Diary of Ivory Black

Chapter 10: Dancing With The Devil

    Morning is silent, morning is calm, morning is beautiful. Except for when you can’t feel its silence, its calmness, its beauty, its purpose. It’s not beautiful when you can’t feel anything, to the point where the fact that it’s another day scares you.

    Another day, another breath, another hellish life. Mei sighed and got up from her bed, then proceeded to contemplate whether she should walk outside of her room or stay inside for another day. After a while of standing around idly, she decided to do the first of the two.

    The bright morning light was seeping through the nearby windows, blinding Mei in the process. But her sight quickly adjusted, and she’d notice that her father was already eating on the counter. His figure was vague to Mei, his outlines were somewhat fading with the nearby surroundings of the eggshell colored wall. And she soon had realized that she hadn’t picked up her glasses before she left her room.

    Mei took a deep sigh and slowly dragged herself to meet her father, careful to not step over anything or knock something off.

    “Mei!” Her father exclaimed before realizing that his sudden rise of voice had startled Mei, and he quickly toned it down. “You’re out of your room.” He pointed out, surprised. And despite Mei’s lack of eyesight, she could tell that he was smiling.

    “Hi, dad.” She replied, her voice still coarse from lack of water and nourishment. She ducked her head down out of embarrassment, “ I must look like a mess right now.” She thought to herself.

    “Hey, chin up kitty cat!” Her father said in a cheerful tone while using her nickname. And boy, she misses hearing him say it. If one thing’s for certain, is that Mei’s father can and will keep calling her by that nickname until he dies. Which is, hopefully, not soon.

    Though, she never thought about where he got the influence. Certainly he didn’t come up with it by himself, it wouldn’t quite suit him to be honest. Maybe it was from her mother? Who knows. 

    Mei chuckled as she think of the possibility. “Thanks, dad.” She replied sweetly.

    Mei proceeded to enjoy breakfast with her father, enjoying the little things while they last. She occasionally tuned back into her emotions, taking the time to notice any difference. It was as if she was asking her heart, “Hey, are you okay now?”

    And of course, it stayed silent. And kept on beating like it usually does. Annoying, but consistent. So Mei decided to tune in with just that, her heart beat. But once she did, she begins to realize that she hasn’t been eating the whole time. So she just cursed at herself and focused on eating, just eating.

    “And this,” Mei thought to herself, “Is what my life has and forever become.”

    A dance, or possibly a war...With herself. Her own emotions, trials, and tribulations against her, as always. And her brain occasionally giving up on her to join the other side. It felt horrible to an outsider, but it felt like hell for Mei.

    She wants to—No, she needs to get out of her own incarnation of hell. Because to be honest, she isn’t quite sure if she can keep dancing with her own emotions. Because every dance needs to end, and her limbs are already exhausted.

    “A dance with the devil.” She thought to herself as she took another bite of tasteless breakfast. It felt strange, witnessing the food you usually love, deteriorate and decay into a numbing and unrecognizable flavor.

    It is very apparent that getting better takes more than a couple of days for Mei, for this case. So in hindsight, this was going to be a long day.

    But the thing about pain is that pain teaches you so much about yourself. Getting your heart broken is a journey. It doesn’t get easier, but you unknowingly become much stronger. And even though memories and pain sneak up on you along the way, eventually, you start to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

    And that’s what Mei’s waiting for, the end of the tunnel.

    It’s early afternoon and Camilla was ecstatic. She was dancing and singing to her favorite tunes in her room as if she was actually happy. She picked up one of her dolls and pretended to dance with it as she hummed a ball song, her stepped echoed through the currently empty house.

    1...2...3...

    “Oh Jeremy, when will my golden ticket of revenge arrive?” She asked the doll as if it was a real person.

    “You mean your ticket to freedom my lady?” She spoke to herself in a low tone, mimicking a tone of a typical 1800 British man.

    “Ah yes,” she answered, her voice back to normal. “When will my golden ticket to freedom arrive, my dear Jeremy?”

    “Soon, your excellence.” She answered once again in the tone of a typical 1800 British man.

    “Oh but I can hardly wait,” She insisted as she intentionally dropped the poor porcelain doll onto the floor, cracking its face.

    “Oh yes yes yes!” She exclaimed, “I can hardly wait for this new friend of mine to arrive, isn’t that right friends?” Her voice boomed through the room, though only the dolls were there to listen. Which are indeed, the friends she’s currently referring to.

    She continued to hum some tunes as she danced around her bright blue colored room, occasionally kicking the cracked doll around. And in a matter of moments, the doll’s head was completely cracked open. Camilla stared at her work, pleased.

    Suddenly, she heard a distant echo of a doorbell from downstairs. Her face instantly lit up, and she quickly exited her room and went downstairs.

