V. Guilt and Debt.

An excited Rowie, wagging his tail received Vanilla at the entrance of the residence. "Where is Carol?" She asked. Her feet hurt and thirst degraded her mental performance.

But Rowie didn't need to respond. Carol was still a petrified statue staring at the chandeliers, with an anguished expression of discomfort. She could be seen from the entrance.

"...Better do something about her," Vanilla advanced through the hallway to the living room and lobby. Despite wanting her to stay like that forever and not bother her again, she couldn't leave her like that, after all.

Uncertain, but hoping that Carol would be too tired to fight or do anything, she tried using the amethyst once again, but nothing occurred. She then tried the Emerald. A gassy, electrified green beam wrapped her body.

"Woah!" Carol's purple aura vanished and fell to her knees, panting on the floor.

Vanilla didn't say anything. She kept Avrevm Bacvlvm ready, just in case she tried something nasty. If the amethyst enchanted her, and the emerald did the contrary, weren't they opposing functions? She had to try them later.

"Vanilla..." Carol glared at her from the floor. "Have our guests already arrived?"

"...Who?"

"British doctors... I told you to expect them here around."

What was she talking about? they already visited her that night that Vanilla perished. "Don't you remember anything?" She asked.

"What? are you still going out tonight?"

"No... I'm not," Vanilla played along. "Why don't I take you to your room? I can cancel them for you if you aren't feeling alright."

"...Please do," Carol extended her hand. Vanilla felt disgusted when she gripped it and helped her stepmother get up. "What happened to your eye? What's that blood on your nose?"

"I... had an accident. Doctor Wilfred told me to cover it for a pair of days."

"...You kid always getting in trouble. Now take me upstairs. I'm exhausted."

Vanilla took her to the second floor, passing through a hallway of arched beams, stone-bricked pillars, and paintings on each wall. Carol's room was one of the three spaces with double doors at the end, with their bay windows pointing at the streets.

"Thanks, Vanilla," Carol took a deep breath. "Now leave me alone. I... I just want to sleep," She got inside and shut the door.

"Doesn't she hate you?" Rowie approached.

"Hate me for smashing her cheek and paralyzing her, no. It's like she doesn't remember anything..."

But did Carol not truly remember anything? If that was the case, then Vanilla didn't have to worry about her growing anger or planning vengeance. The woman didn't even realize she had a crust of blood on her face, and blood ruined her yellow dress.

It was the same as Vanilla, who still had blood crusts below her nose and surrounding her mouth. If the cops saw her then they would have taken her to the station.

"C'mon," Vanilla got her hands on the inner pockets of her father's coat and took out a paper bag. "I bought some oatmeal cookies." She simpered.

Rowie wagged his tail and jumped. They walked together to Vanilla's room.

She was about to let herself fall on the bed, but she spotted the book that she found next to Avrevm Bacvlvm on her desk, right next to the door. She sat at the edge of her bed and spread its pages.

"Still nothing," She advanced through its pages, with the bag of cookies between her and Rowie.

"That page," The pup tried to get a better look. "That's the thing we fought!"

Vanilla spread it. There was a drawing of a phantasmal, lanky woman of crooked teeth and popped eyeballs, with more unrecognizable characters on a square next to her.

"Can't be anything but a banshee," She said. "Perhaps this text is information about her."

"Can you read it?" Rowie tilted his head.

"No. No idea what they say," She continued surfing through the pages until she reached the last one. At the top of it, four dots in color blood were drawn violently on the crusty, yellow paper.

What they could be? She didn't remember them being there the last time she spread the book. "We'll go to the library one of these days and try to find something about this. Needless to say that it's just so odd."

She got up and turned off the light. She let her body plummet on the bed, not having any energy to think and meditate about what happened. She yanked out her eye patch and closed her eyelids. It was impossible to know when was the moment her conscience shut down.

•••

"So imprudent. So, so imprudent," A distorted voice rumbled everywhere.

Vanilla found herself in a profound, dark, and cold void where balance didn't exist. Anywhere she gazed at was a penetrating black. Howls, moans, and cries subtly whistled around. She was unable to tell if they were real or just products of her twisted imagination.

"Where are you?" She asked.

"Out, in, and neither. You almost withered again. And thanks to imprudence, my curious fool."

"...Curious fool?" An amalgam of distorted and mixed images flooded her mind. "Are you..."

"Using my instruments is not free... You still have to work."

"What do you want?" She turned around, spotting but darkness.

"There is someone you must... get rid of. Said one serves the primitive human desire. Silence. Bring silence to such."

"W-what are you talking about?" She felt as if her body started to get compressed by four walls.

"Silence... Silence... Silence..."

"H-help!" She cried. The invisible walls pushed harder. Her chest could not devour oxygen. Her sub-conscience collapsed, but it could not get any darker already.

The door knocked, and each hit against the wood made the pain on Vanilla's head stab on it. "Vanilla?" It was Carol's voice.

She didn't respond. With such a terrible migraine and her body still feeling hurt from compaction, the last thing she wanted to do was to deal with was Carol. She put her pillow above her head.

"Vanilla? Are you there?" Her stepmother insisted once again. Sigh. Carol never gave up when she wanted something.

"WHAT!?" She screamed.

Carol pushed the door open and crossed inside. "STOP talking to me like that. Do you hear me? The police are here and want to talk to you. Get up and stop making us waste our time." She abruptly left.

