On Monday we continued with our plans. As soon as Erica went to the bathroom, a group of girls followed her from a distance and waited for her to go into one of the cubicles to throw a jar full of rotten fruit and dump water over the top. It was a risky thing to do, but as we hoped, Erica couldn't go out and hit them. The girls escaped without their identities being known.

Erica began carrying her backpack and coat everywhere, looking in all directions during classes, and avoiding the bathroom altogether as long as she could.

Without access to her things during recess or finding her vulnerable in the bathroom, our chances for assaults were reduced, but not eradicated. We still had the dressing rooms.

On Tuesday, PE day, a couple of our classmates took sneaky cameras into the dressing room and took sneaky pictures of her while she was changing. That same day we printed out several in the computer lab and posted them all over the school. When we came back from recess, Erica saw what we had done and turned red, but she couldn't do anything, there were hundreds of pictures of her in her panties.

On Wednesday we managed to get the rotting corpse of a pigeon into her backpack without her noticing. Of course, it was a different backpack than the one we had broken. At the end of the class, Erica pulled the bird out and threw it on the floor, screeching in disgust. She wiped her hand as best she could, but I noticed her more distressed than other times. It seemed to me that we were getting to her, we were breaking down the fortifications of her mind. She could barely withstand our assaults anymore. Soon she would flee in despair.

On Thursday we did something similar to taking pictures of her, but harder. We took her clothes while she showered, both her uniform and her P.E. clothes, and hid everything. When she got out of the shower, she didn't even have a towel to cover herself up. She looked everywhere for her clothes, completely naked, but no one had them, of course. I instructed some classmates to put them in a trash can and make sure no one would find them for several days.

Erica had to go back into the classroom with nothing to cover her up while we all watched. Her face was red, but she made no attempt to cover herself. On the contrary, she straightened her back and her chin up, and walked like a soldier in a parade. All the rest of us were covered from head to toe, sheltered of the low temperature, but she didn't look weak. Damn murderer, I'm sure she was very proud of herself for enduring her humiliation like that, but I'm sure inside she wanted to cry.

A teacher lent her a spare overalls and shoes, but by that time half the school had already seen every nook and cranny of her body, and thousands of pictures and videos had been taken. And she wasn't even shaved. She looked horrible.

On Friday we broke a glass bottle, put the pieces together and put them on her seat before she showed up. Just as we expected, she sat down without looking, and the twinges in her butt made her jump. I had to hold myself from laughing.

On Monday we sawed off one of the legs of her chair, only almost all the way around. Then Erica came and sat down. Her weight bent what little was left of the leg, and the chair broke. A simple trick, but a good way to signal to her that we wouldn't stop.

Tuesday we had another prank planned for P.E., but Erica showed up to class in her overalls so she didn't have to change. She didn't go to shower after class either, it wasn't like she needed to. Anyway, we managed to throw a tear gas bomb at her during recess on the trees. She didn't know who hit her, but she had to leave the place quickly and couldn't read her silly novel.

On Wednesday something unexpected happened. In the middle of class, the principal appeared. He didn't say much, just said hello and asked to speak to Erica and the teacher for a moment. Erica, confused, stood up and went to talk to both of them outside the room. I think the surprise prevented her from thinking clearly, because she left her backpack and all her things at her desk.

We were not going to miss such an opportunity. We went and searched her backpack. We ourselves didn't have anything stinky or gross that we could put in it, since we didn't expect her to leave it there, within our reach, but it wasn't a problem. We simply broke her supplies, all her pencils, her eraser, her case....

Inside her pencil case I found something peculiar: a picture. It had a small plastic frame to keep it protected, but the frame was scratched and the photo was faded from the sun. I could tell they were both old.

The picture showed a man of about forty years of age, with expressive features and marked smile wrinkles. His blue eyes shone with an extravagant light, his short blond hair was somewhat tousled by two little hands of a four or five year old girl who was about to hug him. The man was looking at the camera with joy.

I knew this man, he was Lucifer Sanz, Erica's father. The small hands around him must have belonged to the same monstrosity we were trying to get rid of. I wondered if the person who had taken the picture was the mother. But it could have been anyone, and it wasn't important at the time. What mattered was that Erica was carrying a photo of her dad inside her pencil case, and judging by the number of scratches and the faded photo, she had been carrying it there for a long time. Erica cherished that photo.

