When I reach the entrance of the building, the lady approaches me quickly. Without saying a word, she gives me a big hug. My skin crawls immediately. The saliva tastes like tears that I have not yet shed. However, the heat she emanates is restorative. The soft smell of flowers in her hair relaxes me. I moisten my lips with my tongue. I hadn't realized how much I needed physical contact until this very moment. I let my instinct guide me and give her a hug back.

"Thank you, Mom," I whisper close to her ear.

Dedicating that word to her leaves me with a sweet aftertaste. After hearing me say it, she hugs me tighter. The fact that she is not my real mother is little by little ceasing to bother me. She has given me attention and affection since I opened my eyes to this strange reality. She is the only person who makes me feel loved and less adrift. While I would never forget my blood family, this lady is earning my affection. I want to trust her.

"I love you, Oli. I'm proud of you."

A wave of emotions hits me inside when I hear that phrase. Fear attacks me again and I get goosebumps. Shortly before I departed to fight the most recent battle, my mom told me the same thing, syllable by syllable. Those are the last words said by her that I treasure in my memory. How could this woman know that? Is she playing with me? Is she using a beautiful memory against me? "It's a simple coincidence. Don't be paranoid," I repeat to myself. Why do I always torture myself like this? I overthink! It is exhausting to never have peace of mind. I need to give myself a break, but I don't know how to do it.

"Annette! It's good that you're still here!" Tara trots over to where we are. "I forgot to tell Olivia to bring this to you. Thank you very much for lending it to me! You saved me!"

She then extends her arm to hand a red scarf to my caregiver. They both smile fondly at each other. I can't do anything but swallow slowly. I lower my head so that my eyes are not too open. "My mom's name is Annette too," I tell myself, stupefied.

"We have a coffee waiting for us, eh? I hope it's soon. See you!" the psychologist says before turning around and returning to the office.

As incredible as it may seem, I did not know the lady's name until today. Everyone addresses her by her last name: Duncan. And she, believing she is my mother, doesn't expect me to call her by name or, worse still, ask her what her name is. This discovery shakes my sanity again.

"Would you like to go for ice cream?" my companion asks.

I blink as if a handful of sand has gotten into my eyes. My bubble of abstraction bursts suddenly every time someone talks to me. That is becoming an annoying habit that I need to eradicate. I should stop rambling so much and focus more on what's around me. If I keep distracted thinking, I'll never learn to fit in here. I can't react strangely every time people interact with me.

"Yes, that sounds good," I reply, enthusiastically.

Luckily, I already know what ice cream is and how I should eat it. When I first tried it, I took a bite too big for my mouth. The cold went straight to my head. But the small bites don't hurt me and they taste delicious. I can't deny that the food here is quite appetizing. Ice cream, pizza and burgers top my list of favorites at the moment.

"Cool! Today is a perfect day to go for a banana split, like in the old days," she says, happily.

I try my best not to lose my smile at what she told me. The old days she refers to were probably not lived with me. I nod and make a funny face, as if I know what she's talking about.

"Let's get those bananas!" I exclaim, jumping.

I should feel like a hypocrite, but I'm not, or at least not entirely. My emotions have something genuine. Although I do not share the lady's memories, I like her company and the offer she made. This is one more step to live in the present and not in a confusing past that I still don't understand.

"I think we could move on to 'Luz's Kitchen.' I love their ice creams! Do you think it's OK?"

"Sure!"

We walk to the car while the lady tells me what the new flavors are on the menu. Even if it is a trivial topic, I try to give it my full attention. I even make comments about which ones I'd like to try first. Being a ghost in conversations is no longer going to be an option. As we move forward, I take a good look at the buildings. I also try to memorize the names on the signs. If I ever have the opportunity to walk around town alone, I want to walk safely without asking where I am every ten meters.

"Oh, I just remembered that I need to call my hairdresser to confirm my next appointment. Give me a moment," the lady says.

"Of course. Take your time," I reply.

She concentrates on the conversation and I take on the task of observing. We are near a wall covered in papers with advertisements of all kinds. I give a general look at the most striking ones. Some say funny things, others are informative. My eyes read random phrases and I try to get an idea of ​​what they mean. It's fun to create stories in my head to make sense of them.

However, my momentary amusement quickly turns into anguish. My gaze falls on the photograph of a girl whom I recognize immediately. She is wearing a white dress with violet flowers. She even carries with her the cloth doll she was clinging to tightly when she was attacked. Next to her smiling face, the word 'missing' can be read.

"They killed that little girl," I whisper with a huge lump in my throat.

I cover my hand with my mouth. The nightmare I had after absorbing her soul was terrifying. Even now I shudder when I think about what happened. I don't understand how someone could be capable of doing so much harm to another person and, even worse, to a defenseless little girl. I approach the photo and read the name quietly: Cassie. I trace the outline of her face with a finger and sigh regretfully. I know that, at this point, it is useless to do anything for the girl, but I follow my instinct. I take one of the strips that have a phone number and put it in the front pocket of my shirt.

