Sarah sat on her bed, staring at the wall and coming to terms with the fact that what had happened at noon had not been a dream.

"Who was that princess stuck in a tower?" she asked herself, then stood up to open the curtains.

In the last light of setting sun, she could see him. The old man that lived across the road. He was smoking a cigar, obfuscating his face in a thick cloud of acrid smoke. She yanked the curtains shut again, then started to pace around the room. After a few minutes, she peeked through a gap in the curtains. The man was still there, but the cigar had gone out. It hung limply between his lips. He pointed his index and middle finger to his eyes, then pointed directly at the window, before finally disappearing back in his own abode.

Sarah shrugged, then froze when there was a knock on the door. A

"H...hello?"

"Sarah, honey, do you want dinner?"

"...Depends what you made."

"Your favorite."

Sarah's face briefly lit up, just a second, then she stormed out of the rom to confront the woman.

Diana took a small step back, calmly observing the furious Sarah.

"What's wrong?" she asked, wiping her pristine hands on her apron.

"How did you know?" Sarah demanded.

"That you're hungry?"

"How do you know what my favorite food is?"

"Lucky guess?"

Sarah closed her eyes, breathed in deep to calm herself, then still raised her hand to slap Diana.

Diana did not move.

"You knew it," she said, her words coming out in a snarl, "Cause you rooted around in my brain."

The hand fell, connecting with Diana's cheek. Diana remained unmoved, though the house did momentarily seem to shake.

"So I did," Diana confirmed, "And I regret that, but..."

"You regret it?" Sarah echoed angrily, interrupting whatever explanation was forthcoming, "You regret it? I'm glad you regret the one thing more violating than forcing yourself on me!"

"Sarah, dear..."

"I'm not your dear."

"Sarah! I'm sorry and it won't happen again."

"I know it won't," Sarah snapped, then retreated to her room to start collecting her stuff, haphazardly throwing it in her boxes, "Because. I. Am. Leaving."

"You can't."

"Watch me!"

Diana sighed, finally bothering to also enter the room, "Sarah, I'm sorry, but you literally can not leave. Your aunt signed a blood bond. You're stuck unless I let you go."

Sarah stopped angrily throwing stuff in boxes, then looked over her shoulder, before finally turning around and decisively folding her arms.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Where would you go?"

"Somewhere else!"

"Sleep at a bus stop? Get your organs cut out?"

"I can afford a room."

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"Yes, but who is going to let a girl lugging all her stuff around town get a room? Without taking advantage in some way that is."

"Like you're not taking advantage of me?"

Diana sighed, then shook her head, "I think I am just trying to make a crappy situation a little better for you. besides, it's not me you should be angry with, but your aunt."

Sarah considered hurling an insult at Diana as her mind raced, but she finally sighed in defeat.

"Fine. I'll stay the night."

"If you still insist on leaving in the morning, I will do my utmost to help you find a place to stay, but..."

"But?"

"But, the debt must be paid and it comes down to your aunt then.'

The silence lingered between the two women for some time, before Diana finally interrupted it, with a strangely domestic practicality.

"Do you want dinner then?"

Sarah, who was planning to go to bed fuming, felt the hunger pangs and relented.

"Fine, no use in starving I guess. ... Unless you like, substitute milk with semen."

"Only when requested," Diana said, innocently batting her eyelids, "So not, not today."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that answer."

Diana shrugged, "Suit yourself. I however have a great idea for a souf..."

"I don't want to know!"

Sarah had dreaded an awkward dinner with just her and Diana, but the woman had said she had pressing business in the cellar, which left Sarah to eat by herself.

"Might as well," Sarah mumbled, "Don't want her to see that I like what she made."

She was still stoically chewing when Sam entered the kitchen. The boy had put on a wife-beater that was obviously too big for him, and too long since its last wash.

"Samuel," Sarah greeted him after swallowing her food.

"You," Sam responded, rummaging through the fridge without another word.

"Hey, Samuel."

He sighed, as if just hearing his name from Sarah's mouth was the most tedious thing he had ever heard.

"What?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Does my answer change what happens next?"

Sarah shrugged.

Sam turned and placed a large bottle of soda down on the dining room table.

"Will this take long?"

"Not if you just work with me for a bit."

"Hrm."

"You're here of your own accord, right?"

"Sort of."

"So, you like... whatever you have going on with Diana?"

"I do."

"What is it you do anyway?" Sarah switched the subject, trying to get through Sam's armor of general hostility.

"Coding."

"Coding what?"

"Code."

"You're not one for conversation, are you?"

Sam scoffed, "I don't bother with Diana's fling of the week. No use getting to know the names unless you're sure they're not disappearing into the night next week."

"So, she's not helping you attain happiness?"

"She's done what she can. Now.."

Sarah raised a brow.

"Would you like to help me be even more happy?"

"I guess."

"Good."

Sam grabbed glass, his bottle of soda, then retreated from the kitchen.

"How's that make you happy?" Sarah asked.

"I'm ecstatic to be done with this chat. Enjoy your meal, Susan."

"Sarah."

"Whatever."

Sarah sighed, proceeding to eat and staring blankly at the fridge, suddenly spotting a drawing on the white plastic exterior. It had clearly been done by a child. A crayon work, showing a poorly drawn shop with a host of colorful flowers outside it. Next to it was a scribble of the child with her parents. The junior artist had past progressed stick figures into weird triangle shaped bodies, but had not learned dimensions yet, leaving the parents the size of the shop.

"Guess it worked out for the florist," she muttered, "Maybe I should ask her."

She placed her empty plate in the sink, then spitefully took it out and placed it upside down on the table, then returned to her room.

"A good night's sleep," she mused, "Then I will make up my mind in the morning."

As she headed towards her room, she passed the cellar door, through which she could hear the soft giggles of Diana and the soft pleased moans of another woman.

"Explains why I'm not allowed in the cellar," Sarah said, shaking her head, "Good night and have fun, Diana."