The next few days, after the troubles with Sophia’s mother were rather surreal. Sophia hardly spoke and never of her own volition, only to answer questions and most of the time, only to answer them in a single word, if at all. She would only sit somewhere, or lie somewhere, unmoving and lost in thought and I had to prod her to eat or to move. It was as if she had simply signed out, no longer willing to engage with the world.
At first, I tried to pull her out, but after a day of half-answers, I decided to give her a little room, that maybe it would help her to work through things on her own. I still tried to talk with her every few hours and worked in the same room she was vegetating in, hoping that there would be progress. During the nights, I held her while she slept, trying to fend off the nightmares or at least soothe her afterwards. It was not a fun situation.
Her mother’s case was solved incredibly fast, the police talked to Sophia’s father at the Church’s compound, after finding out where to go from his place of work and her father was inconsolable, at least that was what the report in the file said. Both officers made note of the fact that her father said that he had feared for Sophia and her mother, that he had seen the error of his way and was trying to correct it and that he had tried to get his family to come with him. He had a quite tight alibi, sleeping in an open barrack so fourteen other men could attest to his whereabouts at the time of the murder, ending that line of enquiry.
After two days, the lab had analysed the DNA-sample the rapist had so kindly left behind and linked it to a known perpetrator, the owner of the bar she worked at. He was picked up and grilled for a bit, before trying to make a deal, claiming that he had been angry with Mrs. Collins. beaten her and had sex with her, but that he had no knowledge about Sophia’s whereabouts or knew anything about her, something that was contra-indicated by his fingerprints all over her trashed room, and that he had no idea who had killed Mrs. Collins, something that had the potential to be true. The police was not quite buying it, his claim that he had only beaten Mrs. Collins before having consensual intercourse with her, but that he had not killed her was possible but it left the question open who had killed her. It seemed to be a bit of a coincidence that, after she was beaten by him, a murderer just happened to stumble upon her.
They grilled him a lot longer, interestingly mostly pushing the Sophia-angle as a possible kidnapping victim might be rescued, finally getting him to admit the whole sordid ordeal, that Mrs. Collins had needed money to buy booze, he had lent it to her and that the agreed upon price had been a chance at Sophia. When he wanted to collect, Sophia had knocked him over and fled, jumping from her window before vanishing into the night. Angry about losing his payment, he had taken his anger out on Mrs. Collins, but had not killed her.
Neither the police nor the prosecutor believed him and he would be held until he was tried, without a deal. Personally, I wondered if he spoke the truth but there was little I could do to find out. I could keep my eyes open if a similar case happened but for now, the police had their man and were happy to pin it all on him. It made a lot smoother package, saying it was all him, compared to a search for a second perpetrator.
In addition, I did not really care. A small, vindictive part of me felt that Sophia’s mother had gotten her just deserts, that karma had been served.
I kept working, not on any technical projects but to gently prod the police and the Omegas, slowly building a snowball that should turn into an avalanche soon.
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But that took only very little time, so a lot of my time was spent on possible plans. One of my major goals was to enter the Guild, gaining them as a protective umbrella. Sadly, there was little information to be found how to do so, at least when it came to the Powered and powerful side of the Guild. Entering their education-side was easy, in a way, even the students at my old school had been under that umbrella.
The best chance I could see at that point, was to get into the Guild University, on Accord Island, which was the main-academy and supposed to be the best institution far and wide, even if they sometimes struggled with enrolment due to their international status and enrolment practises. Or rather, due to their lack of national status. A lot of parents preferred to send their children to the best institution of their country, even if they were slightly lacking compared to the Guild University. In addition, the Guild Academy gave little to no regard to previous grades, using a standardized test to gauge the abilities of the prospective students.
If I wanted to get in there, I needed to improve my general knowledge, I had no doubt that I could pass the specialised parts, especially math and physics, but I was not so sure with other parts, I was a little lacking in the social sciences as I did not consider them to be sciences at all. So, I was studying their required curriculum and approved reading-lists to get an idea what I would have to add to my studies.
At the same time, I wondered what Sophia’s long term plans were. Some of her plans had undoubtedly been derailed by her mother’s betrayal but even without that, she had never talked about her long-term plans, not in any concrete fashion. It was something we would have to discuss at some point, hopefully. Hopefully, because the only way we could discuss it was if she came out of her zombie-state.
After a week, there was a change in Sophia. She sat in her now accustomed corner of the sofa, legs under her, her eyes staring into a infinite distance when I realised that tears were running down her face. I had never been so happy to see her cry, as absurd as it sounded, but it seemed to be progress to me. Even if she felt sadness, at least she was feeling something, anything, instead of wandering through the world as a living corpse.
I did not want to push her, or trigger something unfortunate so I sat close to her, but not too close, maybe half a meter between us. My sitting down shifted the sofa under her, which caused her to take notice of me and she hesitated for a moment, before moving close and letting me hold her. But for once, she did not simply hide her face in my chest, she cried on my shoulder and my neck. It was a slight, but to me significant, difference.
As she was crying, she was talking, words pouring from her mouth, asking maybe me, maybe the world, why her mother had done what she had done, why her mother could not simply ask, if she needed money. At first her words were rather clear, but soon they devolved into incoherent sobbing. I held her, hoping that she would not return to her zombie-state but remain alert after letting her feelings out.
After some crying, her sobbing turned angry and she started yelling, twisting out of my arms and screaming at the world. As she ranted and raved, I decided that some physical outlet might be a good idea, so I pulled her into my gym and let her have it against the heavy bag. It wasn’t quite as heavy for her, when she started punching it, it seemed more like a reflex bag, wildinly dancing as she pummeled it without rhyme, reason or mercy. Just looking at it from the side, I was quite proud of my construction, it stood up to her rage remarkably well.
It took her some time, but soon, she started to wind down, tottering a bit before sinking to the floor and within moments, she was out, snoring softly. I had to suppress a giggle at the short time it had taken her to go from raging berserker, wanting to burn the world, to lightly snoring, sleeping innocence.
Picking her up and carrying her to bed was almost second nature by now but for the first time in a week, I was feeling positive as I did so. Her emotions breaking out like that might just be the first step on her recovery, a catharsis to cleanse her soul so she could look at tomorrow without, or with less of, the burdens of today.
I doubted that all her burdens were gone, or that she had lived through the troubles with her family without scars, but time would tell.