Monday

                  "I have to find her today." She mumured staring at the letter glued to her wall. "Focus Vicky. What are you missing?"

                   After tracing the letter's faint smell to the janitor, she had been bummed discovering he was a man with really bad choice of perfume. He couldn't even remember the name. There was no way Rhoda would use a cheap, no good perfume anyways.

                  She tossed her head back, blowing air repeatedly. Why hadn't she opened the letter the day she had seen it? Then she would've met Rhoda and... And what?

                   "Vicky- Victoria I'm ready! Let's go." Stephanie yelled downstairs. 

                 And what Vicky?

                What could she possibly do? If Rhoda hadn't won custody before she presumably died, what guarantee was there that she would now?

                 "Nonsense." She hissed, slapping her palms over her eyes. "One step at a time. I'll find Rhoda first. At least she's not dead. I should be happy about that first. The rest... I'll deal with the rest later."

                   "Vicky! Come on. Who are you talking to?" Stephanie inquired from beyond her locked door.

                    "It's Victoria to you." She gritted as she draped her curtains to cover the letter and stormed towards the door.

                   Stephanie's pouty face greeted her when she unlocked it. "It's been four years Vicky. I deserve this much, since you won't call me Mom."

                Wild laughter escaped in loud gasps from Vicky. "You're hilarious Steph. I can be too.  How about I start calling you Mom-"

                   Stephanie squealed. "Really!"

                   "-In like never." She fumed.

                  And like that the water works burst, opened. The thirty seven year old woman bawled her eyes out, unashamedly before her seventeen year old.

                 "I can't deal with this shit right now." Vicky hissed. "Why do you always freaking cry?! It's like... Disgusting! You're like some leaky pipe."

                   "I'm sorry." Steph blubbered. "It's just... I just... It's been four years Vicky. Please let me in. I want to be a mother. An actual mother. All this bickering, fights... I'm so tired."

                    Anger sizzled in her veins. She opened the door wide and stepped out, closer to Stephanie. Her mother stood taller in her death-to-the-feet heels.

                     "You. Gave. Me up." She grinded out slowly. " Fourteen years Stephanie. You have no right to complain or nag me. What would've happened to me if Rhoda hadn't taken me in? Huh? I'd have been cast away into some motherless babies home or maybe dead! Now I'm trying to find her and you're being selfish and annoying as always!"

                 Stephanie's sobs grew louder instead. Feeling irritated, Vicky walked past her and made to descend the stairs.

                  "Wait." Her mother's voice thickened with tears halted her. "W...What do you mean you're trying to find Rhoda?"

                 Vicky gave her a blank look in response.

                   "You're hanging on to false hopes Vicky. I told you. Rhoda is dead."

                 ... Why would I lie about my own sister's death?...

                     She closed her eyes and shook her head. That letter had been written by Rhoda. She was sure. "Stop lying."

                   A hand touched her shoulder and she pushed it away, opening her eyes to see Stephanie before her. "I know you want to believe otherwise-"

                    "You're a liar, a cheater and a selfish woman. Don't talk to me!"

                  Steph cried and kicked her heels away in tantrum. "And you're a silly little girl who keeps hanging on to dead people! Rhoda is dead. That cliff was way too high for her to have survived it!"

                  What?

                  Vicky reared her head up in shock. Her eyes wide as she stared up into Stephanie's guilt filled ones.

                "What are you saying? You... You were there?"
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                   "I got you some-" Ugo paused mid speech staring at the sea of dark skin that peeked at him. Betty sat on his bed, oblivious to his presence, struggling to fit into the dress she had worn on Saturday. Her hips wriggled as she slid it up her body with one hand. Her other hand far from her, bandaged up. He closed his eyes and turned around.

                 He had turned off the lights to save her that Saturday. He had no idea he had set her up for trouble instead. The gashes on her arm were clear enough signs. The Skies wouldn't let him go so easily.

                   "You can't wear that." He announced and heard the minute she went still.

                    "Can't you knock?!" She screeched.

                      "I don't."

                     She huffed in response and he felt the need to explain further.  "It's my house. I'm not used to knocking."

                   "So you barge into your parent's room anyhow too. Good to know."

                 Ugo bit his lip to rein in the irritation. People always assumed things about him. Why should he be bothered what she thought?

                    "I got you some clothes. And a school uniform." He bit out walking backwards.

                     "School uniform? How did you?!" She exclaimed and rushed to his front, her face filling his view. Her dress hiding the sea of skin he had seen earlier.

                     "Considering I'm the Ugo, I don't think you should be surprised." He grinned.

                 She rolled her eyes and laughed faintly. "Right. The Ugo. Will you give them to me or keep hogging them like they're your most prized possession?"

               He leaned forward, breathing over her round face. "Well they belong to her."

               Do not moon at his words. Do not. He is responsible for all this Betty.

               "Yeah yeah whatever." She scoffed. "I should go home first."

               Ugo shook his head. "You're sure? How will you explain your absence at home?"

               Betty sighed. "I'm sure no one really cares. Well maybe my mom."

                "Forget about absence. How do you plan to explain your arm?" He took hold of the wounded arm and steered her towards the bed. "Has the maid dressed it?"

Death? Pish! Of course not....
               
              "No." She pulled away. "I'll do it myself. Thank you for everything Ugo. But I think I'll go home."

You're supposed to grow closer to him.

             "No."

              "I heard you the first time Betty. I-" he paused and sighed. "I'm just glad you're okay. You still can remember who did this?"

               She shook her head trying to still her trembling nerves.

              "Okay then. I'll drop you at home. Tell me if you remember anything okay? Anything Betty."

... You will find that information Elizabeth. And you will give it to me... 

               Afraid to speak she simply nodded and bent to look for her shoes.

              How did she always find herself in tacky situations?
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