The Compromise:
Chapter 36: Blackout Fallout
Warning: Frequent use of page breaks in this chapter. If you have any severe aversions to fighting, or people getting what is coming to them, then you may want to skip this installment. Just saying.
"I'm a mess, and, your words just give me time,
To give you a waste of time.
One of those nights,
When you leave me for no reason…
I'll give you a reason."
The Cab
"One of Those Nights"
Helga was folding her napkin into various shapes (trying to remember some of the origami she learned a few years back) when a cheery voice woke her from her stupor and distracted her from the black wire table in front of her.
"Oh hi! You're back!"
Helga looked up, barely recognizing the figure standing next to her. The lithe waitress beamed at Helga until her memory was jogged enough to identify her. "I remember you!" she said, turning in her chair to inspect the small woman. "Julie…Julia…" she asked, struggling for her name.
"Juliette." she said, smiling, good-naturedly. "It's okay, it's a common name. How've you been?" she asked, perkier than any other waitress that Helga encountered. "Can I bring you a soda?"
"No, that's okay, I'm actually…I'm waiting on someone."
Juliette suddenly stopped smiling, and leaned in toward Helga. "Are you meeting that mean guy again? Because if you are, I can bring you some cake now, before he comes. Or, I can leave you a slice inside, and when you're done, you can tell him that you have to go to the bathroom, which would be a great excuse, because, I mean, who follows people to the bathroom anyway, and then you can just go and eat it, and I promise not to tell anyone, because-"
"Juliette, it's okay. I'm not…I'm not meeting Derek." Helga said, smiling due to the excuse that she could have used when eating here with Derek, and about whom she was meeting there that day.
"His name was Derek?" she asked, scrunching her nose, and taking out her pen and pad. "That's weird. Anyway, I'll come get your order in a few minutes." she stated, before moving to another table and taking their order happily.
Helga shook her head and turned back to the street corner, looking out for Arnold, and smiling to herself. Her head turned absentmindedly to the bustling traffic and parked cars across the street, before she sighed and checked her watch again.
"I think she saw us."
"She didn't see us, you dolt. Quit being paranoid." Mike was quickly growing tired Derek's antics. His "friend" was confident when proposing to trap Helga the night before and even more so when he called him that morning to confirm what his blurry cell phone camera couldn't. Derek convinced him that Helga would easily spot his black car, so they took Mike's less conspicuous and worn down dark green car.
The interior of the vehicle fell silent when a tall male figure approached Helga from behind. She was too preoccupied with tapping her lithe fingers on the dark, iron table and checking the nearest street corner to notice. Derek sat up straight when the figure, who could be no one else but Arnold, tapped Helga's shoulder, but rounded the opposite side of her to take a seat. When Derek ate at the very same restaurant with Helga, in what he assumed to be the same exact seat, he was placed directly across from her. Arnold took his seat, and then moved it so that, while still keeping some space between them, their shoulders touched. Under the wrought-iron table, Arnold subtly took Helga's hand, and the result was a wide, genuine smile from her.
"I've seen enough. Let's go; we need to get back to your place and get ready." Derek said, angrily, putting on his seatbelt and looking through his phone for the old, familiar number. He'd have to let his other accomplice know of any recent developments, before the night was to commence.
"Whatever you say, boss…" Mike said, turning on the car, and pulling out of his spot across from the restaurant.
"I'm glad that's over…"
"What, the party, or your singing?" Arnold joked.
Helga covered her face with her hands. "Ugh. That was the worst. I can't believe I did that…and for Olga, no less. I should have told her to go jump up a rope."
"You did it because you love her," he said against a snort from Helga, "And because you secretly like being better than her at something."
"Arnold, "Helga began, in reply. "That's not true. I love being better at something than Olga." She began moving her origami half-swan around the tabletop, and looked around for Juliette again. The petite woman had a way of taking Helga's mind off of bigger things with her cheery attitude.
"So, you didn't have any fun at all last night?" Arnold asked, knowingly, giving her hand a squeeze under the table. Helga tugged hers away to cross her arms.
"I thought we agreed we weren't going to do this anymore..?" she asked.
"What?"
"This whole song and dance you and I do. I say something that alludes to the past, and you respond, and we act like everything's the same, but it's not, because we're both thinking the same thing." she stated.
"Point taken. So, do you wanna go out tonight?" he asked, straight forward.
Helga smiled, but tried to hide it. "Yes, I would. I have to check my schedule, though." she joked.
