The voice seemed to have alarmed the female, causing her to sit bolt upright in her swivel chair as she mumbled some (curse) words that entered Bianca’s ears quite bitterly. Adjusting her gigantic spectacles on the bridge of her nose, she squinted her tiny eyes at the girl who stood, bewildered by the situation. “What is it again?” asked the distraught salesgirl in a grumpy tone. Bianca found this funny, but covered her laugh in a polite cough. She had been bothering her one too many times.

“Can I have the sequel to this, please?” she asked sweetly, handing the book she had just read over the counter. It fell into the salesgirl’s hands, the thick, heavy book, and with a nod of her head, she placed it next to the desktop in front of her and began typing furiously, but in a few seconds, she presented the result to Bianca, reading the shelf and row number out loud as well as writing it on a small piece of paper. Nodding eagerly, she rushed towards said shelf, passing the entrance on her way. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on that book . . . bump. The little sheet of paper flew out of her grasp and landed at the feet of a warmly dressed female who looked confusingly beautiful. The first thing that Bianca’s wide (with shock) baby-blue optics were laid on were her . . . enormous breasts. Cheeks warming up as a deep pink colored them now, Bianca dropped down to the carpeted floor to pick up the note and rose back to her feet, very quickly, as if she had been practising this action her entire life. “I’m so sorry,” she said with her eyes cast down since she could feel her face only getting redder.

“My name is Bianca,” she said awkwardly just to break the frightening silence between them. That was always a good way to start a conversation. Azure hues flitted from one orientation to another in her range of sight as she searched for the book. Feeling the hard spines of the neatly arranged novels, a pallid hand rested on the spine of one particular book. “Found it,” said the pinkette in triumph, the first time she didn’t stutter, then immediately blushed in embarrassment of her enthusiasm. Honestly she didn’t want her new friend to find out that she was an avid reader just yet, because most people instantly thought of you as a dweeb. But of course that was just the tip of the iceberg. It was better than finding out that she was a homicidal psychopath at certain times. Bianca was grateful these phases just didn’t break out wherever. They at least happened when she could expect them, but it was still bad. Something she wished she could prevent. Picking out the book, Bianca marvelled at the cover art — which was beautifully drawn. The letters were embossed in the old English font that gave a very medieval feel to it. “I don’t think you’ve read this before . . . i-it’s one of those amazing books that aren’t talked about a lot, you know?”

Skimming over the blurb on the back cover, she could already tell it was going to be another great read. “Well, it’s as mystery and I don’t want to accidentally spoil it for you. Plus I’m not sure you dig this kind of stuff because it’s about a child. The number of people she’s killed is more than the number of years she’s been alive.” Her smile never left her face, and the perfect time for Alisa to realise that Bianca wasn’t very ‘okay’ in the head and panic would be now, unless she understood and accepted this. As Alisa leaned over to take a peek at the book, the slayer just held it flipped to a random page. A tingly sensation erupted all over her skin as she felt the most nervous she had ever been in a while. “U-um . . . I’ve never read with someone else before,” she began, and immediately thought it was a bad idea to speak. “I mean, I’m really hungry right now, we should grab some coffee, what do you think?” was the best thing she could come up with. There was a nice coffee place right next door, and it was raining — the perfect weather to get in a snug sweater and dig into a great book with a warm cup of coffee. But she wasn’t home, so she would have to make do with what was available.

“Makes you wonder what kind of a person he is.”

Another strange thought crossed her mind, but this time she didn’t turn to look at Alisa. A tense silence fell upon them once again, which Bianca couldn’t figure how to break. Maybe she should just laugh? That was probably the stupidest idea ever. Casting her trembling optics downwards as she hoped for something to break the silence, playbacks of her most dreadful night flashing in her eyes. It wasn’t something she could forget easily, and every time someone said something remotely related to it, she would begin reminiscing about it, like a recurring nightmare, but it wasn’t a nightmare; it was reality and people had seen what she could do. She didn’t want to hurt more people without reason, but something was driving her to.

A muted thud resonated through the narrow space between the shelves as the book in her hands fell to the carpeted floor. “No,” she mumbled, startled by her own hostile voice. “Just forget we ever met . . .” she spoke in a harsh tone, “. . . just keep reading.” And the award for saying all the wrong things at the wrong times goes to . . . you know who. Without further ado, the pinkette hurriedly strode out of the bookstore, remembering the scent of the girl, and her pretty face. She would go as far away from the bookstore as she possible.