I would like to know who was guilty of this heinous crime. He deserves to be punished by giving his life in exchange for the one he took. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing his identity. In Cassie's memory, the killer wore a grotesque mask that did not reveal his face. However, I could hear his deep, cold voice, followed by an unusually loud laugh, typical of a mentally unbalanced person. Unfortunately, knowing that is not enough to incriminate anyone. I need to have tangible proof. Claiming that I saw or heard a murderer in my dreams would sound ridiculous. Who is going to believe me?

"Do you know that girl, Oli?" The lady frowns as she places her hand on my shoulder. Her palm is so cold that not even the fabric of her sleeve hides it. Her eyes are wider than normal. "That little girl's family has been looking for her for months."

"No, I do not know who she is. But I stopped to look at the photograph carefully in case I see her or know something that could help. You never know when one might come in handy," I answer honestly.

"I understand. I think it's wonderful that you want to collaborate. Thanks to generous people like you, many rescues are successful. It was thanks to the help of many people that I was able to find you in time," she says with a broken voice.

Hearing her say that makes my throat close up even more. I purse my lips and give her a sad smile. It is very difficult for me to swallow without the anguish escaping in the form of a sob. I blink rapidly and take a deep breath. I adjust a strand that falls on my cheek. I turn my back on Annette as soon as I can. I immediately head towards the car.

Once I get in and take my seat, I focus on putting my seatbelt on. To my good fortune, this time I managed to put it on without a struggle. I congratulate myself by raising a fist. I continue to breathe slowly and deeply to calm myself. I want to project serenity. If I seem too upset by what just happened, it could lead to a misunderstanding. I have to show that I'm really improving. Otherwise, I might be stuck in this place for too long.

"Well, some delicious ice creams are waiting for us, let's not leave him stranded." The lady closes the door on her side and smiles at me. "Would you like to listen to music?"

"Yes, why not?"

"Perfect! It's been a long time since we listened to any of your super playlists. What are you craving today?"

That question makes me regret having agreed to choose the music. I've let the lady choose for me all this time. That way it's not so obvious that I'm not the Olivia she thinks I am. According to the stories of the movies, series and videos we have watched together, most people have favorite singers and songs. They know the lyrics and they know the specific dances for each rhythm. But that's not the case with me, not at all.

I still can't get used to the way music is created and listened to here. In Mánesvart, musical shows are always live performances. There are no devices to record or listen to the presentations. There are no famous artists either. Our singers are ordinary people with the same rights and duties as any other citizen. They work in traveling groups that receive a fixed payment each week. On the other hand, I have realized that many artists are considered and treated like deities around here. I still don't understand why.

"I would like to hear something soft."

"Got it!"

Annette slides her thumb across the touch screen on the dashboard and, in a matter of seconds, a song as unfamiliar as it is wonderful begins to play. On the screen, I see the lyrics that are displayed to the rhythm of the melody, so I decide to follow them. I have discovered that singing raises my spirits a lot.

"You are a Van Gogh portrait. I am a Degas dancer. Your hair curls like France and a bright, white light paints such a pretty picture. You're such a pretty picture..."

The lady's voice immediately joins mine. As we move through the streets, the cold breeze sneaks in through the half-open window of the car. My hair gets messy, but I don't care. I fill my lungs to the maximum with the fresh air and continue singing at full volume. I can feel my muscles relaxing. Genuine joy is reflected in my smile. My mood was never changeable, way less as much as it is today. But that doesn't matter to me right now. I just want to live this moment of happiness without wondering why I am happy or if I deserve it.

"You are the wind in the willows. You are all the brambly hedge..."

I love the musical instruments here! In Mánesvart, my favorite was the harfel. Here, I opt for the piano. I had never heard something so melancholic and sweet at the same time. In addition to sounding good, the instrument itself looks beautiful. I would really like to learn to play it one day. As if I have time to do that, I think. Despite the crazy idea, I can't help but smile when I imagine it. Having considered a possibility like that tells me that not everything in these new lands is bad. Maybe leading a normal life is not an impossible dream.

"We're here, Oli." Annette touches my left shoulder. "Do you want to eat at the premises or would you prefer that I bring your ice cream here?"

"I want to go with you to the place," I reply, confident.

The lady's eyes light up when she hears me. Before she tries to help me with the seat belt, I take it off, open the door and get out of the car. Just as I go to close the door, I hear her gasp in shock. She probably didn't expect me to act so confident after being hypersensitive. I don't even understand where this sudden calm comes from, but I'm not going to ruin the moment by thinking about nonsense. Once my partner also gets out of the car, I head towards the ice cream parlor.

