Amy ran up to her room, slammed the door closed, and jumped onto the bed. Luckily, Andrew didn't seem to be around. She was sure she couldn't handle that. She put her hands on either side of Miranda's head. Help me please, Miranda.

She tried to blank her mind, to be as receptive as possible. Miranda, I need you. I need you. I need you.

For a long time, she felt nothing. Suddenly, images flooded her mind. Unexpected images. She didn't understand.

And then she did. Her mouth gaped. Is that the key to Dad? His button to push? Will that work?

But I don't have a letter from the Academy. I have to have that.

She stiffened suddenly. Yes! Yes!

She jumped off the bed and recovered her car keys. She fumbled in her desk drawer and extracted her copy of the slavery contract. She thought about taking the pictures in the yellow envelope. No, she decided. I don't need those. Minutes later she was racing to the Academy.

"Could I see Ms. Bennett? Is she here?" Amy bit her lip, looking almost desperate. Minutes later, she was in Vonda Bennett's office.

Ms. Bennett shook hands with her. "It's nice to see you again, Amy. You understand I can't tell you anything yet, right?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. But I wonder if you could do something for me."

"What is it?"

"You have a form that an applicant's father would have to sign when she's accepted, right?"

"Well, yes, but we'd usually send that out with the letter of acceptance..."

"Oh, I understand that, ma'am. But could you give me a copy of that form? I'm not sure if my dad will be home next week, and I'd like to get that form in as soon as I can." She rationalized the fib by telling herself that there was no way to be altogether sure that her father would be available. Anything could happen, right?

Ms. Bennett looked at Amy for a long time. "I see what you're saying, Amy. If I give it to you, do you understand that doesn't mean you've been accepted?

"Yes, ma'am. This is just in case."

Amy's heart pounded as Vonda Bennett opened a drawer in her desk. "I can't really see a reason not to give you this. As long as you do understand you're not admitted yet. We just haven't decided one way or another."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll hold onto it until I get a letter from you."

Ms. Bennett pointed at the form. "You see that it has to be notarized."

Amy nodded. "That's no problem, ma'am. Thank you so much."

Amy walked into the main office of Cameron Industries. Her father's secretary, Miss Barron, looked up as she entered. "Oh, hi, Amy. Do you need to see your father?"

Amy nodded. "If I could, please."

While Amy was waiting, she quickly took out the Academy's permission form and filled in her name on it. Miss Barron looked up from her phone, and nodded to Amy. "You can go in."

Her father looked up from his desk. "Is everything okay, Amy?"

"I think so, Dad. Could we sit on the couch?" Amy didn't want to talk to him as he sat behind his big desk, as if she were trying to sell him something. She wanted, as nearly as possible, for the first time in her life, to talk to him as an equal.

It was strange, sitting beside him on the sofa in his office. Always before, even at home, she had felt as if he was giving her an audience, as one of the subjects of his kingdom. She took a deep breath. "Daddy..." She hadn't called him that in years. She felt there was a good reason for doing so now.

He looked at her puzzled. "What is it, sweetheart?"

She turned to face him fully. "Remember at Miranda's hanging... the way everybody looked at Mr. Warren? Her father?"

That had been the subject of Amy's mental images when she touched Miranda's head. Again and again, from every angle, she was seeing Kevin Warren.

Amy's father nodded tentatively, not sure yet where this was going.

Amy went on, "I mean, the way everybody saw how proud he was... not just that, though. It's like... everybody was in awe of him. Because they felt that way about Miranda. I think everyone looked like they thought he had done such a great job, raising such an amazing daughter. You saw that, didn't you? I mean, you did so many things for him! You weren't expecting to do that, were you? The way you let him take such nice cuts of her meat, and then you let him take your role in the play! Why did you do that, Daddy?"

Preston Cameron looked towards the window of his office, deep in thought, and finally nodded. "I know what you're saying. It did seem that he deserved it. His daughter was something special."

Amy leaned closer to him. "Daddy -- would you like to see people look at you that same way? With nothing to do with all your money, or everything else you've accomplished..." Amy waved her arm to indicate everything around her. "...but for a different reason? That everyone thought you had really done well, raising a talented daughter?"

