Tiffany left Grace Church and made her usual pilgrimage to the subway. It was a brisk evening in New York City, so she wrapped her auburn scarf tightly around her neck and head. Since Tiffany was so enraptured by her work, she had thought about skipping tonight's Holy Eucharist. But Tiffany needed inspiration, especially since Kirsty was too busy with her husband Trevor to call. It made Tiffany blush every time she thought of Trevor.
While waiting for the L train, Tiffany overheard some teenage girls talking. She always felt uncomfortable around girls that age. They always seemed to be so emboldened by their youth and beauty. Tiffany could overhear their conversations about boys and homework. It was the usual ramblings for sure. But Tiffany cringed when one of them said, casually, "I've been to hell and back." It was a clichéd saying for the general populace, as none of them had any idea what crept in the shadows. For those that have actually been to Hell, the thought was unimaginable. When her stop arrived, Tiffany hastily left the train. The onlookers were captivated by Tiffany's aquamarine eyes, and the blonde wisps of hair that escaped the scarf's trappings. But her presence was forgotten as soon as it was acknowledged.
Despite her angelic beauty, no man would ever approach Tiffany. Even if they were Tiffany's age, the men would still feel like pedophiles. The teenage girls on the subway car had a self-possession that Tiffany never gained. She was always homeschooled, and in the care of her mother. There were always whispers in her household that Tiffany was exceptional. She always had to be guarded. But there was nothing to safeguard the minds of the adults around her. Her father hung himself, and her siblings fled from the household when they were old enough. If was as if a curse was underway, and Tiffany was the root of it. So, she was cocooned in the pre-bloom of childhood. And it remained so even as she grew older.
For ten years, Tiffany has tried to erase the memory of Hell from her mind. At first, Kirsty couldn't understand why she kept the name Tiffany. Wasn't it enough that Dr. Phillip Channard robbed her of everything…her mother, her sanity, her innocence? So much so that Tiffany forgot her real name. What Kirsty didn't know was that Channard had his reasons for the christening. Ever since childhood, Tiffany would marvel at the intricately-designed lamps that would be her namesake. She especially loved the one in her mother's bedroom, and how the colors would dance against the walls and ceiling.
Tiffany entered her apartment, and turned on every single light. She felt too lonely in the dark. Besides, how could she see them glow? Lately, she has been creating her own Lament Configuration boxes. Only they are made out of papier-mâché and painted in bright colors. It didn't resemble at all the black lacquer and gold trim that the original box had. No, this one would bring happiness and safe dreams. She didn't want to remember anything. So long as she kept creating her boxes, Tiffany wouldn't remember anything. She just had to wait until Kirsty had time to call her again. Maybe when she visits again, she'll bring Trevor.