"You can't be too busy; you haven't answered your phone all morning."
Helga shrugged, looking to the table. "I think I left it at the reception hall. I might drop by before the…our…"
"Date. You and I are going on a date." Arnold said, watching a petite waitress approach the table from the side.
"Fine. Date. I'll text you once I've left the reception hall."
"Are you ready to order now?" she asked Helga before noticing Arnold. "Hi! I'm Juliette. I know here." she said, motioning to Helga. "Well…I don't know her, know her…like, I don't know her favorite color, or when she was born or anything like that, but I was her waitress a while ago, and she was with this guy, and he was really mean, and even though I got double tips that day, I don't think it's a good idea to eat with people who are in a bad mood, because I read somewhere, that when you eat, you release these special signals in your brain, and they make you happy, and if you're with people who are mean, or in a bad mood, they might mess with your signals, and-"
"Nice to meet you." Arnold said, cutting her off. He glanced at Helga and noticed that instead of a look of ire, she was wearing a grin, obviously not bothered by the overly-enthusiastic waitress.
"So, what'll it be?"
"I'll just have a root beer for now." Helga said.
"Me too."
"Okay, two root beers." Juliette said, scribbling something on her pad, and slipping it into the wide pocket of her black apron. "Can I ask a…hypothetical question?"
Arnold and Helga looked at each other briefly and nodded.
"If Helga, say…wanted to dash inside after you two were done eating, and maybe get a snack to take home, like a piece of cake, because for some reason that isn't her fault at all, but actually entirely your fault, she didn't eat last night…would you let her?" Juliette asked, rocking on her heels excitedly.
"So, you're asking if I'd let Helga get cake?" Arnold asked back. His response was an enthusiastic nod. "I don't own Helga. She can get cake if she wants it. But, if it's chocolate cake, I'd have to insist that she get a slice for me as well."
Juliette's eyes, and smile, coincidentally got wider and she hopped back into the restaurant happily to finish their orders. She paused at the door, and offered Helga none-too-discreet thumbs up, before disappearing, one that Helga returned with an awkward thumbs up of her own.
"What was that all about?" Arnold asked, garnering her attention.
"Nothing."
'Helga…pick up the phone…I know you're there. Well, if you are there, give me a call back; I need to ask you something about the dance performance. I'll be at a party tonight but just leave me a message…and answer your phone next time, okay? Bye!'
Derek curled his lip and exited out of the voicemail option on Helga's slim phone. He knew it was all a part of the plan to get Helga, but he was still shocked when Mike tossed him the device that morning, from across the messy bedroom.
"What are you doing?" Mike asked, entering the room, carrying a slice of pizza and a camera. Derek shook off a look of disdain and answered him.
"Just checking Helga's messages." he replied.
"Are you sure you're gonna be able to do this? I don't wanna go through all this work for you to punk out over some girl."
"I'm not gonna 'punk out'. And Helga is not just some girl. She was special."
"And you employed me to help you ruin her life because…? If she's so special, something tells me this plan isn't the best way to tell her that." Mike said, chuckling.
"You wouldn't get it. She gave me a reason to do this." Derek said, sifting through her text messages, and preparing the one that would make sure their plans went off without a hitch. He looked through her inbox at the last one she received from Arnold, and angrily pressed the tiny icon of a trashcan in the corner of the screen.
'Message deleted.'
Emptying the contents of the garment bag she used the night before, Helga's shoulders fell when, once again, she couldn't find her phone. She had no recollection of using it that night, or even taking it out of her bag, but it was nowhere in the house and Olga claimed that she hadn't seen it either.
Her home phone ringing across the house caught her attention, and she exited her room in search of the nearest phone. The cordless unit was in its usual place, on the stand by the door, and Helga answered the phone hurriedly, suspecting another donation hotline, or a solicitor.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Helga Pataki?" the voice on the other end asked politely.
"Yeah, that's me. What do you need?" she asked, impatiently. She'd been searching for her phone all day, and with nothing to show for it, Helga was in no mood to trifle with time.
"My name is Michael; I work at the reception hall. We found your phone last night, and I wanted to you to know that we have it."
Helga sighed, and felt a tinge of remorse for being so rude to someone who managed to help her out when she needed. "Really? That's great. Is it still there?"
"Actually, no. if someone leaves property at the hall, we have to take it with us, for liability issues. I have it at my house right now, if you'd like to come and get it."