Preston looked directly at Amy for the first time. "What are you saying, honey?"

"I'm saying... if your daughter could put on such a special show, just like Miranda did... wouldn't that mean something to you? Seeing people look at you just like they looked at Mr. Warren?"

Her father's eyes sprang wide open. "Honey, have you been admitted to the Academy?"

She held his eyes. "Not yet, Daddy. Almost. I'm really close, though. I've been through the interview with the dean, and I think I have a really good chance."

"I thought... well, aren't you going to be Andrew's breeding slave?" Preston seemed to be trying to keep up with the shifting landscape of his daughter's life.

Amy shook her head. "I haven't been sure that I could get into the Academy. I had to have a fall-back position. You understand?"

Preston did indeed understand a cautious approach to business. Then a thought occurred to him. "Andrew already put down a deposit on a house for the two of you."

Amy nodded. "If I get in the Academy, I'll pay him back the thousand dollars. I know he was counting on me being there for him, but this is bigger."

"So you don't really want to be his slave?"

"Well, it's not my first choice. Here, let me show you something..." She pulled the envelope with the contract out of her purse. Taking a deep breath, she removed it from the envelope and let him read it, holding the breath.

Preston bit his lip. "This is dated a couple of months ago."

Amy nodded. "I've known for a long time what I really wanted to do. Andrew understands that too. He knew I wouldn't sign this if it didn't say my number one priority was to go to the Hanging Academy. Daddy?" Her hand covered his. "It's really, really important to me."

"But... well, you know I was hoping for grandchildren."

Amy sat up straighter. "Daddy, if it works out that way, if I don't get in the Academy, I promise I'll give you the best, sweetest grandchildren anyone ever had. But if I don't do that, you know Andrew will have kids. Right?" She held his eyes until he nodded.

She took a deep breath. "Daddy, this is what I want more than anything in the world. If I don't get it, then I belong to Andrew, totally and completely. But before anything else, I want this. I want it for me, and I want it for you too. So people will think, look at Preston Cameron. He's done a lot of things, but wow, his daughter put on a show I'll always remember."

Her father was silent for a time, looking out the window. He turned back to Amy at last. "You need me to do something, don't you?"

Amy put the contract back in her purse and pulled out the Academy form. "You understand, I'm not admitted yet. But if I am, then I have to have your permission to go there."

She handed him the form. It had the Academy letterhead, and looked very official, as indeed it was. She held her breath again, watching him intently as he read it over. An endless time seemed to pass.

Amy tried to read his face, to judge his leanings on the issue. When she felt nearly sure the balance was starting to tip her way, it was time to give it one last push. She pointed to one line on the form, the one in which the Academy offered the student's parents some remuneration in return for enslaving their daughter. With a playful smile on her face, she said, "See, they'll even give you money for me. Who knows when that might come in handy?"

Her father burst out laughing, something Amy had seen rarely in her life. He got up from the sofa and pushed the button that connected him with his secretary. "Miss Barron, could you get a notary up here from Human Resources?"

Amy pumped her fists, saying silently, Yes, yes, yes!! Miranda, I did it!!

Amy rested on her bed, smiling as she heard Andrew come up the stairs. She knew he'd look in on her.

Andrew grinned from the doorway. "So, what'd you think of the place?"

She looked up at him disinterestedly. "Looks pretty typical for slave quarters. I don't expect I'll see it again, though. I'm going to the Academy."

His eyes suddenly narrowed. "You got a letter?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. Next week, I guess."

His smile returned. "Doesn't matter. I'm telling Dad about the contract tonight." His eyes glowed, waiting for her reaction.

She shook her head. "Don't bother. He's seen it."

She loved the way his face fell. "What?"

She sat up and looked directly at him. "I showed him the contract. He knows I want to go to the Academy. He's signed a form to say it's okay."

She almost laughed out loud at seeing Andrew's jaw drop. "You said haven't been admitted yet. Does... does he know that?"

She smiled benignly. "He knows everything, Andrew."

