Shining among Darkness

By
WingzemonX

Chapter 14
Good girl's face

From the perspective of most people, it seemed like Lily Sullivan was having a terrible day. After all, very rarely start the morning in the emergency department of a hospital could be considered a good thing, especially when you are only ten years old. However, although things had not exactly gone as she expected, the truth was that she could not complain. Once again, she had triumphed over all those who had wanted to harm her. For a moment, when the vehicle was moving without any brake to the water, she really thought that would be the end. But she managed to think fast, concentrate, and make Emily fall straight into what had perhaps been her best work. Would have been perfect if they hadn't taken Emily out of the water; or if the paramedics had failed to revive her. But whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore. It would be impossible for her "temporary mommy" to wake up again from that deep dream in which she had plunged her. And, if there was a remote possibility of that happening, it was most likely that she woke up like a walking vegetable, unable to even tie his shoes.

Again, she had won, and that was all that mattered.

She had to use all her self-control so her complacency wouldn't be visible on her face, while she was resting on that stretcher in emergencies. Her wet clothes had been removed while she slept, and was dressed in a baggy white coat with prints of... were they bears? It didn't really matter neither. As if really putting a cute print on it made everything better. The nurses treated her very well, and she smiled at them and spoke the same way, but moderately. After all, given the situation she had just been through, she couldn't behave casually and normally, right? And apparently it worked, because she could feel how they all lamented, telling each other, and themselves, how affected and traumatized that poor and helpless girl must be.

Affected and traumatized? That was not precisely the proper description Lily would use. She did resent what happened to Emily a little, indeed, since those last words she had said were real. She really hoped they could spend more time together and be a good team. But what was done was done. Emily had made her decisions, and now she had to look forward. A new family was waiting for her around the corner. A new home, and a new opportunity for... for what, exactly? What would do once she had a new playground in which to move and have fun? The possibilities were immense, but she would not rush that time. She would take her time to enjoy everything slowly, as she had done with her poor parents. Who knows? Maybe this new daddy and mommy can keep their interest for more than just ten years; that would depend a lot on them.

Being lying on that stretcher made her remember how all started. How they had taken her to the hospital after her parents tried to burn her alive. At that time, everyone also treated her with great delicacy and care, as if she was fragile as paper. In hindsight, it was funny that for a second, Margaret and Edward believed they had the slightest chance of getting this far, if not because she allowed them to. At what time would they have become aware of it? When would they have realized that everything was a trick, and their pathetic hopes were little more than a smokescreen? Poor of her father now dead, and poor of her mother who had to continue living with that weight. Lily would have to pray for her as soon as she had time; surely, that would please her.

Someone ran the blue curtain that surrounded her stretcher. It was one of the nurses, who had already seen around earlier. She was, in fact, the head nurse, named Lucy, who escorted Nancy and Vazquez to her. Both entered the area that belonged to her and stood beside her bed. Lily looked at them with a calm and somewhat sleepy look. Lucy, on her own, reran the curtain to give them some privacy.

"Hello, Lily," Nancy greeted, sitting in a chair beside the bed, and sharing a friendly smile on her pink lips. "Do you remember me?"

Lily looked at her for a second and then nodded slowly.

"You are Nancy. You work with Emily, right?"

"Yes, it is."

Lily smiled slightly. Of course, she knew who that woman was; she was who had found her new home. Lily was more than sure she was there precisely to let her know about it, and she was also excited, although, of course, she also had to hide it.

"How is Emily?" Lily asked, casting some doubt and fear in her voice.

Nancy was about to answer, but the voice of the man who accompanied her came forward from behind.

"She's fine," the officer crossed his arms, standing behind Nancy's chair. "They are treating her."

Lily looked up cautiously from Nancy's face to that of the man who had just spoken. That dark-haired man looked at her carefully, with a rather impassive expression that confused Lily a little.

"Lily, he's Detective Vazquez," Nancy commented. "He wants to ask you some questions about what happened. Do you think you can answer him?"

Lily kept staring at the officer in silence for a while longer, hoping that the intrigue he was causing was not so visible in her eyes. She nodded again with her head, although this time, there were only a couple of movements. He was just a policeman who came to ask her about the unfortunate event she had just experienced, something totally normal. There was nothing to worry about; she never worried about anything, after all. However, the girl was receiving strange feelings from that man, something she did not identify yet but made her uncomfortable. What was navigating in that sea of thoughts in his head?