Helga brought her thumbnail to her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. Bob and Miriam were far from the perfect parents, but two things they taught her about strangers was not to go with them, no matter how much candy they offer you, and never go into a stranger's house.
"Are you still there?" Michael, asked. "I will warn you, I'm having some friends over, so the house will be a little crowded. I'll make sure you get your phone, though." he offered.
Helga bit clean through her nail. He sounded legitimate enough. And it wasn't as though she'd be alone with him; he openly told her he was having a party. She looked over her shoulder with the sinking feeling that she was doing something wrong, but quickly came up with a plan and tore her hand from her mouth.
"I'll be there at seven."
"All systems are go." Mike said, hanging up his phone. "That was easier than I thought."
"Are you sure? She said she's coming?" Derek asked, nervousness lacing his voice. Mike rolled his eyes. He hated when Derek did that. He had to smile though; there would be no question who the mastermind behind this plan was.
"Yes, Captain Worrywart. She's coming. Did you send the text already?" he asked impatiently.
"Not yet." Derek said, fishing Helga's phone out of his pocket and quickly typing the prepared message. He typed quickly and sent the message, smiling despite the slight doubt forming in his chest.
'Sorry. Cant make it tonite. See u around'
Arnold furrowed his brow at the message, and pocketed his phone. Assuming that Helga found herself at the mercy of her sister, or parents, he thought little of the short and concise note, before arranging the remainder of his, now, empty evening.
Thinking back on the night before, Arnold felt a wave of relief wash over him. Helga was right; their 'song and dance routine' had been going on for too long, and all they had to show for it was repeated fights, hurt feelings and not enough communication. Not to mention the strain they managed to put their friends through, having to stay neutral while still trying to help, he began feeling a little guilty. Whatever was going on with he and Helga's best friends was an n issue quickly shadowed by their own self-inflicted dramatics.
Thinking on it, Arnold started to feel less and less assured that Helga was truly cancelling on him. The genuine smile she gave him before leaving the café, told him that she wasn't going to get too tied up. And Helga rarely, if ever, communicated anything via text message.
His suspicions grew steadily as the night progressed, and after trying to call her number back a few times, Arnold left his house, heading for the emptied reception hall.
Helga wiped her dry brow and gripped the steering wheel of her car before exiting and locking the door behind her. She saw (and heard coincidentally) the house where the party was being hosted from several doors away, and decided that, from the loud voices she could hear from her spot on the curb, there wouldn't be much of a problem with her entering the party alone. Cautiously, she left her belongings in the car; her only intention was to enter, retrieve her phone, and make a hasty exit.
The door to the large home was open to the street, and Helga stepped in, observing the people around her. No one seemed to follow the norm of most house parties she happened to find herself; there were a few people attempting to provide entertainment through risky and otherwise stupid stunts, a few girls wearing not nearly enough clothes to not be taken for lascivious nightwalkers, and a house that was in serious need of a new Hoover and a bottle of Febreeze. Aside from that, and the crowded conditions, Helga didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. In an instant, she realized her own trepidation, and began pushing her way through the tightly woven crowd. Shoving a particularly tall, red-headed boy away from her, Helga decided to start looking for the reception hall waiter, even though she didn't remember what exactly he looked like. Besides that, she doubted he'd be wearing the same thing as the night before, making him harder to identify.
Before she could finish her thought, an arm shot out and a large hand gripped her elbow, pulling her aside. Helga was ready to wriggle free, when she came face to face with the same face that managed to scare her in the coat closet the night before.
"Glad you could make it."
Helga stepped away, moving her arm to that his grip slacked until his arm hung by his side, She watched dejection flicker on his face for a moment, before his confidence took over again. "Do you have my phone?" she said, speaking over the volume of the room.
"Sure, it's back here." he said, walking in front of her toward a crowded hallway lined with doors. He noted the look of hesitation on her face, but knew that she'd be obliged to follow, and smiled when she did. He opened the door for her, watching as her hands slid nervously into her jean pockets as she crossed the threshold into the room. Since that afternoon, he managed to clean up enough to no longer rouse suspicion, but knew that Helga was probably eyeing the dirtied clothes and unmade bed. On the desktop was a random assortment of items, next to a large fish tank, completely devoid of fish. When he walked away from the door without closing it , like she expected, he smiled as her shoulders fell slightly. She was getting relaxed, but better yet, she was getting careless. And Derek told him this would be hard…
"Yeah, I was hoping you'd come by. I'm sure you needed to get your phone back…" he said, stepping around her to walk to the bookshelf at the far end of the school. Lifting the phone to her eye level, he held it out, his gaze wavering to the door for a split second. He was glad that this time, however, Helga didn't catch him. "look familiar?" he asked.
