Chapter 1: It all begins with a toast

(October 17th, 1998)

Dear diary, it has been over a year, since I decided to write on you. Honestly, this feels like you can actually help me, right now. The last time I wrote was over two months ago. I have been a little busy with Ed, to be quite honest… And it is exhaustingly hard for me to continue going on with him in a completely foreign country no less! Luckily, this is my last day in here and then I can go back home and relax… for a day.

Currently, I am sitting on a couch while Ed is passed out on the floor (not the first time). But I would at least expect him to be awake to get ready for his childhood friend's (me) departure! But no! He is asleep, passed out, in a coma on the floor with three bottles all around him! Ugh! It smells horrible in here! Well, can't say that I am any better, for my clothes are covered in this horrible stench. I want to take a bath, but for some unknown reason I wanted to spill all of my emotions on you first, dear diary. Feel privileged.

I miss mother and Michael. I have sent them messages during the time of my whole stay… But I am not going to be crying over for them this time. I already wrote two months ago over three pages purely about them and don't feel like doing the same now. I have made my point.

Back to the idiot-of-a-friend on the floor. I am resisting an urge to smack and shake him awake, because we have to get moving in less than two hours. True, I have packet my things and am ready to drive myself to the airport, but that would mean nobody would drive the car back here and Edmund would be left without a vehicle… Truth to be told, that may not be such a bad idea. I am the one who has been driving it almost constantly these past months while he falls asleep on the passenger seat! The nerve!

Well, he may be an idiot while drunk, but he is also a good friend in the end… The cheesy part is from the alcohol, not me. It is still in my system. Do they allow me into the plane like this, though? Oh, well. I will take a bath with a heavy smelling shampoo.

Ed has done more than enough for me. I feel guilty from what I have done and how depended I am of him. I am pathetic to rely on means like these to get some cash into my pockets, but isn't that only natural?

I just… need this.

Regret is eating me alive, though. I never wanted my life to end up like this. Even now, tears are stinging my eyes.

Anyway, I am going to spill the beans and get this over with. Maybe it will relief some of my stress before the flight back to Britain.

The day has been a long one and it has lasted over a long night…

The air is freezing, numbing to the bone. The men standing at guard near the modest gate of an old building change their turn with other of their comrades. Few speak for a minute, letting out white puffs of air out of their mouths, before getting back to their posts. The night falls into another deafening silence and the cold breeze continue passing by. This must be one of the coldest weather during this autumn, and it isn't even winter yet. During the day, the sun had still been shining warmly, though.

My heartbeat has been rising steadily until now. I can feel how my sweaty hands are almost sliding off from the wheel and I bite down on my lip for the hundredth time. Things aren't moving forward according to the schedule.

It is way past one in the morning. To be precise, fifteen minutes past one. And that is worrisome, because Edmund is late.

If he has been spotted, they will start to search the area. Swallowing thickly, I start to carefully play with the car's keys. Five minutes left, Ed. Hurry up!

This isn't the first time I am doing this… but it is the first time that my partner is this late. It is truly scary to simply sit inside this car, hiding many feet away from our target building and hoping – praying that I won't be spotted.

No matter how many times I am dragged into these kinds of gigs, they are nerve-wracking every single time.

Edmund had assured me that this one would be easy… But I am not sure about all of this anymore. The security seems tighter than what he originally descried as. Though, he supposedly was right about the basement door at the back, for he didn't return to the car forty-five minutes ago. So, he definitely found the way in, but I am not sure, if nothing has happened inside.

The inside air, even without the engine on, is starting to feel suffocating and hot. I can't stop myself from opening the window slightly and letting the cold night air in, shivering from its contact against my sweaty face. I wipe away a drop and then grip the wheel a moment after. The street lights are too bright.

Two minutes, Ed. If you don't show up, I will-

The door on the other side of the car is opened and I nearly shriek from the sound and feeling of a large breeze flow in. Goosebumps appear under the sleeves of my coat and my whole body grows rigid from tension.

For a second, I think that I have been found, but then…

"Drive!" Edmund hisses, closing the door firmly and buckles himself.

The tension drops and my heart that almost jumped out of my ribcage calms down. Nodding, I turn on the car and listen for a second the engine hum, before taking off. The wheels move smoothly against the uneven road and our road is lightened up by the car's light.

Driving out from between the trees, I glance towards the mansion once more and then immediately lock my gaze on the route ahead. The large building had been so far away, but I can still see the small forms of the guards near the gates.

The black-haired man next to me starts to ruffle his sweat covered locks and it is this moment that I choose as an opportunity to talk.