She finally did laugh as he ran downstairs. He was gone long enough to verify everything with his father, and finally trudged back up.

She called out, "See, Andrew?"

He reappeared at her door, and snarled at her, "This doesn't change anything. You still don't know if you're in or out. And if you're out, you're mine."

She nodded. "I've got a deal for you."

"No! I'm not letting you out of the contract!"

She shook her head. "It's not about that. Look, it's probably still a week before I hear anything. I want to propose something. Will you listen?"

He glared at her for at least a minute, and finally muttered, "I'm listening."

She nodded again. "Okay. Look, I can't do anything about it if I'm not admitted. I understand that. I belong to you then. The law will back you up. Dad will back you up. I'd be a runaway slave if I tried to get away, and I can't go anywhere without you finding me. I get that."

Grudgingly, he nodded. "Keep going."

"I want you to stay away from me until I hear from the Academy. Here's what I'll do in return. If I get in, then I'll give you the thousand you put down on deposit on the house. I told Dad I'd do that, and I will."

"And if you don't get in?"

She took a deep breath. "Have you got the shackles and chains for the corners of your bed yet? You know what I'm talking about. Like in the drawing. I know you wouldn't wait till the last minute to get them. You're planning to use them next week."

His eyes glowed. "I've got them. So?"

"And a collar? You've got a slave collar already, right?"

He was breathing faster, seeming to anticipate where this was headed. "Of course."

"Could you bring that in here, please?"

Andrew blinked in surprise, and returned to his bedroom, reappearing moments later, bearing a heavy metal collar similar to the ones Amy had seen in the drawings. "Okay, here it is. So?"

Amy looked over the collar reluctantly, biting her lip. It was one of the kind without a release mechanism. At present it had plastic stays to keep it from closing accidentally. Once in place around her neck, it would lock permanently, never to be removed. Amy closed her eyes and shivered. "Are the shackles self-locking? I could put them on myself without a key, right?"

Andrew was now sure where this was headed, judging from the sudden bulge near his belt. "Yeah. So?"

"Okay. If you leave me alone for now, don't even talk to me until I hear from the Academy, don't track me when I go out, then here's what I'll do. I already said what I'd do if they say yes, and there's something in it for you in that case. If they say no..." She paused, not believing she was saying this, but knowing everything was lost anyway if the word from the Academy was negative, "...then I won't fight you. I'll make it easy for you. Go ahead and install the chains on the bedposts of your bed. If the Academy says no, I'll sign over the ownership of my car to you, and leave my debit card and PIN number here on the bed. You'll have everything that's mine. And then I'll strip naked, go into your room, cuff myself spread out on the bed like in the picture, and wait for you. I'll leave the slave collar on your bed so you can put it on me yourself." She looked at him, watching his expression. "Okay?"

He stood looking at her, gradually breathing harder as the mental images took over his mind. Finally he said, "Deal."

Amy spent Saturday, Sunday, and Monday going through all her possessions, deciding how to dispose of them. She threw a lot of things away, while setting some aside to give to friends -- in that category, mostly clothes. She started a list of everything she wanted to take with her to the Academy, starting with Miranda's head. There were several small odds and ends that were her memories of her mother. Those went on the list too.

Andrew stayed out of the house most of the time. When both he and Amy were present, they circulated through the house like planets in entirely different orbits. Even at dinner on Sunday night, Andrew managed to hold back from responding to anything Amy was saying. Her dad had a lot of questions about the Academy. Amy answered them while Andrew picked at his girlmeat and potatoes.

Amy relished the freedom from Andrew's infliction of himself on her life, but shuddered thinking of what images were passing through his head. The things he was planning to do with her if the news from the Academy was bad.

Late Tuesday morning, James, as was his custom if he found the mail before Amy or Andrew did, sorted through it. He came upstairs with some pieces for Andrew, and dropped two envelopes addressed to Amy on her bed.

Amy was sitting on the floor of her closet, going through the last remaining possessions in it and dropping them into boxes according to whether she'd discard them, keep them, or give them to friends -- several boxes in the last category, each with a friend's name on it. Taking a break, she stood up, stretched her back, and went to see what mail she'd got.