"Well, Lily," said the detective, circling Nancy's chair and standing beside it, without taking his eyes off the girl on the bed. "Tell me what happened."

Lily looked down, and as her fingers moved restlessly over the sheets, she began to tell everything that happened, or, at least, her version of what happened.

"The house was set on fire, and Emily and I went out. Then the police took us to Emily's car, and... I think we were going to the station. Suddenly, and without saying anything, Emily got out of the way and accelerated. She drove looking straight ahead, without saying a word, faster and faster. I was panicking. I yelled at her to stop, I begged, but she didn't answer. I don't know what happened to Emily. The last thing I remember is that we fell into the river... and then woke up in the ambulance. I don't know what was happening to her..." Little sobs escaped from his throat. "Why did Emily do that? Why does everyone close to me end up hurt?"

"No, calm down, Lily," Nancy interjected, gently taking one of her hands. "It's not your fault."

Lily kept sobbing, and then ran her hands through her eyes, drying them. It hadn't been the best of her performances but was enough. Adults were always quite easy to manipulate with a few tears.

"Tell me one thing, Lily," she heard that Vazquez said suddenly, forcing her to turn to see him. He kept looking at her in the same way, immutable at all. "Miss Jenkins, she set the house on fire herself?"

"What? "Lily exclaimed, confused.

"Firefighters believe someone set the house on fire with gasoline. Was it Emily?"

Vazquez stared at her without even blinking, waiting for the response.

"I guess…"

"Were you asleep when it happened?" The policeman snapped, an instant that was less than a second after the previous answer.

"Yes."

"Who woke you up? How did you leave the house?"

Lily hesitated a moment.

"Emily... she woke me up."

"Before or after setting the house on fire?"

"What? I…"

Lily began to feel entangled by so many questions, one behind the other, without letting her think clearly, or going deep enough into his head and discover what he was looking for exactly. She looked at Nancy with a pleading expression, looking for some support.

"Official, calm down," Nancy wanted to intervene in her defense, but Vazquez ignored her.

"Tell me, Lily, did Emily set the house on fire, and then woke you up to get you out? Then throw her car into the river so that the two drowned? Why would she do all that?"

"I don't know," Lily replied quickly, and Vazquez was able to perceive some aggression in her voice. And for that moment, even if it was really little, he could tell that the mask of sadness and pain with which she had received them, had turned enough to see through it something else. "Maybe she had severe problems and needed help... like my parents. Who can understand what that kind of people thinks?"

Now it was Vazquez who hesitated. They both looked at each other as if they were in the middle of a glancing competition. Lily, surprisingly, held his with apparent ease, while he suddenly felt the desire to look in another direction, but resisted.

Vazquez took a deep breath through his stuffy nose and dropped his next question.

"Did you know Mike?" He said solemnly. A small spasm ran through Lily's body, but she remained calm and silent. "Detective Mike Barron. Did you meet him before?"

"He was Emily's friend," Lily replied calmly.

"Was?"

"Emily told me she passed away, that an accident happened."

"Did she tell you that?" Vazquez said, followed by a small chuckle. "Before or after burning the house?"

"Official!" Nancy exclaimed, annoyed, standing up suddenly from her chair. "Is this necessary?"

Vazquez snorted, annoyed, and only indicated with one hand basically that she shouldn't interfere, offending the social worker with that.

"Did you see Mike last night?" Robert continued, although now he seemed somewhat more aggressive. "Did you see him or talk to him?"

Lily stared at him in silence. Her gaze had become so remarkably violent that even Nancy was not able to ignore it.

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" Lily inquired. "What do you want?"

"Just answer me, Lily," Vazquez insisted, and then he leaned over her a little as if trying to subjugate her. "Did you talk or not with Detective Barron tonight?!"

"No! I didn't!" The girl shouted earnestly, now tilting her body toward him, and causing Robert to turn back instinctively. "Why are you doing this to me? I did nothing wrong!"

Her shout alerted everyone in the emergency department, and a couple of nurses soon came to reprimand them for it. Lily settled back against her pillow, still seeing Vazquez, who looked somewhat distressed. Without saying anything, he hurried out of the area that belonged to Lily's stretcher. Nancy followed him with her eyes, but she didn't go after him; she stayed with Lily a little more.

"It is okay, Lily, calm down. Everything is fine," she said gently as she took Lily's hand in her.

Lily settled on the bed but took a second look to the opening in the curtain through which the policeman left. Something was wrong... very wrong...