"What took you so long?" I ask calmly, but deep inside I fear someone may have seen him.

He shrugs few dead leaves off from his jacket's shoulder and I resist an urge to smack him across the head for dirtying my car. "I had to hide for a while, because someone came into the same hallway I was about to use," Edmund says in one breath and inhales deeply and exhales just as loudly. "But don't worry. That person was an old maid, so I am sure she didn't suspect anything."

"You ask to not worry? That old maid could have had the eyes of a hawk for all you know!" I hiss, much like he had moments ago while entering the car.

My partner-in-crime harrumphs and trumps his gloved fingers against the case on his lap. "Well, no need to sweat over small details. I got the documents."

I resist an urge to slam my forehead against the horn. Small details? I will show you small, when we get arrested for this! I take in a shuddering breath, trying to calm the irritation and stress that has formed over the night. It weights heavily on my shoulders and I bite down on my lower lip. Once again, I have helped my friend commit a crime without much of an argument beforehand. It is my choice, so I should know at least that this feeling would come over and over again., if I will continue doing these things.

This isn't safe, or normal. To drive a housebreaker into safety makes me an equal with him and I can be blamed severely for this. I can acknowledge that, but…

"I will pay you once we reach my house," Edmund says, cutting off any sort of guilty consciousness I might have. He glances at me. "Five hundred pounds, right?"

I glance back at him for a second, looking over his blank features to the black rings under his eyes. "Just half the price."

"No way," he answers immediately, sounding somewhat displeased from my suggestion.

"You have already given me more than enough money to survive for a year or two. Plus, you will be also paying my plane tickets, so I can't really take much from you."

Edmund shakes his head and looks ahead. "No. I dragged you into this and made you a criminal."

I wince from the word. Guilt and little shame hammering holes into my chest. My hands tighten on the wheel and I make a turn to the left, seeing the busier road approaching. "I-I… I chose this, Ed. If I didn't want to help you or generally do this, I could have said no to the money. Besides, you have chosen places where it would be nearly impossible for someone to find out about us… This place was also like that, right?"

He lets out a small smirk. "Wow. You sure sound doubtful."

"Can you answer my question, please?"

"Relax, relax. The security seemed tough and all, but most of them were playing poker inside the security room," Edmund says nonchalantly, sliding some of his stray strands off from his forehead.

I snort, tiredness making me start a full-blown laugher inside the car. The road is filled with more lights, so some almost blind me with brightness. "That sounds like something out of a movie!"

"Hey, hey! Eyes on the road!" The black-haired man grabs both his case and seat in panic, when the car almost slides off from the road.

I also notice this error in my driving and quickly straighten the vehicle, cold sweat dripping down my back. There is an itchy feeling at the back of my throat to laugh again for being an idiot, but the sound of Edmund's deep sigh makes me think twice. Carefully, I glance at him to see gloved fingers clutching the case close to his chest, drops of sweat glittering near the hairline.

He is exhausted. It can be seen easily from the worn-out face to the way his eyelids droop half-way shut. The body language he uses is alerting, as well. The drumming of his hand against the object in his lap is becoming annoying. Putting me on the edge as well. I know he is trying to stay calm, but he is anything but that.

The thing he searched for the most… The case is made out of black plastic. It is simple, with two locks on either sides and an equally dark handle in the middle. The reason this whole mess started. I turn my eyes back on the road and try to ignore the sound of his fingertips hitting the case repeatedly in perfect sync. My own fingers tighten around the wheel. It is hard not to acknowledge the nagging, curious voice inside of my head. Edmund and I have been through enough as it is tonight, and we are not completely out of the woods just yet. It is better not to bring up things that either of the two of us could get spiked up from.

But, truth to be told, Edmund hasn't revealed much of what he has stolen this time. Just that there are few documents he wanted to get, and now he has them.

What is so important about them, that he wants to do this sort of thing? All I know, is that it is really important to him.

Too personal.

Then why did he ask me for help?

"Nancy," once again, Edmund snaps me back and seems to try relaxing in his seat. "I swear to you, this is the last one. I will never ask any favors from you ever again."

"Woah! Where does this come from?" I chuckle awkwardly. His voice sounds so serious, almost like a deadpan, which means he isn't joking around, and it surprises me. Well, this night isn't something we should be joking about in the first place.

"I am serious."

"I can tell," I say. I want to smile goofily, to lighten up the atmosphere, so I do that. "But don't you worry! I am your friend after all."

