The apartment, Secrets felt, was not too bad. It came already furnished so she hadn’t needed to go out and buy anything herself before she could move in and it also saved her the trouble of having to pay for movers to come and set anything up. Her neighbors weren’t too loud either. One of them, the nice, single young woman next door, had even brought her a potted plant to welcome her.

Secrets was in the process of making a fruit basket to take over as a thank you when Misery returned from his shopping run. The kitchen where Secrets was working wasn’t visible from the front door and she had just enough time to put everything away before Misery could come and see what she was doing. It wasn’t that she disliked Misery, on the contrary she thought quite highly of him, but she knew him too well to trust that he’d leave well enough alone if he knew she was doing something nice for someone so close at hand.

That was the thing with Misery, of all the Earthly Personifications, he was one of the few who truly seemed to exemplify their role. Of course, Secrets knew there was no requirement to do that. It was one of the primary questions regarding the very purpose for their existence. She missed the older Personifications. They were the real thinkers, the really philosophical ones. The best she had these days was Trust and, well, he was just too content to live and let live. From what Misery had said of Sympathy, it sounded as though the girl was asking the right sort of questions, but she was far too emotionally connected to the answers. A good philosopher could ask the big questions without getting too attached. Those who did, like Sympathy, tended to spiral around in circles, unable to escape their own sense of self-doubt.

“They didn’t have everything on your list,” Misery stated as he entered the kitchen. Bags hung from each arm and it was a wonder how he’d been able to open the front door, laden as he was. “Ukrainian cooking must not be that common here,” he said with a smirk.

“That does not surprise me,” Secrets said and began helping Misery unload his burden. “What did they not have?”

“Kevas? Or however you pronounce that.”

“Kvass,” Secrets said.

“Yeah, and they also didn’t have fresh beets, only the canned stuff that you said not to bother with.”

Regardless of what she’d told Misery, about having assumed some of her shopping list wouldn’t be available, Secrets suspected that he was lying. It would be well within his nature to intentionally skip some of the items on her list. Of course, if he wanted to stay in her good graces he would need to keep that propensity to a minimum. In the time that they’d known one another, he had always that fine line, never quite going so far as to become too unpleasant to associate with while also being sufficiently interesting to be around that it made up for those inconvenient times.

“I’ll do the cooking tonight,” Misery offered as if on cue to smooth things over.

Secrets patted his arm and gave him a smile.

“That will be nice,” she said.

Together, they put away the groceries, filling the fridge and small cupboards. Secrets wasn’t sure how long they’d be there, a few months at the shortest, and she’d always hated looking at empty shelves at home.

“D’you know when Trust will be here?” Misery asked and his movements took on a sudden stiffness as though he were expecting Secrets to hit him and he wanted to brace himself before the blow.

It was a curious reaction on his part and Secrets didn’t quite understand it. He acted that way sometimes, usually when asking about the other Personifications that Secrets communicated with.

“You should calm down,” Secrets told him. “You do not need to be nervous.”

“I just don’t think he’d be happy to see me here so I’d like to be not here when he arrives.”

Secrets chose not to laugh. Misery was being silly, but he also didn’t know many of the others in the way that she did.

“Why does it matter what Trust thinks?” Secrets asked. “It will not stop him from going to the boy.”

“Do you know what he tells them? What he says about me?”

“Yes,” Secrets replied, her voice rising somewhat. “He tells them the truth. Some Earthly Personifications are nicer than others, just like normal people, and you are one who can be difficult to get along with.”

Misery clearly wanted to say something but he kept his mouth shut. Even still, his eyes burned and for a moment she could see the fury Misery worked so hard to conceal. The lapse in self control passed and Misery ran his hand over face and through his hair, breathing deeply and steadily as he regained his composure.

“What would you like for dinner, tonight?” he asked.

“I think something simple tonight,” Secrets said. “One of the package soups?”

“Sounds good.”

Misery set a pot in the sink and began filling it with water. As he did, Secrets gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder before moving to leave the kitchen. She reached the doorway when she thought better of her initial response to Misery’s question about Trust’s arrival and stopped, looking back at Misery who was now holding a soup packet in each hand and trying to decide which one to prepare.

“Trust usually arrives at night,” Secrets said. “He complains about sunlight in his eyes when he travels during the day. But if there are no flights at night he will come when he can come.”

Misery gave her a brief glance and a nod of thanks and Secrets left the kitchen. She still didn’t know exactly what Misery wanted out of all of this, but then again, if she did know then it wouldn’t be a secret and her curiosity would never have been piqued. A part of her was worried for the little boy she and Misery had found. If he really was Fear then he had a rough life ahead of him. She had been a young woman when the previous Fear had passed away. Only a few other Personifications had known Fear but they all had similar stories to tell. Fear had been nervous, paranoid, and often erratic, prone to sudden outbursts and occasional violence.

This new Fear, if he was indeed Fear, already seemed to exhibit some of those same traits, although Secrets had only been able to observe him on a couple of occasions. Perhaps it was just his age and being so new to being an Earthly Personification. It was rough on everyone when they first began to experience things like being pulled across the world to some strange place and then being left to find their own way home. It didn’t help that the event where the three of them, Misery, Secrets, and the boy were called to had been so…

Secrets turned away her thoughts. Even she, with all her years of experience witnessing the incredible and terrible secrets of the world, still had difficulty processing that particular experience.

Trust would know what to do for the boy. He was always good with children and seemed to know how best to handle difficult situations. If anyone could help Fear, it was Trust.