    "Coming!" She answered cheerfully, as she happily rushed downstairs.

    Sure enough, once she opened the door, there it was. The guest she's been waiting for, Violet Miller.

    "Violet!" She exclaimed with glee. As if they were two long lost friends, finally reunited.

    "Come in! Come in!" She ushered as she grabbed Violet's arm and pulled the unsuspecting brunette inside, and closed the door.

    "So, uh," Violet mumbled, finally having time to speak her mind. "Where do we do this?" She asked, her tone somewhat paranoid. The grip on her bag became even tighter until her knuckles went pale.

    Her eyes fixated on the blonde haired girl. Cautious, yet curious. She couldn’t help but feel but recognize Camilla’s face as...similar(?) to someone. No. Clearly, it’s impossible for this blonde girl to be similar to her! Well...Maybe with a darker foundation and a bronzer...Never mind.

    "In my room upstairs," Camilla answered simply, her sweet innocent smile still plastered on to her face.

    "I'll be getting some tea, you go ahead and go upstairs." She dismissed. And with that, she's off to the kitchen.

    "Okay, I'll be upstairs then," Violet replied weakly. The volume of her voice disappearing with each word that came out of her mouth.

    "This feels wrong." She thought to herself as she heads upstairs, tracing its wooden handle with her index finger. She loosened the grip on her bag, finally feeling slightly less threatened.

    "Was this really the right thing to do?" Violet thought to herself. She stopped her motion once she's reached the second floor, then glanced around the unfamiliar scenery.

    It seemed that the floor has about two rooms, one bathroom, and some sort of study room. Violet went ahead and opened the door to one of the bedrooms, approximately the guest room judging by its designs.

    It was very much unisex (as it should be), eggshell colored wall and the furniture were mainly wood. Except for the body length mirror at the corner of the room. It also appears that the room doesn't appear to have any indication of someone's belongings.

    Violet sighed and closed the door behind her, and proceeded to enter the second room. And she regretted that decision almost instantly.

    One thing she did notice though, is a portrait on the desk. She slowly approached the desk, occasionally glancing at the porcelain dolls on the shelf.

    Then suddenly, she heard a cracking sound. Like glass breaking. Or more precisely, porcelain. As Violet looked down, she noticed that she'd accidentally stepped on one of the porcelain dolls' head.

    Why was it on the floor in the first place? She has no idea. She nonchalantly swept the mess under the nearby bed. It was soft, adorned with a blue bed cover. Blue, like the rest of the room.

    She sighed and continued to walk to the desk and picked up the wooden frame of the portrait. It was a photograph of Camilla and...Another person. Violet couldn't tell who it was, however. As the person's face was scribbled out with what she could only assume was black marker.

    And it was at that moment that Violet realized, that this was a mistake.

    “There you are!” A voice boomed from the entrance of the room. It was Camilla, holding two empty glass and a jug of lemonade on a tray.

    Violet quickly put down the picture she’d discovered and pretended to have not been doing anything, acting casual in a matter of seconds. Things would’ve gone unnoticed for most people, except that Camilla doesn’t quite match the category of most people. And Violet seemed to have noticed that too. And judging by her body language, on could tell that she isn’t the one who’s used to being caught in a lie.

    The grip on her bag tightened, a natural response to what appears to be a threat to her. Her palms were sweating and her eyes were shifting vigorously. Her breath hitched and her shoulders had risen up to her ears. And as one might be able to imagine, Camilla had caught up Violet’s unintentional signal.

    But she needs to do this, as this was the last resort to her. She needs to have Camilla trust her, so she couldn’t afford to be found snooping around other her possibly private things.

    “I brought lemonade for-” Camilla’s words halted, and she proceeded to glance around the room.

    “Say,” She started, “You wouldn’t happen to see a broken doll around here would you?”. Her face twisted into a morbid fusion between rage and cheerfulness.

    Violet’s throat had suddenly gone dry, and so does her mind. How the hell is she going to explain that!? What is she just supposed to tell her that she found the doll broken and scraped it under the bed? Camilla’s never going to believe that!

    But just as Violet was about to say some generic excuse, Camilla was already scanning around the room. And after a couple of seconds, she finally noticed a shard of porcelain reflecting light from under the bed.

    She chuckled before ducking under to see the mess Violet had made the bed. And sure enough, the broken doll was lying still, broken, under the bed. Camilla then looked at Violet, who was already sweating out of worry.

    “Don’t worry about him,” Camilla dismissed, referring to the doll. “I broke him before you came here, I’ll clean it up later.”

    Violet couldn’t help but sigh in relief, Camilla giggled at her reaction. The blonde haired girl jumped on to the bed and gestured Violet to do the same. Violet complied.

    “So, did you bring it?” Camilla asked, saving the small talk and other usual pleasantries.

