Eighteen hours later, Linda recovered from her hang over and took in her surroundings. She was in her bed.

'Goodness! How did I get in here?' She exclaimed as she jumped of bed immediately. She looked for her pass only to find it on the table with a lamp on. She switched it off and looked around in bewilderment. As far as she remembered, she possessed no memory of bringing herself home the night before except the fact that she'd take a cab and had a few drinks at the club Delavigne. Yes, only few drinks of course. She figured out in self-mockery. Surely they must have been vodkas instead of drinks and she frowned at the idea of it. Her parents must be mocking at her actions as well. She thought as she sat down in self-pity. What about last night? Had she blacked out? She wondered. Surely there must have been no way she returned home alone and even changed to a night dress. No memory of how she'd boarded a cab home, no memory of herself removing those stilettos, and no memory of herself removing the very sparkly dress she'd wore and going to bed. She caught of her shoes next to the table. Clean and organized. No! This was not her. She figured it out as her heart pumped more rapidly. She'd never entered this far with the shoes. She did not even keep them close to her bed. At least she would rather have left them at the door. The way everything was organized worried her. Her eyes shifted gaze in more bewilderment. There it was. A glass of water on the table covered with a serviette. This was surely not her! She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. Surely if this was a hater, he or she might as well have taken her life earlier when she'd blacked. Whoever it was anyway, she admired their courage.

"So if I am to die, I would rather die lucky! With a new admirer guardian angel trying to push my life in order."

She mumbled sarcastically, kicking her way around the room.

"Is anyone in here?"

Linda called as she moved down stairs, checking each and every other room for any traces of humanity.

Bill Mayan looked at his hand book as he sadly paced around the room. He was mad at himself. Mad for spending the last eight hours of his life thinking about last night's incidents and trying to erase the memory. The memory of a self-murdering beauty. He could not get the picture off his mind. He replayed the events in his mind while his feet paced around his twenty-four million-dollar corporate reading room.

He'd found her down. 'Linda' He smiled at the memory of her name. At least he'd known as much as he could from the documents in her wallet while she had slept her life away in a drunken sod. He was mad that these events were starting to replace the fine idea he'd had of her shaking booty in a club. She'd put on quite an impressive show. Of course there had been many but none like hers. Never had he been taken up by such character. He'd moved to places, toured cities and palaces, yet all the women he'd met there had got nothing but a passive reaction from him. They had possessed this fake plasticity of being ladies, even when they did unlawful things inside their houses. Whatever was up with the fake shows! Couldn't women just be who they truly were for at least once? He amused himself by how frustrated he was. How their idea of ladyship frightened him though he had always been himself. Indifferent. Whether one was a genius or a hooker. They never impressed Bill enough. None of them was ever good enough for him. No tarts 'ladies' no gents 'male-hookers' trying to find their way around life by clinging to another hot guys. He'd hated everyone and their pretenses until images of a brunette got stuck in his system the night before. Her devilish look at the club, the long hair and attitude with which she'd danced. Not shy at all. No blushing like she'd got nothing to lose. She didn't even care who saw her or not. He recalled the touch of her hair on his skin while he'd carried her to his car. Silent and graceful. Her drunken body so calm like she'd been lying on a comfortable double bed. Her slim body.

He was taken up. But he was furious. Sad and mad and angry at her. Tonnes of anger. How could she have dragged herself with all the vodka, a woman of her caliber lying in the middle of the road? He was mad but mostly, he was mad at himself. How could his gut hurt that match for her even after the show she'd put up in the middle of the road? He wondered how she felt. Maybe embarrassed at herself. Because anyone of good sense would after they found themselves tucked in bed quietly on a beautiful new day after they'd got themselves stoned the night before. It was humiliating. He was not going to forget her and neither was he willing to forgive her.

Linda looked down at herself and thought deeply. She'd carried some confusion at first but then she'd decided to let go. She realized it was truly only foolish of her to imagine that someone out there had cared to bring her home yet not a single person had ever shown interest in her affairs. She had also thought that someone would perhaps turn up in demand for a reward or a vote of gratitude. So she'd come to a conclusion. She'd done everything herself before she'd gone to a club.

A week had elapsed since that night at the club and Linda still had no idea who the Good Samaritan had been that night. The people of Windowmill were funny. So they decided to bring her home and yet never turn up for any reason ever again. Like she was the huge monster in a cabin in the woods. But today, she would go out again even though felt sick to the bone marrow. Sick of staying in the huge house all by herself like she'd done for the past three and a half years. For a second, she did not even realize how they'd slipped away. She had wallowed away so much in self-pity that she almost lost her life as well. Plus, she would rather have company clubbing than stay here alone trying to fight her demons. She was on a mission to bring her shriveled soul back to life. Her first move was to club the heck out of Windowmill until she got her life back. The life she had led five years ago. And like that night a week ago, she was going to the club. Do the same thing, same routine. Only tonight she would make sure she doesn't drink herself silly. She had to recall every bit of tonight. Every detail about whoever came close to her.

"Yes!"

She screamed

'But no,'

Tonight she would drive the car that hard been her parents.