Secrets sat down on the small sofa in the living room and stared at the wall, thinking. In her letter to Trust she’d neglected to mention that Misery had been called there as well. She’d actually included him at first, but Misery saw her writing the letter and asked about it. That was how he’d found out about Trust’s upcoming visit. He’d asked her not to include him in the letter. He seemed embarrassed about it and, at the time, Secrets didn’t think much of it and rewrote that part of the letter. Misery hadn’t really done much there anyway, just stayed at the back until they could leave. He hadn’t even tried to talk to the boy.

Maybe it was just that Misery was uncomfortable around Trust and wanted to avoid giving him any reason to seek Misery out, even if it was just to ask about the boy. Misery wasn’t alone in his aversion towards Trust, although as far as Secrets was concerned, those Personifications were the ones responsible for their strained relationships. They were also the ones who Trust tended to warn new Personifications about. Some of them tried to blame it on what they were the Personification of, rather than their own actions, accusing Trust of simply being biased, but that excuse fell flat whenever Contentment and Hate were brought up. Neither of them fit such a stereotypical role and proved that each of them was what they chose to be. Contentment was a sour alcoholic whereas Hate was a florist who insisted on speaking gently, especially to his plants, and dabbled in charitable causes.

Where Contentment had become jaded after witnessing so many others experiencing a peace he always felt cheated out of, Hate had gone the other way and rejected the anger and violence he had witnessed. Both made their own choices and became what they became. Misery had the same choice to make and he’d gone his own way. He could hardly blame Truth for recognizing Misery for the sort of person that he was and then warning others about it.

She lost herself in her recollections for some time until she saw Misery setting the table. She went and joined him at the table as he brought out their bowls of soup. He’d also set out some bread that he’d toasted and buttered.

“It’s hot,” he warned after testing his own soup. “D’you want an ice cube to help cool it down?”

Without waiting for her response, Misery got up from the table to get some ice. Secrets tested a spoonful of the soup for herself, even blowing on it first, before confirming that she did indeed want an ice cube.

Misery brought back the small tray of ice cubes from the freezer and a pair of metal tongs to handle them with.

“You’re being especially thoughtful,” Secrets remarked as Misery set one of the ice cubes into her bowl.

“Don’t tell Trust,” he teased,” or he might worry I’m only doing it to manipulate you.”

“You only see him as you want to see him,” Secrets replied. “Trust is a good man.”

“And I’m not?”

Misery clearly hadn’t fully calmed down yet and Secrets didn’t like to provoke him.

“I did not say that,” she told him. “I think you both have good qualities.”

“So you agree that Trust is wrong to tell the others not to talk to me?”

This was the question she always worried he would ask her. Whenever their conversations had strayed too near to this subject, one of them had always steered it away, as though neither of them wanted to hear her answer to it.

“Well?” Misery pressed her when she didn’t respond.

“I would not be here if I did not care for you,” Secrets said with care. “We have a good relationship. In the past, I struggled to have good relationships with others. Many people who knew me were hurt by the relationship we shared and would have been better not knowing me. I wanted to know their secrets and I wanted secrets of my own to keep from others. But what I did to find secrets, and the things I kept secret from others, caused great pain and sadness. I had to learn not to hurt those I knew and before I learned that, Trust did not recommend the others to contact me.”

“You think I hurt people?” Misery demanded. “You think Trust is right?”

It hurt to see him this way, so blind to his faults and hurting because of them.

“Please do not prove my point with your anger,” Secrets said. “I am sorry you are upset with Trust for what he tells the Personifications about you, but you are the only one who can change his mind.”

“HOW?” Misery shouted, slamming both fists down on the table so hard that their glasses toppled over, spilling water all across the table.

Secrets couldn’t speak for some time. She never liked being shouted at and the few times Misery had become this upset around her had been terrifying events indeed. The whole while that she sat there, gathering her courage to speak again, Misery never took his eyes off of her. His face was beet red, his jaw clenched and the muscles around his mouth twitched and flexed sporadically as though he were fighting back more things he wanted to shout. When at last she did speak, Secrets voice was weak and halting.

“Show him,” she began, her mouth feeling terribly dry, “show him you won’t…you won’t…hurt…anyone.”

“Have I ever hit you?” Misery’s voice was cold and low. It also sounded like a threat.

“You hurt people’s emotions, not their bodies. You see where they are insecure and you become like a needle, poking to remind them over and over.”

Misery rose up from his chair, his motions stead and controlled. Secrets couldn’t do anything, too scared to move or say anything else. She couldn’t even look at him anymore and instead focused her attention on her bowl of soup. Her ice cube was almost finished melting.

“It’s getting dark,” Misery hissed through gritted teeth. “If Trust comes, don’t tell him I’m here.”

With that he walked past her, his body bumping her chair just hard enough to show it was intentional but not so hard that it would risk toppling her over. A moment later Secrets heard the door open and then slam shut.

“You are too good at what you do,” Secrets’ voice was little more than a whisper.

She could only blame herself for letting him get close to her, for accepting his offer of a place to stay while they waited for Trust. She’d even begun to think of him as a sort of adopted son. The little secrets he’d asked her to keep, all leading up to not telling Trust about him, were too good, to fascinating to let go of. She didn’t want Misery to accomplish whatever it was he was up to, and yet she felt powerless to stop him. It was like standing on a street corner, seeing a car racing forward while someone stood in the crosswalk, oblivious to the oncoming vehicle. She knew she ought to call out, say something to warn them, but that dark and intensely curious part of her mind held her back, waiting for it all to play out.

“I’m sorry, Trust,” she cried softly to herself, over and over until her eyes ran out of tears.