When Nancy left the emergency department, she met Vazquez in the hallway, a few seconds before he finished a call on his phone. She rushed forward, her shoes echoing loudly against the floor. By the time she arrived before him, he had finished his call and put his phone back in his pants pocket.

"What the hell was that?" Nancy questioned him harshly.

"She lies," the officer replied very merely in his tone.

"In which? If you didn't let her say almost nothing."

"Well, in what little she said, she lied in all that."

"How do you know that?"

Vazquez turned and moved to the side of the hall. He let out a long yawn and carved his neck with one hand. It was evident that he had been awake for several hours, even before the sun came up.

"Listen, Miss... I'm sorry, I forgot your last name."

"Stwell," Nancy murmured sharply.

"How many serial killers have you met?"

Nancy raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"I've seen two," Vazquez hurried to explain. "One as a mere spectator while testifying at his trial, and another that I had to interrogate myself. And in both cases, they gave me the same feeling that that girl gave me: that they were trying to fake emotions and reactions that they didn't really feel."

Nancy was stunned by such words that she had no idea how to interpret.

"Are you telling me to you believe the story of those two strangers told?"

Vazquez snorted, funny.

"The part of the telepathy? Of course not. The part of psychopathy and that is somehow behind all these deaths?" He made a small reflexive pause. "About that, I'm not so sure."

"Well, but you said it yourself: how could a ten-year-old girl have caused all this?"

"I don't know," he replied, shrugging. "But if she really was somehow behind Mike's death, and all those other people, I'm going to find out."

Nancy gave up; there was nothing she could say or do in that case, beyond what she had already done. After all, she was from adoptions; her job was to find homes, parents, and children who could be well with each other and start a new family. The fact that all these people were almost plotting to turn that little girl into some kind of Charles Manson seemed simply implausible. But there was nothing she could do to prevent it, not at that time, at least.

"I'll talk with my superiors and Judge Brenton about this. Someone has to give a little common sense to this whole thing."

"Do it. But in the meantime, I'll order to pass the kid to the room, and I will ask to put a policeman at her door, watching that she doesn't escape."

"Doesn't escape?" Cried Nancy, stunned. "Are you going to treat her as a criminal when we don't even know what happened yet? I would like to see on what basis you ask for that order."

"I don't need it. Among the police, we take care of ourselves, and if this girl could somehow be Mike's murderer, I'll find someone to do me a favor." He pulled out his phone again, ready to make that call. "But calm down, Miss Strewell. I promise I will put her in a comfortable room if that makes you feel better."

Nancy gave him one last look of disapproval for that last hurtful and inappropriate comment. She passed him for a side and went annoyed to see Wayne, and then to retire and return to work.

An hour passed, maybe an hour and a half. As Wayne had asked, Cody and Matilda went to the cafeteria to wait. Matilda had surprisingly reached her caffeine limit of the day. That, or perhaps her mind was so busy with so many things that she simply could no longer consider the idea of having more coffee in her system. As it was, she had chosen to simply drink water and eat some fruit to make up for his lousy breakfast. Cody, on his own, did ask for an American coffee, and he was drinking it with small sips while checking the news and his social networks on his cell phone. After a while, that seems bored him, or perhaps he had just run out of publications that could entertain him.

"It is taking a while," Cody said a little jokingly, looking curiously at the entrance to the cafeteria. "It may not be possible to let us see her after all."

Matilda sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry to get you here waiting uselessly, Cody. If you have to go back to Seattle..."

"No, don't worry," the young teacher hurried to point. "I warned that I wouldn't go to school today, so I have all day free."

"What excuse did you give for that?"

Cody smiled and shrugged.

"Stomach ache."

Matilda felt an uncontrollable desire to laugh. She tried to appease them at first, but in the end, she had to let out a loud laugh and not get stuck in her throat.

"What an example you are giving your students."

Cody also laughed, although his laugh was a little more forced.

"I…" He stammered suddenly, a little more seriously. "I'm sorry to mention Chamberlain without first consulting you. I hope I haven't bothered you…"

The smile on Matilda's lips also vanished. She looked sideways to the other side, and her fingers for her temple, as if she wanted to ease some pain.

"Eleven told you?" She questioned, with something of cold in her tone. Cody shook his head.

"Another friend of the Foundation; It's something like an open secret between us."

Matilda said nothing to it. It wasn't like she was amazed that other people in the Foundation were already aware of the matter, considering how efficient several of them were to get information.

Cody, cautious, leaned a little toward her and whispered slowly as a secret.