The first of the two letters was from her bank, a monthly statement. She had torn the envelope open before her eye caught the return address on the other letter.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. I don't think this could be good, she thought, getting it this early.

She picked up the envelope with shaking fingers and sat on her bed, staring at the ornate printed "The Hanging Academy" in the upper left, the "Miss Amy Cameron" with her address in the lower right. She felt the letter with the tips of her fingers as she bent it. I don't think there can even be two pages in there, she told herself fretfully. There should at least be that parental consent form besides the letter offering admission. This really isn't good.

She tried to insert her finger into the tiny space of the flap that was unsealed, to tear the letter open, but her finger was shaking too badly. She spent several minutes looking for a letter opener, and finally just ripped the end as carefully as she could, trying not to damage the contents.

It was, indeed, a single sheet. She tried not to unfold it, but it unbent on its own far enough that the words "We regret to inform you" were seared into her eyeballs before the rest of the words were blurred by tears.

She didn't even notice herself sliding off the edge of the bed to sit heavily onto the floor, the bed at her back, hugging herself, her face buried against her knees as she cried. And that was even before the full weight of the news sank in. Andrew. She was his slave as of this moment.

I know he'll keep me in that little closet, her inner voice wailed. Naked, in the dark, chained so I can hardly move. Waiting there until the next time he wants to use me.

She could feel her bladder letting go, the warm dampness spreading through her panties.

She looked up, sniffling, her breathing still erratic with sobs. The boxes. I can ask Dad to get those to the right people. And throw away the stuff I'd been going to take with me. Those things only mean anything to me. Except Miranda's head. Andrew will want that back.

That thought brought a fresh round of crying. On top of everything else, Amy had failed Miranda.

The collar, she thought. I'd better get that out. Andrew kept his end of the deal. I have to keep mine. It doesn't matter. I can't get out of it anyway.

She retrieved the collar from the dresser drawer in which she'd put it and dropped it on the bed, then stood shakily in front of the bed and began taking off her clothes, automatically throwing the soiled panties in the hamper. I don't need these anymore, she thought. I'll never wear clothes again.

Naked, she knelt by the bed, dropped her upper body onto it and started crying again. The image of that drawing, the first one in the yellow envelope, showing Andrew on top of her as she lay stretched out helpless on his bed, took shape and texture in her mind. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to shut the image out, but it remained. That's really going to happen, she moaned to herself. Tonight. "Our first night together." In just a few hours that will really be happening.

I need to go to his room now, she thought. Cuff myself to his bed and wait for him.

She tried to make herself get up, go to Andrew's room. Just a few minutes, she promised herself. Just a last few minutes in freedom, in my own room. Then I'll go.

She felt something scrape lightly against her fingers, and she opened her eyes to see what it was. The Academy letter. Her fingers reached out for it on their own. She was somehow unwillingly compelled to look at it again, as a soldier after a battle must keep examining a fatal wound. She unfolded it to read it fully.

Her mind was so jangled that several minutes seemed to pass during which a tiny voice within her could only say, something's wrong here, while the rest of her mind ignored it. Gradually the tiny voice shouted louder. Something wasn't registering right.

At last the image her eyes were seeing filtered through the debris of her mind into her consciousness.

The letter, at the top, was addressed to "Miss Marla Cannady," at an address entirely different from Amy's.

Amy reached out convulsively for the envelope, saw again the "Miss Amy Cameron" printed on it. Of course the envelope is addressed to me, she thought. That's how it got here. But it had somebody else's letter in it.

Her breath heaving in and out of her, Amy grabbed for her phone, making five attempts to punch in the Admissions Office number with shaking fingers before she finally got it right, feeling herself start to pass out from hyperventilation while the call rang through.

"Admissions. Can I help you?"

Amy had to get her breath under control before she could speak. "C-Could I talk to Ms. Bennett, please?"

Amy felt her chest, feeling the pounding of her heart, trying to will it to slow down as her call was transferred. "This is Vonda Bennett. Can I help you?"