Edmund lets out a tired sigh. "Nancy. You do realize that you have committed crimes with me, right? You can get a free pass to jail like this. And I know you did all of this just because you needed money."

The smile slips away from my mouth from the blunt tone he uses. My hands tighten even further around the wheel to the point I think my knuckles are turning white under the leather gloves. Refusing to even glance at Edmund anymore, I keep my eyes firmly on the road. However, trying to ignore his existence is not a way to erase what he has said. Something feels like it is squeezing my heart and my muscles stiffen the more I replay his words in my head.

He makes it all sound even more wrong to be driving this car to our safe-haven five hours away. He has made me feel dirty all over and my stomach clenches. It may be that he wants me to regret all of this. Why else would he try to do this to me?

When we started this, he had used the same trick. Like to ward me off, despite the fact he needed help. Gradually, Edmund had stopped, but to hear him say such things at the end of our last gig… It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It is ominous, but understandable. He has always been an honest man, ever since he was a child. Raised in a Christian family with obedience. Do not steal, do not lie, respect your parents, serve the Lord. These things he has done with me go against his very life teachings. And I can only imagine how he feels about it. My family isn't that devoted to faith in God or any religion.

But it is because he is acting so out of character, that I have come this far. Despite us being separated by his family's move to another country, we have been as thick as thieves since we were little.

Filled with determination from fond childhood memories, I take in a deep breath. "You are right… A-about the money," I say the words carefully, feeling even more shame. "B-but… As I said before, you are my friend. I want to help you. Even if you don't pay me for this last gig, I am grateful to you for giving me an opportunity to gather some profit."

Ed doesn't say anything for a while. I also don't open my mouth.

"…How is your brother and mother doing?" He suddenly asks, but with more lighter tone than before.

I perk up from his question and a small smile spreads on my lips. "Quite well, actually. Michael is the same old troublemaker – Oh! And mom absolutely loves the dress you sent her a year ago."

"She still wears that?"

"Yeah!" I laugh. Finally, the tenseness in the car can be changed.

The main road is in sight and our car drives across the road, with the first signs of laughter on both mine and Edmund's faces.

And, we both can forget the sins we have carried out, for a little while.

As carefully as I can, I open the half-open door into the warm, but small room. The smell of old books is the first bitter scent that hits me, and I frown, before quietly making my way towards the bed. The floor creaks under my weight and the sound makes me freeze like a mouse about to face a cat.

My gaze darts up to my friend's face, which doesn't even twitch from the noise I have made. Though, he still has dark rings under his eyes, he doesn't look pale like during the night. In fact, he looks calmer, now that he is having bunch of papers scattered all across his lap and legs. Which is a shock, because you would think he would treat them better.

Taking his silence as a somewhat positive sign, I tiptoe to his side and sit down on his bed. Avoiding the old documents, I come closer so that we can feel the other's body heat. "Ed, would you like to eat? You only ate an apple, when we came."

"…No, thank you."

Well, he still seems to have manners. That is good, right?

Slowly, my eyes drag themselves on a single paper he is holding almost limply. "Soooo… This is the thing you have struggled to hold for a while, huh? What is it? Don't tell me it is government's secret document?"

"It belonged to my great-grandfather," Edmund says quietly and brushes his thumb across one line.

….

I stiffen, totally not expecting that. I have driven Ed to different kinds of places, so he could break into different kinds of houses like a master burglar, but not once has something like this turned up to be the object he has wanted to steal. Sure, the other objects he had stolen had also been documents and sometimes he had come back empty handed. But, to hear from Edmund himself admit he has stolen something that belonged to a member of his family, makes my brain turn off for a minute.

Shocked, ashamed and embarrassed, I start to look around the room while mentally starting to scold myself for being stupid. Idiot, moron, imbecile! Think before you open your mouth!

I want to apologize, like properly. I am sitting so close to my friend that it is suffocating and painful to not try and to move a little bit away from him. And not because I am afraid that Ed would actually start being angry at me, but from realizing I might have insulted something sacred and important to his family.

But the only thing that comes out of my mouth amongst the horror and regret is: "Oh… Sorry."

Edmund shrugs, not looking a bit bothered. "'s alright. He wasn't even around, when I was born."

"Oh."

"You don't have to feel bad about it."

"...Okay," I meekly squeak out. Shoulders tense and face firm, I move around a little and try to get comfortable with the silence.

Edmund's great-grandfather… The papers start to look more interesting and childish curiosity whispers for me to reach out and look at one of them. The yellowish papers have much writing on them in a very small handwriting, so I can't exactly see what is in them from this distance. But, the more I look at all of them, the more I become aware how many there are. And a question pops into my mind. Why were these in the mansion?