Helga stepped forward to take her phone, already imagining herself in her car, driving away from this house and all the people in it, but was distracted by the sound of a creaking door behind her. With her hand still held out, she turned and moved back, towards Mike, at seeing who was there, waiting for her.
"Derek?" she asked, before a sick realization flashed in her mind. One that she should have caught on to long before, and the dread that followed knowing she was too late.
Her body was not even turned toward her now ex-boyfriend when a heavy, blunt object made contact with the back of her head and she fell to the floor.
"You didn't have to hit her that hard." Derek said, walking toward Mike, but keeping his eye trained on Helga, looking for any signs of movement. She was at a weird angle, half turned, lying on her stomach with on arm under her belly and the other in front of her face.
"You're the one who told me to hit her." Mike said, placing her phone back on the bookshelf.
"I didn't tell you to hit her!"
"You said 'Knock her out.' How does Mike Tyson knock people out?" Mike said, crossing his arms. He hated when Derek got petty and stupid. It was one of the reasons, among others, why they weren't friends anymore. A minor reason, especially after Derek found out that it was Mike who Viola cheated on him with. After that, all their small and trivial personality traits only looked more and more unappealing, until, eventually, the friendship died altogether.
Even now, standing on the shores of a plan they formulated together, they did not consider themselves friends. They were allies, accomplices, and collaborators, but they were not friends.
"Still…" Derek said, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. This plan was looking more and more risky as time went on.
Mike shrugged once. "I offered to do it my way, but-"
"No." Derek said, finding his voice and dropping his hand. He didn't like 'Mike's way' of doing things sometimes. Mike was never truly against hurting others for the sake of his own pleasure or wants, and he certainly wasn't close enough to Helga to honestly care about her. Derek was no saint, either, he admitted to himself at that time. He wanted Helga to feel humiliated, of course, but he didn't want her to get hurt. He surmised that maybe, even if he was working alongside Mike, she might still be able to escape harm. Maybe.
"Fine. Help me lift her on the bed. Where's that camera of yours?"
"Another weekend, another party…gag me, please." Lila said out loud, but to no one in particular.
"What's that, babe?" The guy standing closest to her asked. She ignored him; he was clearly a few years older than him, and he guessed that he made college (and, obviously, college parties) a career as of late. Lila was, yet again, at a party. She feared becoming like the man next to her; drifting from party to party, house to house, with little other purpose in life. She thought briefly about the four colleges she applied to, and the same four she had yet to hear back from. Three of those were Medical Colleges, specializing in fields ranging from Nurse Practitioners to Radiologists. She thought about the other nursing students she worked with, all very content with being nursing students, happy to wear their pink, or red, or blue and white scrubs to work everyday, and have someone tell them when they were needed. Lila, on the other hand, didn't mind going to school for much of her young life, just so she could know when she was needed.
The last of the schools she applied to was a university across the country. It was not special to her, she didn't want to go there, and even if she did, she saw no objective coming from it, aside from another four years of partying. If she was going to quit, she decided, she'd do it having fun. Or at least pretending.
Resting her cup down, she moved away from the stereo and throngs of people down a packed hallway, looking for a bathroom (or an escape). Another reason she so hated parties was because she rarely, if ever, found anyone at them with whom she could relate. If she came with a group of friends, they'd usually scatter once they entered, coming back together only when someone was ready to leave. Most often she came with a date; some boy who was looking to walk in the room with the pretty redhead, and ditch her as soon as the Foosball table came out.
Lila thought back to her old friend Lucy, and their days of party-hopping, when they were too young to drive or know what they were getting themselves into. The last time she spoke to Lucy, she was…better. Better than usual. Surging forward, Lila pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, intent on finding the bathroom. Once she found it, the line outside the door deterred her need to go (if it existed at all) and she began wandering. Most of the doors in the hallway were open, but the one that was closed looked like a cautionary warning, telling Lila to stay away. Nevertheless, passing the crowd meant practically pressing herself against it. She winced, facing the door, and trying to squeeze past several people who ignored her polite "excuse me". With the door so close to her, she could not ignore the sounds going on inside.