"Were you really there... that night?"

Matilda remained silent for a moment. She turned her head toward a window that overlooked one of the hospital's parking lots. There were too many cars, which could be interpreted as there were also too many patients.

"No," she replied abruptly, somewhat somberly, "only in the end."

Cody let out an exclamation of surprise. He sat straight in his chair and adjusted his glasses.

"That incident made many of the Foundation really nervous. For a moment, some thought they would use it as an excuse for... I don't know, maybe to catch us and study in government laboratories, like in the movies."

"That won't happen."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." He paused a little before releasing another difficult question. "Everything they said about Carrie White is true?"

Matilda shook her head flatly.

"I'm sorry, this is not something I like to talk about. Not now, please."

"Sure, of course, I'm sorry."

Both then remained in awkward silence for a few minutes. Matilda couldn't quite bother with Cody by mentioning Chamberlain that way. For the intention he had, it was more than logical to do so, being such a known case. And for sure, he had no idea how much that issue really affected her, or if it was precisely in some way involved or was just a rumor.

However, what disturbed her more was the strange ways in which that incident seemed to get involved in her routine those days. First Eleven, then Samara, and now Cody, not counting the short conversation with her mother in that she had begun by mentioning it. Would it be just a coincidence? It must be; if not, what else could it be? Any kind of signal o Warning perhaps?

Without realizing it, while she was meditating on all this, she had been biting her lower lip, getting harder and harder until it hurt a little. She silently protested, and touched her reddened lip with her fingertips, hurting a little at the slightest touch. She began to feel something in her entire body that could only be described as "a terrible feeling." It wasn't the first time she had them, but she still didn't know how much attention she could give them. Matilda was aware that there were some Shining people with the ability to see the immediate future in dreams or visions. Her feelings could hardly be at that level. But, from all the special abilities obtained from the Shine, those that fell into that category were most difficult to interpret.

Move objects, read minds, create illusions, be able to see and communicate with people miles away, force people to do something; all this to a certain extent, obeyed something tangible and visible. Even when the past was seen when touching an object or some person, Matilda could still understand it, making a relationship between events that occurred and the trace they leave behind. But how exactly could anyone have feelings or visions of the future? How could anyone see or hear something that was not yet happening? The only way she could think to explain it was that the future somehow left a trace in the present as well as the past, but did not understand how that could be true. She had studied so many different branches throughout her life. Still, Quantum Physics, String Theory, and everything involved with tried to explain the course of time, were not of them. And even if yes, she wasn't sure that any of that sciences could be applied to those like her, who perceived the world and time in a much more... unusual way.

And yet, there was still another special ability that she not only understood less than see the future, but she didn't even think it was real. But that was a different topic...

The point was, what would be the origin of that bad feeling? Did it have something to do with Carrie? With that girl named Lily? With Samara? Was it something that was going to happen, or maybe it was happening at that moment? Perhaps it really was nothing, and it was just some of those awkward feelings that ordinary people who don't shine sometimes had and that most of the time meant nothing.

In response to her silent prayer that something would distract her from all these thoughts, both suddenly noticed Mr. Wayne rushing through the cafeteria door. Matilda and Cody stood up from their chairs at almost the same time. Wayne approached their table directly, but before speaking, he looked over his shoulder as if trying to make sure there were no known ears nearby. There were none, luckily.

"Lily has already left emergencies and goes to a private room," he whispered slowly.

"Can we see her?" Asked Cody, somewhat hurriedly, to which Wayne nodded.

"Just be discreet. Vazquez will put a policeman at the door, but he is an old friend. I will try to convince him to let us get in a minute."

"Thank you very much," Matilda said, taking her bag and briefcase back.

Wayne told them to follow him, and they did so out of the cafeteria and into the hallway.

Lily's stretcher moved down the hallways to her room, being escorted by two nurses, including the nurse Lucy. All along the way, the girl had not said a word, even if the dark-haired nurse asked or said something. She looked thoughtful or maybe annoyed about something.

When they reached the room, she was not surprised to see that detective there again, the same one who had been interrogating her. But he was also accompanied by someone else: another policeman, dark skin, tall and sturdy, with a black lock beard, and almost flush hair. He wore a typical police uniform, with a blue shirt and black pants, with his shining plaque on his chest, and his nowhere discreet weapon in his waist. His hands were fastened to his belt, and he looked at her with stoic seriousness while the nurses accommodated her stretcher and other accessories. Neither policeman looked away from her at any time during the process, nor did she look at them too, but somewhat more discreetly.

