed and into a pair of well-worn slippers. She didn't particularly feel like cutting her feet open. Nudging shards aside with her toes, she made her way across the small room towards the shattered window. The cool night air poured inside, sending a chill up Eliza's spine. She bent over in the semi-darkness, hunting with her hands for anything resembling a phone, but to no avail. She turned the light on, but still she couldn't find it. Maybe she'd thrown it out the window by mistake.

   A strangled groan came from the prone figure on the carpet. Eliza jumped, the sound almost shocking. What on earth would she do?

    Suddenly, she felt a strange compulsion to help the injured stranger, the woman who had just smashed her window and bled all over her brand-new blanket. She could still run and get the neighbors, but something told her that wouldn't be right. This woman was clearly a criminal, but she needed Eliza's help.

    But how do I do this? Eliza thought. She paced around the body, careful to avoid the glass. Bending down, she took the nameless woman under the arms and pulled hard. Surprisingly, she was able to lift the woman without much resistance. Moving carefully, like a tight-rope walker, she backed out of her room and down the short hallway to the bathroom. She could hear ragged breathing issuing from the body. Whoever this woman was, she was still alive.

    The only place Eliza could think to deposit the body was the bathtub. Struggling to lower the woman without injuring her further, Eliza managed to lay her in the basin. She looked like a corpse at an open-casket funeral, her high-boned cheeks deathly pale, a serene expression on her face. Her hair was very long, and for the most part loose, excepting the bottom, where it was twisted into a braid. Strangely, it was silver, like a freshly minted dime and it shone under the light of the bathroom's florescent bulbs. What kind of hair dye could do that?

    She wore shredded black rags. Was she a ninja? Eliza wondered, grabbing her meager first-aid kit from under the sink. While her own mother had enough creams, pills and bandages to run a pharmacy out of the bathroom, Eliza herself only owned a small amount of supplies. She found herself wondering if it would be enough.

    Bending low over the tub, Eliza clicked open the plastic latch of the kit. Suddenly, the woman stirred, her eyes flickering open. They were sky-blue and endless, seeming to fill the room. "No police," she begged, "No roommates, no neighbors, no nothing. Just you." Her eyes slid shut again, like Venetian blinds blocking out the sky.

    "And who says I'll listen to you?" Eliza muttered weakly. But something about the way the woman spoke held her fast. She probably didn't have a choice now; She'd have to do this on her own.

    She didn't have any roommates anyway, which was a good thing. Most other people were so messy. Eliza herself would be the first person to admit she was a neat freak.

    The wound in the woman's ribs was deep, but not as bad as Eliza had been expecting. Even cleaned of the black, tar-like substance by a fistful of cotton-balls it was still gruesome to look at. Armed with a gauze pad, she swabbed the wound with whatever weak store-brand antibiotics she possessed and set about bandaging the laceration.

    The woman's nails were long and pointed, vaguely resembling claws. Eliza's mind began to truly wander. When, or if, the woman woke up, Eliza wanted answers. She also wanted a fixed window, clean sheets and an empty bathtub, but that clearly wasn't happening.

    Once she had finished wrapping the wound, strips of white gauze clumsily pasted underneath the woman's tatters, Eliza decided was was really nothing else she could do. The time on the stove read "6:24". She really couldn't go back to sleep now, even if she was, by some miracle, tired. It was Saturday. She wouldn't have to attend any classes or lectures, and nothing was due until Monday.

    Finding herself back in the bathroom, Eliza glanced down at the comatose figure in the tub. She thought hard. What would her mother do?

    May Panik had been a single mother. After her boyfriend, a "Wham-Bam Thank You Ma'am" kind of guy had had his fun, he left May to fend for herself with a baby, Eliza, on the way.

    Eliza truly thought her mother was the strongest woman in the world. Not only had she raised Eliza by herself, and done a fantastic job, but she'd more than filled the space a second parent should have taken up. When Eliza was young, May seemed like a superhero to the little girl. What would she do in a situation like this?

    But the truth was, Eliza was lost. For a start, she thought, this woman certainly can't recover in the bathtub. Pulling herself away from the enigmatic woman, Eliza went back to her bedroom. The moon had set, the first rays of sun beginning to creep over the horizon. Finding her thick, black glasses, Eliza slid them onto her face. Now she could get started properly.

    Once she had recovered a spare set of blankets from the depths of her closet, Eliza began to re-make the bed. Folding the cast off sheets, she placed them neatly in a hamper. Even if they're dirty, she thought, it doesn't hurt to be extra tidy.

    As soon as her bed was ready, Eliza moved the intruder into it. The woman's clothes were clearly ill-fitting and dirty, but Eliza doubted she had anything in the woman's size. She was at least a few inches taller than Eliza, her bones rising up at odd angles. She had a peaceful look about her as she slept. She has no right to that, Eliza thought grimly, heading for her postage-stamp kitchen.

    She was hungry, but surprise, surprise, there was absolutely nothing to eat. Eliza began to feel the panic rising up on her again. I am a college student, she thought, trying to calm herself down. I am 19 and I live in my own home and I should be able to deal with anything life throws at me.

     Except when that thing is a person through my window and no eggs or milk or bread or even a cookie for God's sake.

    Eliza dressed for the day in leggings and a t-shirt, running a brush through her blonde hair. Presentable, she decided. Taking some money from a jar in her room, Eliza threw a glance at the sleeping figure in her bed. She would be back from the store soon enough, with food and medical products. She checked the time again. Any decent convenience store would be open at 6:37 in the morning.

    The elevator ride was long and slow, but soon Eliza was out on the street. For March, it was surprisingly warm. The breeze from the bay filled Eliza's lungs. The city was starting to wake up around her, the air laced with the sounds of urban life; cars, street vendors, people everywhere waking up to meet the world.

