A/N: Next chapter will be the exhibition. I got a little ahead of myself with my last author's note...

The call came before her first period of the day had begun, and Madeleine excused herself to the bathroom when she recognized the voice on the other end of the phone as Abella's daughter, Reneé, whom she had met on several occasions over the years.

Hearing her voice made Madeleine's heart skip a beat, then settle into an excited cadence despite the guilt gnawing away at her. Madeleine hadn't seen the old woman in two years, ever since Abella had picked her up at the police station after Madeleine had been caught shoplifting. Madeleine hadn't stopped shoplifting—it had become a bit of an obsession, the cheap thrill of it—and Abella hadn't attempted to contact her after that.

Not that Madeleine had attempted to contact her either. As selfish as it was, rather than apologize, she'd been waiting futilely for Abella to contact her first, to set their relationship back to wherever it was before that argument had taken place.

However, as Abella's daughter continued talking, her voice cracking over her words, all of Madeleine's excuses suddenly seemed shallow at best and cruel at worst.

Ignoring the bell that had rung for first period to begin, she ran out of the bathroom and out of the double doors to the side of the school. Then she walked numbly, dragging herself in the direction of her house, while Reneé's voice played over and over in her ears.

Two words.

Cancer.

Funeral.

Collapsing on a park bench, the shock consuming her slowly erupted from her throat in a violent wail. How long she stayed there, shaking uncontrollably, her tear-soaked face chafing in the winter wind, she didn't know. She didn't know how long she wandered through the cold city streets, hollowly gazing at the occasional stranger who asked if she needed help, until she finally reached her house, the house that held her first memories of Abella.

Abella teaching her to bake cookies, guiding her hands through the soft dough until they formed every type of animal she could imagine.

Abella kissing her scabbed knees and applying sparkly silver band aids to them.

Abella bribing her with candies to make her finish all of her vegetables.

Abella helping her with her homework, despite her own limited education.

Abella rocking her to sleep long after Madeleine was technically too old to be rocked to sleep, her soft voice soothing away all thoughts of monsters under the bed.

'Mon petit chou, nothing will hurt you now. I'm right here. Nothing will hurt you.'

"I heard you skipped school again today," Madeleine's mother snapped as she walked in the door.

Ignoring her, Madeleine headed for the stairs leading upstairs to her bedroom, intent on sobbing under her sheets for the rest of the evening. Perhaps for the rest of her life. She wished she could disappear entirely.

"This is unacceptable, young lady. Do you hear me? Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be receiving such a good education? And what do you do? Needlessly steal things from stores? Sneak out with a new boy every night? You're failing most of your classes. Even your art tutor says you need more discipline. This is all your father's fault. If he hadn't indulged you so much when—"

Her mother stopped when she saw her tear-streaked face.

"Did something happen?"

For a moment, she looked almost worried, almost like a real mother.

"Did you know?" Madeleine asked.

"Did I know what?"

"About Abella." Madeleine wiped her face on her uniform sleeve. "Did you know she was dying?" She took a step towards her mother. "Huh? Did you? Did you know she was fucking dying?!" she shouted.

"Language, Madeleine!"

"Oh, fuck you. You knew, didn't you? That's why you gave her that huge bonus and told her to leave!"

"She asked to leave!"

"And you didn't think to tell me—"

"She didn't want you to know!"

"I don't believe you. You shut her up! You've always been jealous of her!"

"Don't be ridiculous. What could she possibly have that I—"

"Me! She had me! I was her daughter!"

"Yi Hye Jin—"

"My name is Madeleine!"

"Hye Jin is the name on your birth certificate!"

"That's not the only name that's wrong on my birth certificate!"

"Take that back."

"No. Never."

"Take it back!"

"When you bring her back from the dead, I'll take it back! That's right. She's dead. And you know what? I wish I was too. Wouldn't you just love that, Omma?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Madeleine. Why would I ever want that? Why don't you calm down, and let's sit—"

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?! You let the only person who ever cared about me suffer like hell for five years, and you didn't even tell me! Not even at the end. You just...let her die. But don't worry, Omma, because I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you regret this. And then you might be shocked at what you want."

Madeleine flinched as the maid pricked with her with the safety pin she was discreetly sticking into the fabric beneath Madeleine's armpits. Snapping at her to watch it, Madeleine wondered again at So Yi Jeong's choice of her dress for tonight's affair. Blood red, the floor length, open back sheer lace and silk confection would certainly make a statement, but she wasn't sure if it was the type of statement they should be going for given the more natural, muted tones of the exhibition.

Not to mention, it seemed a bit at odds with Yi Jeong's apparent taste for more innocent things.

But maybe he was trying to distance himself from that.

Something she could definitely relate to.

The funeral was held in a rather poor section of the city—a small, intimate gathering of family and friends Madeleine had heard stories about over the years. She came right when the service began and left right after it ended, her dark sunglasses pulled over her face so no one could see her tears and wonder at the strange Korean teenager crying silently in the back of the church.

As Madeleine gazed at her reflection in the dressing room mirror, she thought if Abella could see her now, she'd regret being her mother in any sense of the word. She had spiraled a bit too far this time, and it seemed like the people who would be paying for it the most were the people who deserved it the least.

Abella had been right. There were no monsters under the bed.

The monster was Madeleine herself.