"M-Ms. Bennett, this is Amy Cameron."

"Oh, it's nice..." The voice on the phone paused. "Are you okay, Amy?"

"I - I don't know. I got a letter from you today."

The voice was now very puzzled. "We haven't sent one to you, Amy. Are you sure it's from us?"

Amy nodded, as if Ms. Bennett could see that. "It's got your return address, and letterhead, and all that. The envelope was addressed to me, but inside the letter was for..." She looked at the letter again. "...Marla Cannady."

Amy heard a horrified gasp at the other end of the line, followed by a whispered, "Oh, no!"

"Ms. Bennett, is it possible the letters got mixed up in the envelopes? Like this Marla Cannady got mine?"

"No, Amy, nothing like that. Your letter hasn't even gone out yet. I've got it sitting right here on my desk with some others we were going to send out tomorrow. I think... let me check something."

Amy could hear Ms. Bennett striking keys on her computer keyboard, finally saying under her breath, "Oh, yes, that must be it." Aloud to Amy, she said, "Marla Cannady's name is right under yours in our applicant database. Sheila... I mean, somebody must have selected the wrong line on the screen when we were printing out envelopes. Oh, this is... I am so sorry, Amy. This never happened before. I feel so bad this happened! Listen, if you would, just destroy that letter, okay? We'll print out another one for Marla and get it out in the mail today."

Amy needed to clear her mind completely of her earlier panic. "So... I'm not rejected yet, right?"

"Amy..." The voice paused. "I wouldn't normally do this, but I know this upset you really badly, and that is completely our fault. I think we owe you a little bit beyond just apologizing. As I said, I have your letter right here. Would you like me to read it to you?"

Amy felt an excitement building within her that far exceeded her earlier despair in intensity. She was aware she could fall off a cliff if the coming news wasn't what it sounded like, but she had to hear. She said slowly, "Ohh-kayyy..."

With a slight smile in her voice, Ms. Bennett said, "This one is addressed to Miss Amy Cameron. And it starts out, 'Dear Amy: We are very happy to invite you to be a member of next year's entering class at...' "

Amy's arms shot straight up over her head, the phone in one of her hands so that she lost contact with the voice reading her letter to her, and she shouted out ecstatically at the top of her lungs. Feeling her fist clenching the phone, she hurriedly brought it back down to her ear. "I'm sorry, I was just... Oh, thank you so much!!!" A fresh stream of tears followed the tracks of the old ones down her face. "I promise I'll be the best... Oh!" She looked around the room. "I've got so many things I have to do! Ms. Bennett, will you still be in your office later, maybe about..." She looked at her clock. "...four?"

"I'll be here until five, Amy. And I'm glad I can be the first to tell you congratulations, and I want to say again how sorry I am about the mistake."

"Mistake? Oh, THAT." Amy had honestly forgotten. "Please don't worry about that. There's no way you could have made me any happier. I need to go now, but I'll see you later today."

"I'll be looking forward to seeing you again, Amy. Goodbye."

Amy said goodbye, closed the phone and stood up. She quickly tugged on her clothes, over fresh panties. First, she thought, about fifteen minutes more of closet stuff.

She actually finished the sorting in ten minutes, and took the discard box down to the trash bin downstairs. She came back up for her car keys, looking at the boxes of things she was giving away. She ran back down to ask James to get them to the right places -- she'd written phone numbers under the names.

She took out her phone and dialed, muttering under her breath as she heard it ring, "Be there be there be there..." As soon as it was answered, she shouted, "Scott? Alan?" She wasn't sure whether Scott or his roommate would pick up.

"It's me, Amy. Is everything okay?" Scott's voice.

She laughed happily. "Better than okay. Will you be there for a little while?"

"Sure. Should I ask what's up?"

Giggling, she said, "No, I'll surprise you. Since I'm sure you could never possibly guess what I'm this happy about."

He laughed. "No idea at all. Are you coming over now?"

"Be there in a few minutes. Is that okay?"

"Sure..." Amy lost the rest of what he had been going to say as she closed the phone and ran down to her car.