    Screw New York and Paris and London; Boston was Eliza's favorite city and she wouldn't live anywhere else if you paid her to.

    A nearby Handy Pantry had what she was looking for and soon she was headed back to her apartment, the morning sun glimmering on the horizon.  

    Before she even walked through the door, Eliza knew something was wrong. From behind the solid wood, she could hear the indignant yowling of her pet cat, Willow. Willow was a quiet animal and virtually unnoticeable. To hear the cat so upset was unsettling.

    Preparing herself for the worst, Eliza unlocked the door and pushed it open.

    Standing in Eliza's kitchen, holding Eliza's cat by the scruff of her neck, was the young woman who only hours before had been grievously wounded and unable to stand, let alone crash through windows properly.

    The cat and the woman seemed to be engaged in a argument of sorts. Narrowing her eyes, she glared at the cat, finally dumping the animal to the ground, dismissively. Willow ran to her master, curling herself behind Eliza's legs in fright.

    "That thing doesn't like me very much." Said the woman as she flung open a cabinet. Eliza let her groceries slide to the tile floor and scooped the cat into her arms. "Her name," She replied, "Is Willow. And she probably has a good reason for it."

    The woman laughed, the unnatural sound grating and wild. "All I did was ask where you kept the peanut butter." Eliza was stunned. Not only was the intruder up and functioning, she was also ransacking Eliza's obviously empty kitchen for peanut butter!

    And how on earth would the poor cat tell her where it was?

    "I don't think Willow can talk." Eliza commented. The woman turned to her, eyebrows raised."What's in the bags?' She asked. Eliza shrugged. "Bread, eggs, powerful antibiotics. The usual."

    As the woman approached, Eliza couldn't help but open her mouth again. "How are you alright? What happened last night? Am I on a T.V. show or something?" The woman only snorted and bent down to dg through the bags. "I heal fast. Yeah, I could lie and say that wasn't totally embarrassing, but I won't and it was. I guess I'll say thank you though."

    Pulling out a carton of eggs, she rose and strode back to the counter. "I mean really, having to rely on a human to help me out. I thought I was beyond that." She shot a pointed glance at Eliza, who had taken a seat on the couch. "By the way, I can't go on calling you 'That Human' forever. You got a real name or what?"

    Eliza huffed. "It's Eliza." She paused. "Are you really okay? That looked bad." The woman looked up. "I'm fine." She assured the girl, extending her index finger and slicing through the layers of cheap gauze covering her wound. True to her word, there wasn't even a scar left behind on her pale skin. "Ta-da!"

    Shocked, Eliza shook her head in disbelief. "How the hell did you do that?" The woman didn't answer, instead grinning crookedly and extending a hand.

    "Uso. My name's Uso." She said, matter-of-factly.

    "So can I crash here or what?"

    Eliza was speechless. She settled for taking Uso hand and shaking. Uso's blue eyes shone. "I'll take that as a yes."

    "You still haven't answered my question." Eliza said, "Why are you here?"

    "That," Uso sighed, "Is a very long and confusing story. For you, anyway. You wouldn't even believe me. That's what humans are known for, and I couldn't even prove myself. I'm pretty weak right now."

    Eliza frowned. Why did this woman keep calling her a human? Wasn't that just stating the obvious? And what did she mean, she couldn't prove herself?

    Turning back to the eggs, Uso grimaced. "Like right now, I'm gonna have to cook these the normal way. On the stove!" She laughed to herself.

    Eliza felt something spark inside her. "You can steal my food right after you've fixed my window and cleaned my blankets!" She spat. She instantly regretted it. Her mother her taught her to always try her best to stay calm when dealing with difficult people.

    To Eliza's surprise, Uso only shrugged. "Okay. Why didn't you say so?' She rolled her shoulders back. "I can feel it now." Feel what? Eliza wondered.

    Maybe Uso was a nutcase, Eliza thought. She could be one of those people that rappel down random buildings. That one guy really did think he was Spiderman, she reminded herself. Still, when Uso walked back down the hall to the bedroom, Eliza followed.

    Hands on her hips, Uso surveyed the scene. "Hm. This one's an easy fix." She said. "Oh, and you might want to take a seat."

    Uso raised her arms and Eliza's jaw almost hit the floor.

    The shards of glass had been lifted off the carpet in a glowing whirlwind, enveloped in purple light. With a flick of her wrist, Uso snapped the pieces back into their frame.

    Dropping the cat, Eliza went directly to the window. In awe, she rapped her knuckles against the clear surface. Solid. "So," Uso said nonchalantly, "Where are those blankets?"

    Once again at a loss for words, Eliza led Uso out onto the apartment's small balcony. The balcony was Eliza's favorite thing about the apartment. It gave a perfect view of the city around the tall building. Usually, when weather permitted, Eliza would eat her meals outside.

    Eliza had put the laundry basket outside, just in case the contents developed an odor before laundry day. Lifting the soiled comforter from the basket, Uso traced her fingers over the stains, trailing flashes of purple light. The stains evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace of ever having existed.

    For what seemed like the thousandth time since having woken up that morning, Eliza was utterly floored. A few rays of the steadily rising Sun burst from a gap between two buildings, the inferno landing on the balcony.

     Eliza felt weak. "Who are you?" She asked timidly.

    "My full name," Said Uso, "Is Uso the Untruth, of the Deep Woods and Sky, Master of the Bay State and all surrounding areas, the Mistress of Avarice,

    "And the seventh libran, a Daughter of Twilight in authority of all realms; all things, both light and dark." The light rising around her twisted and fluctuated, seeming to bow before her.

    "But you, dear Eliza, can simply call me Uso."