There is a hanging sign in the shape of a little house with the name of the place and a drawing of a vegetable that I don't know. A pleasant metallic jingle greets me as I walk through the glass entrance door. I look around and nod. The place is small and cozy. The walls are painted yellow, blue, red and brown. There are several wooden tables and chairs around the counter. Curiously, in Mánesvart we do have places to eat out. They don't look anything like this, but the concept is not foreign to me. At least, I won't feel lost.

"Welcome! Come forward and take a seat wherever you like. We will take your order in a moment," a woman with rosy cheeks and a kind look says.

Annette and I chose to sit next to the yellow wall. Although we are already clear about what we are going to order, we look at other possibilities on the list which is on the table. Not even a minute passes by when a short girl approaches us to take our order. She gives us a friendly smile and walks quickly towards the kitchen. Since our food does not need to be cooked, in less than five minutes we have two bowls of banana splits in front of us.

"Enjoy!" the waitress exclaims before leaving.

Without wasting any time, I take a spoon, break off a small piece, and put it in my mouth. I barely chew it and I already start to sigh with pleasure. The combination of fruit with ice cream and nuts is sublime.

"I guess there's no need to ask if you liked it, huh?"

"It is incredible!"

The lady winks at me and I start laughing. I feel like the happy, carefree little girl I couldn't be in Mánesvart. My training to become a Gildestrale warrior began when I was still too young. The marks on my hands appeared when I was seven years old. For many other young people, that doesn't happen until they turn thirteen or fourteen. This manifestation should never be ignored, as it is a direct call from the protective goddess of the dimension. Because of this, my time for playing, having fun, or lazing around quickly ran out. But it seems that I will be able to recover a few of those sacrificed moments here.

"I need to go to the bathroom." Annette gets up from her seat. "I won't be long, okay? Wait for me here, please."

"Of course."

While I wait for the lady to return, I take a closer look at the place and the other customers. Near me, there are two young girls laughing while watching videos on a phone. It must be quite funny, since their laughter is becoming more and more frequent. I see them out of the corner of my eye and continue eating my ice cream. However, a noise that I never expected to hear again steals my peace. From one of the girls' phones, the horrifying laughter of my nightmare can be heard. Without stopping to think, I jumped up and walked over to the girls' table.

"Hello. I am sorry if I interrupt. It's just that I heard something that seemed very familiar to me in that video you were watching. I would like to check if it is what I think or not. Would you mind showing it to me, or at least telling me how to find it?"

The young woman holding the phone raises her eyebrows and looks surprised. Her lips mouth a 'wow.'

"This TikTok account was opened very recently. Almost no one follows it yet. I didn't think I'd meet another Clown from the Vault fan."

If it wasn't for Annette, I would have no idea what TikTok or any of the other social networks are. The Olivia she assumes I am had an account on all of them. And, although I have not yet learned how to use them properly, at least I have seen what they are and how they work. Why do so many people prefer to use them instead of always seeing their friends and family face to face? It does not fit in my head! But hey, I have to act like I like those things if I want this girl to help me.

"My fingers are a little clumsy and I'm not very good at using TikTok. I accidentally closed a video of it and then didn't know how to find it again."

"Don't worry. This is his account, look."

When the girl extends her arm toward me, my blood runs cold as I see the screen. Cassie's killer's clown mask appears in front of me. No! It must be a coincidence. A horrible one, but it can't be him, right? I tell myself to calm myself down. If I show how scared I am, the girl might get scared too. I don't want to upset anyone.

"Ah, I did not know it. I was only able to see a little of one of his videos."

"You probably saw this one."

The girl then touches the screen with her thumb. In seconds, I see the same man from my nightmare. As soon as he starts to speak, a chill runs down the back of my neck. It is the same deep, emotionless voice of the criminal. He recites some disturbing phrases that give me goosebumps. After finishing, he bursts into laughter as he brings a bloody plush bear closer to the screen. My knees go weak when I recognize Cassie's bear. I feel like screaming, but I swallow slowly and fake a smile.

"It's very original, right? I had never been interested in poetry until I discovered this account."

"He's a genius! Thank you very much for showing me his account. You saved me!"

I give her a thumbs up, just like I've seen my caregiver does. The girl smiles back at me, pleased. Before she can say anything else, Annette appears. It's my perfect excuse to leave.

"My mother is back. I should go now. It was nice talking to you."

"My name is Rebeca. Can I follow you on TikTok?"

"Alright. My name is Olivia. On my profile, I am listed as Livi Duncan."

"Awesome!"

The girl says goodbye by waving her hand. Her eyesight immediately returns to the screen. I take advantage of that moment to sneak away. The horror that consumes me threatens to make me cry, but I can't let it out yet. I don't want to worry the lady. I have to wait until I'm alone. And I definitely have to do something for Cassie. That cruel murderer must receive his well-deserved punishment.

*The verses that appear in this chapter were taken from the song Wind in the Willows by Captain Dipper & The Strawberry Girl