Once the kid was installed, Vazquez approached, thanked the nurse with a nod of his head, and then stood on the side of the bed, with a rather arrogant posture in his pose.

"Are you comfortable, Lily?" He questioned with some irony in his tone. The girl continued without saying anything. "He is Butch, Officer Butch." He pointed at the other policeman in the room. "He'll be outside to take care of your door, okay?"

"For what purpose?" Lily released, notoriously on the defensive. Vazquez smiled as if her reaction caused him some kind of satisfaction.

"It's for your own safety, of course."

Her safety, of course. The head of the stretcher was a little raised at an angle close to forty-five degrees. So, when Lily completely stuck back and buried her head in the soft white sheath pillow, she could stare at the front wall, as if nothing else, and no one else, in that room existed.

It was evident to Vazquez that she had no interest in continuing to act as an innocent girl before him. That, or perhaps not yet decided exactly what her next action step would be. Anyway, he wouldn't take his eyes off her while he could. He would keep her in that pretty hospital room for as long as it took, like a small cell. Until he could investigate enough and determine how she was involved in the death of Mike and all the other people. Vazquez knew he would be treated as a madman, and much of his comrades would react with bewilderment and aversion to the idea of persecuting a ten-year-old girl for such horrific crimes. But if he managed to get to the truth behind all that, he didn't really care if he was accused of being as crazy as those two charlatans he had just met that morning.

"Let her rest, please," said Nurse Lucy so that everyone would leave the room. "Any changes, I will let you know."

The nurses and the two policemen went out to the hall, leaving Lily alone in the room. When they closed the door behind them, she was still staring at the wall in sepulchral silence.

Once outside, Vazquez caused him and Officer Butch to move a little apart so they could talk to each other privately.

"Stay tuned," the detective said. "No one, except the hospital staff, properly identified, could enter or leave until I indicated it. Agree?"

"Don't worry, Robert," Butch replied in a low, firm voice. "But do you really think it is necessary? She doesn't seem very dangerous."

"Don't let your guard down," Vazquez replied quite firmly in his voice. "Don't speak to her if it is not necessary. I can't prove yet if she has done something illegal, but it can be more manipulative than she seems. Open your eyes wide, okay?"

Butch nodded, although he still wasn't quite sure. He was doing that as a favor for Vazquez, and also for Mike Barron, who had also been a good friend. Although it was difficult for him to understand how a girl like that could be behind his death, he still had no reason to doubt Robert. Anyway, it would only be for a while, or so he expected.

Vazquez patted her right arm and walked down the hall, talking to Lucy, possibly giving her some final indications as well. Butch took his place standing right in front of the door, with his hands clasped in front and firm posture.

Although the door was closed, Lily could see and hear them. She could listen to that detective talking to the policeman and the nurse, giving them instructions and warnings about her. She could feel in his mind how he engineered hundreds of ways to catch her, to cheat her, to lock her up, and how he didn't care if she was a harmless girl or not.

Lily cursed silently and hit the mattress with both hands hard about three times. She couldn't really believe that would have happened. How had it failed? How had they discovered it? Or was that guy really just bluffing? It must be, there was no way he could have any real clue that she... she what? Doug hit himself with his own bathroom when she wasn't even there. Her father fitted a fork while he was locked behind four walls. That annoying policeman shot himself. Emily went crazy, burn her house, and throw herself into the river along with her.

It was absurd; there was no current law or science that could prove she had even remotely do with any of those things, much less blame her for any crime. And yet there she was, locked in that room, with a guard blocking the only exit. And all because of that stupid and presumptuous detective that maybe think himself as Sherlock Holmes behind an elusive killer.

What would she do to get rid of him? Must he lose control of his vehicle, when he suddenly saw a wolf or some other beast sitting beside him and ended up crashing against the defense of a cargo truck? Maybe he could begin to see everyone around him with faces of nightmare monsters, start firing indiscriminately, and his own companions had to riddle him. Or he could even cut his own wrists in a desperate attempt to get rid of the hundreds of worms that he began to see coming out from his skin as if they were sprouting from the earth.

There were so many options, each more palatable than the last ... But no, she couldn't do that, not yet. Kill that other cop was sure what had put her in that situation. If she hadn't done what she did to that Mike that night, everything would have been like Emily out of his mind, with nothing more suspicious than that. But what could she do? That guy was on his way to Emily's house with a shotgun, ready to shoot her in the head if she didn't do it first. In perspective, it had practically been self-defense.