"Derek?" she heard from outside, followed by a short grunt and a thud. Her eyes widened at the name itself and the voice that spoke it. In a few moments she heard hushed voices, and movement. Carefully, she tried the door knob, turning it slowly so as not to arouse any suspicion, but found it locked. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for more details.
"…be right back…" someone said, before the door opened on her and she was face to face with one of the voices. She couldn't decide whether or not she was safe. Not yet.
"Can I help you?" Mike asked the tiny redhead in front of him.
Lila blinked once, and mentally adjusted her mask. "Help me?" She asked, dramatically. "You sure can!" she said, smiling widely.
"Okay…" he said, closing the door behind him, and causing Lila to back up a little. Before the door closed completely, she tried peeking through the door, but could only see the dirtied floor and the corner of a bed, before it was shut.
Lila blinked again, and feigned offense. "Don't tell me you don't remember me! It's me! Lucy!" she said, using the name, even though it struck a chord in her heart. "From…Matthias' party back in…January! Yeah, the New Years Eve party!"
"Wouldn't that technically make it December?" he asked, smiling. Lila smiled in response, knowing she had him hooked. Very few boys were able to not enter into a conversation with her.
She giggled, even though the sound made her look a little silly and inhibited. "I hardly remember the ball dropping, let alone the month…" she said, placing a hand on his arm. Just as she was about to speak again, he cut her off, glancing down the hallway for a moment.
"Look, I'd love to stay and chat, Leslie, but I have some business to take care of."
"Business?" she asked, raising her eyebrow playfully. Even though her insides were melting.
"Yeah, helping out a…friend. Find me later, okay?" he asked, not-so-discreetly placing a hand on her thigh before walking away.
Lila sneered and shuddered, before walking in the opposite direction, and puling out her phone. Her confidence in helping Helga, whom she suspected to be behind the door, was overcome with fear that she could not, that she would fail again.
The phone in her ear rang, and at the first sound of a voice, she began speaking rapidly, hoping that there would be enough time for help to arrive.
After hanging up, Lila waded through the living room, and into the kitchen, rummaging through drawers until she found a screwdriver. Perching herself around the corner from the familiar room, watching Mike reenter, waiting for her opportunity to strike.
"Where have you been?" Derek asked, once Mike entered the room. Neither of them had the liberty to disappear for too long. There were too many people around, and it was far too likely that someone could have seen Helga enter and not see her leave. Derek knew his paranoid mind was taking over, but he could think of little else in such a state. Pocketing his point-and-shoot camera, he stepped away from the bed, and away from Helga. She wore all the clothes she wore when she entered, minus her heavy hooded-sweatshirt, and lay on the bed as if passed out and sleeping. One of her hands was placed behind her head, and the other was loosely clasping an empty beer bottle, while different bottles of varying colors and sizes were scattered around her. It wasn't the way Derek like dot take pictures, but Viola assured him that anyone who saw the photos would assume the worst, and immediately inform Helga's dance instructor, and in turn Caroline Henrietta.
"I got a little caught up." Mike said, watching Derek nervously walk around the room, glancing at Helga's limp form every now and again. He needed Derek to leave, and soon. "You gonna upload 'em now?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"No. I'll do it at home." Derek said.
"Relax, man. You came and did what you had to. And look, "he said, gesturing to Helga. "No one got hurt. No harm, no foul."
"Are you sure this was-" Derek started asking, as Mike began ushering him to the door.
"It'll be fine. Go have some fun. I'll stand watch." Mike shut the door behind Derek, and made sure to lock it as well. Removing a small plastic bag from his pocket, he advanced across the room, and reached out to move Helga's head to face him. Once again, he wondered why Derek was so concerned over this girl, who, despite being attractive, clearly wasn't paying him any mind. He surmised that Derek got too attached to things. There was Viola, a girl who convinced Derek to turn against Helga, but referred to him as "her property". She had no problems putting things in perspective. Why did Derek?
Easing her chin down, Mike revealed the bottom row of Helga's teeth and a sliver of her pink tongue. Sliding a small, round, white capsule into her cheek, he maneuvered her mouth closed, and took a seat across the room from her. Now all he had to do was wait.
Lila glanced at her watch, and moved from her hiding spot. Moving quickly, so removed the screws from the door knob, and smiled when the lock, now removed, made the door give way. Clutching the screwdriver, but hoping she wouldn't have to use it, Lila swung the door open with such force that it hit the inside wall with a loud thud.