    Violet shifted in her seat, not wanting to explain. There are moments where the words don’t reach, and this was certainly one of those moments. Because as of now, Violet didn’t have the diary.

    “So?” The blonde haired girl asked once more.

    “No, I forgot about it,” Violet says with a shrug, hoping that Camilla would buy into her lie. Because as many people may have known, Violet is an expert liar. Though there is an important reason for this lie other than to test her new acquaintance's abilities and limits. Alibi.

    Observing from her perspective, Violet was in quite the dangerous position. And of course, she didn’t want Mei to find out about any of this, especially about what she’s done with the diary. And Camilla, as Ivory had stated, was not one to be trusted. So, she needs somewhere ensure that she’ll be in a position where she could bail or continue with this plan of hers.

    Camilla grunted and her face twisted to reveal her true self, for a few seconds before it twisted back into the sweet little girl Violet was expected to be acquainted with.

    “It’s fine,” Camilla dismissed with a cheerful voice, “You stupid Latinos always tend to forget important things, don’t worry about it.”

    “Yeah,” Violet mumbled, her voice soft and low, “Stupid Latinos, huh?” She appreciates the fact that Camilla didn’t hear that last remark she’d made. Although, it would possibly be better if she did.

    “Okay, so you don’t have the diary right now,” Camilla spoke once more, “But you do remember what’s inside it, right?”

    Violet could only nod in response, refusing to give in any other information.

    “So, how many entries are there?” The blue eyed girl asked.

    “About one hundred” Violet lied. Still refusing to lower her guard of this new acquaintance of hers to give away any real information. Besides, who knows which information was of any value to this psychopath.

    “Exactly one hundred?” Camilla clarified.

    “Well, I said, “about one hundred” didn’t I?” Violet alliterated.

    “Well that doesn’t make sense,” Camilla mused, her tone low and hushed.

    “If she was buried on 30th of June, and died on 16th of June,” She explained, “Then there have to be exactly 136 entries.”

    Camilla glanced back at Violet, who’s eyes were glued on to the floor. Her mouth still refusing to give in more information unless asked.

    “Unless our friend Ivory decided to skip a couple of days,” Camilla spoke once more, her eyes fixated on Violet’s movements to see any sign of relief. And this is where the battle of the expert liar detector against the impossible liar, finally takes place.

    “Which is unlikely.” Camilla finished, still monitoring Violet’s expression. The brunette hair refuse to budge, not even a skip of a heartbeat or a hitched breath noticeable.

    “You don’t know anything,” Violet insisted, “I doubt you’re even her friend.”

    Camilla snapped inside but decided to remain civil for the time being. But if the world allows it, Violet would’ve been turned into dust right then and there.

    “I am her friend,” Camilla hissed, her tone sharp and harsh. “I was her friend.” She clarified.

    Violet couldn’t help but find some form of enjoyment in witnessing Camilla’s facade slowly cracking and breaking away, completely oblivious to what’s truly hidden behind it. It appears that they’ll be here for quite a while. And of course, they both knew that this would turn out to be a long day no matter what the outcome was.

    And sure enough (inevitably), after a few hours of meaningless questions and answers, Camilla finally cracked.

    “Fine!” She screamed, her voice loud and deafening. Still, Violet didn’t even hitch a breath.

    “You wanna do this the hard way?” The blue eyed girl asked, her tone malicious and intimidating.

    “I expect it to be hard,” Violet remarked, her eyes meeting her counter part. And slowly but surely, a devilish smile begins to creep across her face.

    There is a reason Violet has many friends, though not for the reason she’d understand. Because to be blunt, she’s an expert actress. A pretender, a player, an actress...A liar. A skill in which the unstable female possesses, as a second nature.

    It has been quite a while since she has made use of it, due to the recent tragedy and lack of interaction between her and her many deceived friends. But her skill isn’t much of a sword as it was a bottle of wine, it improves the more you leave it be.

    And she sure as hell going to make use of it now.

    “Do you want to have a dance with the devil?” Camilla asked as she beckoned Violet with a fresh glass of lemonade.

    “I would, but sadly, the devil doesn't dance,” Violet remarked with a sly smile while putting one of her hands on her chest, as the other takes the glass and sips a bit of the cold and numbing fluid.

    It’s currently 9 pm and Anna could not sleep for the life of her. Something is bothering her, more than usual. But she couldn’t quite put her tongue on it. But nevertheless, it’s quite cumbersome. And it’s making her miserable, more miserable than usual. But at least that’s new.

    So, after a few minutes of tossing and turning in her miserable bed, Anna decided that she would get out of her miserable bed, put on her miserable bunny slippers and go outside of her miserable room to get a miserable glass of water from the miserable kitchen so it can hopefully calm her miserable mind and help her miserable body to sleep.