Whatever it was, the truth is that she was careless. She thought that as long as she maintained her good girl's face, no one would ever even think that she could be more than that, and all those who did would end up in an asylum, medicated or dead. But apparently, that face was no longer enough. The masks were breaking apart, and she had to think quickly about what to do next. Even if that means she should show herself as she really was, and reduce that entire hospital to ashes.

Suddenly, the hustle and bustle on the other side of her door caught her attention.

Butch let out a sharp yawn, and he felt a little embarrassed about it, as he had just begun this surveillance work. Caring for someone inside a hospital must be quite dull. Those kinds of places were almost always very quiet, after all. And it was also a little girl; how much could she do to try to make fun of him? The truth is that the girl who was inside that room had several ways to make fun of him, and without even realizing it. But for better or worse, he wouldn't have a chance to see it with his own eyes.

A loud rumble and a couple of shouts to his left-handed made him get on alert. By mere reflection, the result of all those years he had spent on the streets, he brought his right hand to his weapon, ready to draw it at any moment if it was necessary. Luckily he didn't need it, although it was difficult to say if "luck" was the right way to call it. It took him a little to understand what he was seeing. It seemed as if two stretchers had collided with each other, had turned over, and now the patients, an older lady and a skinny and pale man, lay on the floor, complaining of pain with moaning groans. A group of nurses and a doctor tried to help lift them, but they all looked quite confused.

Butch unintentionally took a couple of steps in that direction, but then stopped. He should, and definitely wanted, help, but... and the girl he was caring for? The officer debated for a while about what to do. In the end, he realized that he would only move a few meters close enough for something to happen and not apprehend it. Convinced by that thought, Butch hurried to approach the scene of the crash, ready to use his big and strong arms to lift the lady, since the nurses seemed to be struggling to find the right way to do it. In addition to the fact that the woman was moaning in pain while holding her belly.

The police officer went so determined and straightforward to carry out his work that he barely noticed the black-haired girl who passed next to him, walking calmly in his opposite direction. What he could see better was the balloon with the word "get well soon" that floated above his head, but he didn't pay much attention and kept walking. A girl with a balloon gift to a patient in a hospital, what would be strange about it?

Once both patients were back on their stretchers and questioned one of the nurses about what happened, she would answer that she did not know. That somehow, the wheel lock of the lady's stretcher had been released, and it had almost flown down the hall until it hit the other patient's, as if someone had pushed it on purpose.

The room's door was opened, and the first thing Lily saw peeking out was the pastel-colored balloon. Before she could process precisely what that was, a little below the head of a person appeared, who ran her pale green eyes throughout the room, to focus on her. A wide smile was drawn on the pink lips of that person, showing even a little of his teeth, too white and straight to be true. She quickly entered the room a little later, closing the door behind, with the apparent intention of not making the slightest noise. Her movements were as expressive and over-acted, like those from a child doing mischiefs. And, in reality, that was: a girl, perhaps of the same age, but could not be sure of it just by sight. She had beautiful, slightly curly black hair, fastened with two tails at each side of her head, tied with green ribbons. Her face was very white, with lovely freckles decorating her cheekbones. She wore a green plaid dress, a denim jacket, and black tights covered all her thin legs. But the most striking accessory was undoubtedly a black choker with lace that she wore around her neck.

Lily watched her silently, confused, and intrigued. As soon as she entered the room, the stranger dropped the balloon she was carrying, and it rose to the ceiling. Then she approached the bed naturally, without removing that flirtatious smile from her lips. She took a chair for visitors and raised it, perhaps so as not to make noise when dragging it, and placed it right next to Lily. The girl climbed into the chair, kneeling on it, all this without even uttering a word. Once there, she adjusted her skirt and a pair of hairs that had moved from her almost perfect fringe. She looked at her again, smiled, and then Lily could finally hear her voice.

"Hello," the stranger said with a friendly gesture. "You must be Lilith, right?" The girl on the bed narrowed her eyes a little. "Or... do you prefer to be called Lily?"

That girl's smile became even more prominent, making her cheekbones protrude and her teeth taught more. In the beginning, Lily was only a little confused. But as soon as she heard her speak, all those doubts became absolute uncertainty. She still had no idea who that girl was. Still, something deep inside her was shouting that whoever she was... or whatever she was... wasn't even remotely what she seemed to be. She was something much more dangerous...

END OF CHAPTER 14