"Leslie?" Mike asked, standing up.
Lila strode over, angered by the figure on the bed, and his mistaking even her false name. Rearing her hand back, she brought her tiny fist to the bridge of his nose with a loud crack. Immediately, Mike brought his hands to his face and wailed like a baby.
"Actually, it's Lucy."
Arnold weaved his way through the jam-packed house, wondering why Lila placed an erratic call to him, of all people, asking him to help her out at some house party, ten minutes from his own home. He hoped she didn't get herself into trouble, but was sure that if anything, it was a small matter that may have just gotten out of hand. He remembered from their brief conversation that she told him to come into the house, and find the bedroom where a lot of noise was coming from. Upon hearing a loud wail from a room just ahead, Arnold had to commend Lila on her excellent timing.
Turning into the room, however, his face paled at the site. An unknown guy was on the floor, moaning and clutching his face, and Lila was attempting to lift Helga over one of her shoulders, much like he had back in New York.
"What happened?" he asked, in a volume higher than he intended.
"I need a hand with her. I'll explain in the car." Lila said, under Helga's weight. Lila allowed him to take Helga from her temporarily, even though she wanted his hands free in case they met anyone else on the way out of the house. "We need to get her out of here. Is your house okay?" Lila asked.
"No, it's not."
For the second time that night, Derek made an unexpected and unwanted entrance.
"What did you do to her?" Arnold asked, passing Helga's weight back to Lila, who, not expecting it, tipped slightly before gaining her footing. Arnold stood so close to Derek, that the fear flickering in his eyes was evident. This, obviously, was not part of the plan.
"What are you doing here?" Derek asked back, trying to curb some of his alarm. Arnold's rage erupted and he pushed Derek away from him, sending him back into the hallway, falling onto the ugly brown carpet. A few people looked, but chalked it up to a typical party-fight, and ignored them. Derek scrambled to stand, turning his face away from Arnold momentarily. When he faced him again, rage flashed in his facial features, and a flesh colored blur came at him from the side, striking him in the eye.
Arnold reeled back, content with Derek's place on the floor, holding one hand over his eye, and swearing. Walking back in the room, Arnold easily lifted Helga onto his shoulder, his heart breaking at her stance. He attempted to carry her gingerly, but the bodies pressed against them, once they entered the hallway, made the task a difficult one. Once outside in the cooler night air, he asked Lila to open the door to the backseat of his car for him, and when she did, he tried sliding Helga in. Lila quickly rounded the other side of the car and entered, holding out her hands to receive Helga from her end. Working together, Helga was placed on the backseat and Lila stayed in the backseat with her, Helga's head in her lap.
Arnold walked around the car, and entered the front seat with haste, turning on the car. But switching off the radio as soon as it came on, and driving toward his house.
Viola waved prettily at a few friends from across the room, walking down the hallway like a runway model. Some watched in awe, most in disgust. Her confidence was sickening; she looked lie she'd just won the Lottery, the Miss America crown and the Kentucky Derby.
Once, however, she came across her ex-boyfriend laying in the hallway with a black eye and split lip, and his ex-best friend with a bloody nose, her confidence fell. Inside the room, there was no Helga, no grand master plot. Walking over to the fishbowl she began turning bright red at the object at the bottom. Derek's sleek, black point-and-shoot camera was covered in a fine later of tiny bubbles. Derek's camera, the same one that was supposed to have Helga's embarrassing photo on them. The same one Lila took from his pocket before they left, removed the camera card from, and tossed unceremoniously into the fish tank.
Viola let out a high pitched scream, derived from utter frustration, and lack of result from her plans, until she was out of breath, and left to stamp her high heeled shoes into the floor.
Passersby were sure to avoid that room for the remainder of the night. It seemed like people went in perfectly sane, and left without any semblance of rationality.
FERBRUARY!
February was the last time I updated. Feel free to hurl your rotten vegetables at me. To be honest, yes, things have been crazy, especially after Lady V's death, I kind of didn't want to write at all for a while. Then school got crazy, and it's still crazy (I'm a Law Student, now, you guys!) but I'm making time. Plus, it's summer, so even though I'm doing a lot more now, I'll try to be more regular. This was, honestly, the hardest part of the story to write, because it could have gone SO wrong (I think it did in some places, but by the end I liked it). Many emotions from here on out.
Thanks for reading!
-Pointy_O