Vindicta: The Story of a Vengeful Spirit

Chapter II

Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, splash, splash, splash, splash.

Dolores stumbled down the sidewalk through the drizzle, breaking the perfect rhythm of rain falling into the puddles, her mind clouded with dread and bile coating the back of her throat, the sharp autumn winds biting at her exposed cheeks and hands. In front of her chest she clutched a flour sack, the rim folded so as to not spill the precious content. Mud caked her once-shiny leather shoes and splattered the rim of her favourite white sundress; on any other day she would be shrieking about it, but today she was just focusing on getting back home.

Dolores sprinted toward the mansion in the middle of the road in the darkness, the stars and moon beautiful, but not striking enough to calm the black waves of terror struggling against the weak frame of her delicate heart. She only stopped once to catch a ragged breath before continuing her desperate movement toward the house.

Like a hunted animal, Dolores thought; where has my dignity gone? My grace? But she had no time to think about all that because she had to get back. But she wasn't a hunted animal, for a hunted animal had more grace than a pampered, spoiled child that was tearing through the empty sidewalk at night. Her foot suddenly got caught on an uneven part of the sidewalk and she collapsed on the hard concrete ground, soaking herself in water and scraping her knee, hard. She was dazed for a moment before she regained awareness to gather the spilled items back into the flour sack and picked herself up to continue her helpless scurry.

When she reached the entrance of the mansion, she did not bother to knock twice politely as she had been taught; instead she threw herself at the door and banged on it with all her might and, when the door had opened just a tiny sliver, flung her body inside the warm, bright house.

She was vaguely aware of how her filthy body was tainting the pristine floors and rich patterned carpet with dirt and mud, but she did not at all care.

"Young mistress!" the maid that had opened the door exclaimed.

Dolores weakly passed the flour sack to that maid and murmured, "Bella, give this to my sister. If she is sleeping, then take this back to me, don't wake her up."

Bella hesitated, and for a dreadful moment, Dolores was worried that her sister's condition had worsened.

"Young mistress, would you not like to get cleaned up first?" Bella asked. "What had happened?"

"No, no, Bella, but thank you for your offer. I just tripped. I will head up in a moment, but first give my sister the content in this sack."

"Young mistress, I think it would be better if you came with me to your sister. Your mother is also there."

With that Dolores's stomach dropped to the bottom of her stomach as if it were filled with rocks. Oh, what of her dear sister. The painful constricting of her breath and the cuts on her body all seemed to be a pleasure compared to what she was feeling now.

"I understand, Bella, give me five minutes to change my clothes and I'll be with you," she replied numbly.

Bella bowed her head as Dolores removed her shoes and headed to the bathroom with fresh clothing draped over her arm. When she exited, she dragged her feet and headed left to the hallway, only to be called back by Bella who led her in the opposite direction.

"They moved her again?" Dolores asked, tears almost appearing in her eyes due to the concern.

"Her condition had gotten worse, so they had to move her to a bigger room to fit all the equipment.'

"Bigger room? Worse? But the doctor said to not move her around so much. And how does her condition get "worse"?"

"I don't know, young mistress." Bella sighed. "But they said she had trouble breathing just this morning while you were away, and they had to give her a breathing tube. But I am no doctor, just a humble maid, so I do not know exactly why they moved her, and I do not know much about her situation, either, as they prohibit anyone from entering her room."

When they reached the master bedroom at the end of the hallway, Dolores knew something horrible was going on. There was no way that they would give her this room if her situation was not dire. Bella opened the door for her and handed her the flour sack, not entering, because non-family members were prohibited from nearing Dolores's sister—except for the doctor.

Dolores's sister, Mona, was in horrible condition, with tubes sticking out of her body like porcupine quills, and Dolores felt sick just looking at her. She glumly handed the bag over to her mother, who took a peek at the medicine inside and set the bag aside.

"Your sister's condition worsened this morning," her mother said flatly, not looking at Dolores.

"I know, Mother," Dolores replied, keeping her tone quiet and respectful.

Her mother rose and limped to the door, not sparing Dolores a glance, leaving her to sit on the stool beside her sister's sickbed with her head down and tears flowing freely.

Dolores moved her stool closer to her sister, staring at Mona's peaceful face and then glanced at the sack of medicine lying on the bedside table. She sighed, and put a hand on Mona's damp forehead, sighing. She would get better, eventually.

But something was wrong.

When Dolores lifted her hand, Mona's eyes snapped open, and this would have been a relief and Dolores would have rejoiced—if not for those eyes. Instead of the pure, innocent blue eyes that Mona had, the eyes that were staring back at Dolores were bloodshot, veins seemingly about to burst. And that head of Mona's turned like a rusted machine to look directly at her sister.

Dolores screamed and stumbled back as she watched in horror as her lovely—no, correction: once-lovely—sister slowly sat up in robotic movements and reached toward her.

"MOTHER!" Dolores screamed, "BELLA!"

Dolores could hear the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs, but they weren't going fast enough. By the time the footsteps were audible, Mona was already fully out of bed and heading her way.

"BELLA! MOTHER! COME FASTER!" Dolores shrieked again, panic slowly drilling its way into her body.

And Mona was standing over her, eyes still bloodshot, a wide grin spreading over her face. That moment, the door opened, and both Bella, her mother, and two other maids came bursting in, only to find Dolores crouched in the corner, eyes wide, breath breaking, with Mona nowhere to be seen and a pile of ash on the ground.

Dolores Banquesta. Mona's last words rang in her ear.