    So as of now, her life is quite truly...Miserable.

    But no fear of that, because right now she’s already in the miserable hallway on her way to the miserable kitchen! And she was about to continue her quest until she heard an odd sound of someone from the guest room. Well, it wasn’t odd for someone as it was odd for her sister who’s been dwelling in there for roughly two months.

    “What the hell is she doing?” Anna thought to herself as she slowly and cautiously approached the guest room. Which was very conveniently cracked open, just enough for someone to peek inside without getting caught by whoever’s dwelling inside the room.

    And inside there was Adriane, who’s sleeping very soundly. And is snoring very loudly. Very. Loudly.

    And the horrid memories of sleepless nights with her sister started flooding back into Anna’s head. She was lucky enough that she hadn’t heard it for the last few weeks, but unfortunately, the luck stops tonight. She still wonders how her sister managed to put up with her own agonizing sounds as to not wake herself up after all these years, quite the heavy sleeper she is.

    And that just gives Anna an idea. A brilliant idea called payback.

    “Say, was there any white paints left after a few days ago?” She thought to herself before smiling deviously. She left from her hiding spot, then came back with various staining food/cooking materials.

    “Couldn’t get paint, so mustard and ketchup it is!” She remarked silently, her smile stretching wider by the second. She opened the wooden door slowly, careful as to not disturb her sister.

    And once she got past the door, it’s time to redecorate.

    She started by spilling mustard and ketchup all over the walls, testing to see if her sister would be awakened by the smell of food (condiments). And then she started moving to heavier things like chopped pickles and sausages, spread all over the floor and bed.

    Anna still made sure not to venture too close to her sister as to not wake her before time, but after testing her boundaries, she has less worry of being caught. Not that being caught tomorrow would make much of a difference to her, still, better late than now.

    Now, what was she doing again? Ah yes, soy sauce and cheap wine. Anna splattered the two fluids all over her sister's clothes and towels because clothes and towels were what any sane person would use to wipe of these stains without anyone noticing their need of help.

    Anna made sure to drench every square of fabric in the closet, to be absolutely sure that her sister won’t be able to clean this mess herself. Because there is no f*****g way she’s going to let Adriane’s most recent victory last long, this was more than petty fights now. It’s war and her dignity.

    But then she noticed something, two tin boxes reflecting the nearby bed light. Anna picked them up and observed it, it appears to be one of those old tin cracker boxes. Well, except for the fact that it has a key hole instead of a top and one of it was undoubtedly locked. The other unlocked tin box had nothing in it, so that saved the mystery.

    “I’ll have this for collateral, in case I lose.” Anna thought to herself as she held on to one of the tin boxes. And proceeded to look for the key.

    If one thing’s for sure now, is that the little key wasn’t anywhere near the closet. She continued her search for the key, she’s looked inside every cabinet and corner of the room. She even looked under the bed, resulting in some chopped pickles getting stuck in her already disheveled hair.

    Anna grunted but decided to stay quiet. She’s come this far to ruin it now. Still, being calm doesn’t quite resolve her current predicament. Once again, where’s the key?

    “If I were to hide something, where would I hide it?” Anna thought to herself as she brushed off her messy hair, not paying much attention to it.

    But finally, after a couple of seconds of staring at the devil’s demented face (i.e. her sister) and hard thinking, Anna finally had a moment of clarity.

    “Oh, how dumb of me to not realize this sooner,” Anna chuckled, the low and hushed sound echoed through the room. Nothing echoed back, except the low and consistent sound of Adriane’s wrist watch.

    “The most effective place for a person to hide something,” Anna thought as she placed her hand on the collar of her sleeping sister, “Is to hide it in the person themselves.”

She thought with malice as she finally located something of a necklace, tucked safely inside her night clothing.

    The chain of the necklace was gold, and it appears to be bought very recently. It’s very rare for Adriane to buy jewelry, so she must’ve bought this for this exact occasion. But enough about the chain, the key hanging on it was far more interesting. The key itself was the pendant of the necklace, it was silver (maybe even aluminum)—Unlike the golden chain. It was small, only as long as half of a pinky finger. The key had a heart shaped bow and a bit consisting of three main ridges, one other notable feature is that it has a dull tip.

    So to simplify, the key is easily broken, copied, and rigged. For an important object, it has quite the opposite characteristics.

    But that gives Anna the idea. “Maybe it’ll work,” She thought to herself, “If I’m careful enough.”

    She glanced at Adriane’s watch, “Twelve past ten.”

    Anna chuckled as she slowly walked out of the room, remembering to take the key and the tin box and to close the door slowly on her way out.

    This was a long day indeed. And it paid off, very nicely.

    Though, tomorrow won’t be as easy as tonight, Anna was aware of that very well. Because tomorrow was going to be another fight, another war, another dance with the devil.