—Pekos— I said, holding out the photo— open it, please.

The big guy tried to force it open with his fingers, then bit it, but to no avail. It was closed by a small screw.

Luckily for us, Troveto had a screwdriver handy. He took the frame, unscrewed it, opened it and took out the picture.

—What do you want to do with it?— he asked, handing it back to me.

I took the photo, barely seven by five centimeters, and tore it into several pieces. I made sure that all the pieces landed on Erica's desk, among her broken tools.

—That's it, let's go— I ordered.

—But we can break her backpack again— said Pekos.

—There's no time, let's go!

We quickly returned to our posts. A few seconds later, the door opened and the teacher and Erica appeared. I assumed that the director had gone to his office. Erica returned to her desk, and halfway there she realized what had happened.

—What...!— she exclaimed.

She strode over to her post and took a closer look. Her face turned from surprise to terror as she noticed what we had broken.

—What happened now?— the professor pleaded.

I expected Erica to look at us with a murderous look on her face or to return to her post in anger, but she just stood there, hunched over the table, examining the remains of her broken things. She picked up a few pieces of her dad's picture, pouting. Her eyes turned red and tears began to well up. I hadn't expected that, we had finally made her cry.

The teacher approached.

—Can't you ignore it, Miss Sanz? We are in class.

But Erica didn't answer, instead she ran for the door and bolted out. The teacher stood where he was, transfixed.

I stood up and headed for the door at a brisk pace.

—What are you doing, Miss Kroam?— the professor asked.

—It is imperative that I deliver a message, Professor. I don't care if you don't give me permission. Everyone else, stay here, I must do this on my own.

I didn't know what their reactions were, because I left. I had to deliver my message, that moment was crucial.

I moved forward at a fast pace. I caught a glimpse of a blonde hair going into the bathroom. I hurried after her, got in, and found her inside. Erica had started crying in a corner. She was holding her hand against the wall, in the middle of a hole in the tiles. It didn't take a genius to figure out that it was she herself who had hit that spot and broken the wall.

—Are you running away?— I asked.

She fell silent for a moment to look at me. Her face went from self pity to rage.

—What do you want?— she pleaded.

At that point, I was surprised that she would ask such a silly question.

—We won't stop until you get out of here! I don't care where you go, just get out!

She looked at me long and hard. Then she went to one of the sinks to wash her face. She was still sobbing.

—That picture was important to me— she said.

—That's why we tore it up— I assured her.

—Why do you have to do this? I thought we were friends!

I was so full of anger that I stomped my foot. It hurt as if it'd been hammered, but I did my best to hide it.

—How could I be friends with a murderous whore like you?— I shouted— YOU KILLED OCKO!

—It was an accident.

—It was YOUR FAULT! DON'T MAKE EXCUSES! —I yelled— When will the next murder be?! Huh?! Who will be the next victim?! Huh?! We just want to live! Just go away and everything will be all right!

She pursed her lips, still trying to hold back tears, but shook her head.

—No, no, I can't!— she said— my dad...my dad... I want him to be proud of me. I want to finish the school year and graduate. For a long time I haven't been able to. But this is the last one. I have to do it!

—What?! I can't believe my ears! What are you talking about?! Nobody cares if you finish a year or not!

—My dad does! —she yelled— He tells me it's okay, that it doesn't matter, but he does! So please, leave me alone! I swear I won't hurt anyone else! We don't even have to talk again, just let me attend classes and everything will be fine!

—No! Nothing will be okay! Not while you're around!

Erica began to cry again. She wiped the tears from her face like the filthy pig she was.

—Please, Raquel! I swear I won't hurt anyone else! Even if they hit me, even if they say things to me! Just stop, let me graduate!

I took a step back. I shook my head, slowly at first, then energetically.

—No — I said at last — no, no, no. My compassion ended the day you killed Ocko. As long as you stay in this school you'll be an outcast. Go away, the sooner the better, or stay and suffer in this nightmare.

With that said, I turned and walked away. Erica did not follow me.

All this to make her father proud, for Father, was that why she had killed two of her classmates? Was that why she was endangering us all? That Erica was not only a monster, she was a swine, a most selfish spawn.

At least my message had been made clear. Erica would turn the matter over in her head for a while. Hopefully, she would end up choosing the most peaceful and beneficial option for everyone.