Vanilla sat up, rubbed her eyes, and yawned. Full of frustration, she got up as she could and reached for her closet. She took out a pink robe, and three painkiller pills Doctor Wilfred had given to her before, in order to deal with her migraines that were becoming more and more common as time passed.

Once with her eyepatch on, she descended the stairs and saw the two officers that rescued her that night. Bruce Brown, the officer of blue eyes and his companion, whose's name she didn't learn. They had coffee cups on the rustic table. Carol was crossing her legs on her husband's armchair, with that judging look that made Vanilla's enthusiasm die off.

"Good morning, Vanilla," Bruce Brown said. His companion was writing something in a small notebook.

"Mr. Bruce Brown, Officer," She waved at both. The bald officer smiled and concentrated his attention on her.

"What happened to your eye?" Bruce Brown asked, with a friendly and a little worried tone, Vanilla couldn't say if he was genuine or faking politeness.

"I... Had an accident. I'll have this for a few weeks."

"I hope you get better..." He nodded to his companion and he got his notebook ready.

"Miss Vanilla Land," The muscular officer spoke. " My name is Mark Hills. We're here because your ex-school companions, those kids that were harassing you the other day, died."

His face had a serious and stoic expression. Same as bruce's, who was grabbing his chin. "They were found inside a storehouse last night, between St. Peter and St. Theressa streets. Found in real, horrible ways."

Were they suspecting that it was Vanilla responsible for it? She felt trapped and extremely uncomfortable. "That's... that's bad to hear officer." She mumbled.

"Sorry, Mrs. Land," Bruce Brown looked at Carol. "But we need to describe what was found. Police rules."

"A man had his head missing." The bald officer continued. "His brains were scattered everywhere. Apparently, he was just some of the homeless people that roam St. Peter street."

"I didn't know him," She squeezed her lips.

But oh, she did know him. She could not help but feel some satisfaction after being remembered for the faith of such a disastrous human being. Could you even call such a thing a human being?

"We also found those two girls, the tall one and the other one that you broke her nose. Jane Shore and Rox Alarie."

"Vanilla? Why didn't you tell me?" Carol spoke. "You are only going to get me in trouble with the riffraff."

"Mrs. Land, please." The bald officer spoke. Carol relaxed and kept listening.

"One of them had most of her bones broken. Her body could not keep in form when they lifted her up. The other one burned to death, the doctors said that it could have been electricity, but nothing confirmed."

"That's... That's terrible." Vanilla said. Stupid bitches, they deserved it...

"We found another homeless man dead right there. Apparently, it was a cardiac attack, possibly from some shock, but nothing confirmed either."

Vanilla didn't remember killing him. He was lying on the floor, possibly fainted but she never harmed him with neither Avrevm Bacvlvm nor Custos Simia.

"Finally, we found that kid alive. Eric LaBlanc. He was, paralyzed? shocked?" The police officer couldn't find a better word. "Thing is that he is so mentally traumatized he can't even talk nor function properly. Our psychologists say that it must be the result of some gruesome trauma, maybe even worse than the one those who survive the war and have to witness their own getting massacred possess."

"I... I hope you find the responsible." Damn. She was a murderer and had the law right in front of her.

"Vanilla." Bruce Brown arched and got his look closer to her. He stared at her eyes. "Do you know anything? Anything that might be of use for us?"

She petrified. Officer Mark Hills broke the silence, pulling something out from his jacket.

"We found this right there." It was a transparent bag. Its interior had something white that Vanilla recognized immediately: her underwear. She forgot to take it back after that vagrant took it out from her body.

"This is obviously too small to belong to any of them," Bruce Brown spoke. "Our pals at the small lab we mounted last year have detected that it has body fluids, which means they didn't buy this new. They took it from someone."

"I have, no idea of whose is it, Officer Bruce." She looked down.

"Vanilla, these streets are dangerous. As a tip, I'd recommend you to be careful and only go outside when needed." Bruce Brown sipped from his coffee.

"Is there anything you want to add, Vanilla?" Mark asked. "Anything you knew about them?"

"No sir, I mean... I barely knew them besides our, conflicts. I never got to know them that personally."

"Alright," He got up, with his companion doing the same. "Please, keep us informed about anything strange you see."

"Vanilla, nice to see you," Bruce said, putting on back his cap. "Mrs. Land, thanks for the time and the coffee. Send my greetings to your husband."

"I will officer. Have a good day."

The two policemen advanced to the entrance and left, slowly crossing the door and then the garden. Neither Vanilla nor Carol said a word until they heard the motor of their patrol turned on.

"Vanilla," Carol spoke with an assertive voice. "Is there anything you're hiding from me?"

"N-no, not at all." 

"Fine," Carol got up and began going upstairs. "Don't get in any trouble today, I'm gonna be real busy."

"Yes, Carol," Vanilla said with disdain once her stepmother disappeared. She served herself a big cup of coffee from the jar on the table and let herself fall on the brown and golden couch. She didn't remember her head hurt.

Between her flying thoughts, the dream she had last night floated above. Silence? Silence who? And why was it so familiar? And dangit, the way the officers managed the situation made her realize something: She was a murderer.

She had already taken three lives and then another one without expecting it. What was inside her chest? Gratification for one part, but she still felt pulsing deep down a stream of bitterness and coldness, as if something was slowly dying.

She got up and began looking up for Rowie, perhaps they could go together to the library and investigate more about that being that resurrected her, and that book with unrecognizable characters. Perhaps the librarian could let her take a look at the forbidden section.