The owner of that place is, according to Edmund, an old man with too much hobbies. So, did his grandfather and that old man know each other in the past for these documents to end up in the hands of someone with no blood-relation?

"Do you know the owner of that mansion?" I ask quietly, despite the fact that I had been embarrassed just few moments ago from opening my big mouth.

"Nope. Never met him," Ed answers immediately and folds the piece of paper in his hands with utmost care.

"Then, did your great-grandfather know him?"

He shrugs. "According to what my grandma told me, they met few times in the past."

The mention of another one of his relatives makes me smile. I knew his grandmother in the past, when she was still around and alive. She had been such a nice old woman. Now, even more curious, I relax. "Did these documents end up into his hands, because your great-grandfather gave them-"

"No. They were stolen as soon as he died," Edmund cuts my question off with that sentence.

"…Rude," I mutter out, but then straighten up in panic. This conversation might become something overly sensitive. "Y-you don't have to talk about it."

We fall into a short silence, but it isn't as heavy as the previous ones during these past twenty-four hours. I can literally feel how Edmund thinks what he is going to say next. From the crease between his dark brows to way he twitches his thumbs against one another, Edmund looks to be deep in his own thoughts.

The curiosity for these documents and worry for my friend's wellbeing soon fade, when I let out a small yawn. I did sleep around two hours earlier, but it is not enough to replace the missing amount of sleep I didn't get during driving back and forth over ten hours. I rub my tired eyes, repeatedly telling myself not to fall asleep on the spot in Edmund's bed. He also needs his sleep and I have to make sure he does get it. Though, it is somewhat shocking how he can still even keep his own eyes half-way open with the dark bags that are under them.

My eyes close for a few seconds to rest, but then snap wide open, when I feel the gravity getting a hold of me. Nah. Nope! There is no way I will keep staying awake for him much longer. Maybe I will just go to sleep and let him snooze off on his own.

Edmund suddenly nudges me to the side of my arm with his elbow. "Hey, Nancy. You better not be falling asleep on me."

"Hmm…" I hum and rub the spot he hit. "Be gentle… I drove for hours and slept only two… And this bed of yours is really comfy."

A second later, he chuckles and starts to poke my side. "Get out of here."

I twitch obviously from the contact on a sensitive spot and catch his hand in mine. "Stop it."

"You have your own bed."

I grin widely. "But it is too far away."

"You want a drink?" Ed asks back with just as much cheekiness on his own grin as mine.

I perk up from the mention of a drink, but then frown and lower his hand before letting go. "I don't know. I should really go to sleep, so I can even stay awake in the airport."

"Don't worry," Edmund says and stands up without waiting for my next reply. The papers in his laps, the ones he hadn't bothered removing, scatter and float in the air before disappearing behind the bed's edge. He stretches few times, earning pops from his bones and joints, and lets out a satisfied sigh with a small smile. "Only one cup for you and ten for me."

From that, I bark out a laugh and lay fully across his bed. "You do that, and you will be unconscious when I leave."

"Unlike certain someone," he starts with another grin, "I can actually hold my liquor."

My smile falls, and I roll to my stomach and hug the nearest pillow. "Shut up."

The black-haired man lets out a laugh and disappears from the room. I feel somewhat irritated from his comment, but soon find myself smiling against the softness of the pillow. It smells like the house itself. Books, coffee with little bit of smoke from tobacco. He really should stop trying to destroy his lungs.

Sighing, I roll back to my back and look up at the ceiling with a thoughtful face. After this, in few hours, I will go to the airport, enter the airplane and fly back home with my credit card enough money to pay for my mother's hospital bills, enough money to buy my brother and for myself new clothes and stuff. We will have everything for a while and it is all thanks to Edmund. If he hadn't really even considered revealing his plans to me… then this year would have become more depressing for me.

I have to work, look after my brother and mother. Things have been like this for two years, and the wounds from what happened to my father are still fresh. He died from cancer, and the money we got from his insurance was enough. Until mother also succumbed to illness. With the money I have now though, she will be getting much better soon enough and will be able to finish her treatment.

I am a criminal, though. I sit up and put the pillow back down with a heavy heart. Dad, forgive me, but with you gone there is no way we can be happy otherwise. He had been the main provider, in the first place. Someone who kept our family together.

I regret but am also happy from what I have done. The money I have received is from a good friend who needed help, so that washes away a little part of my guilt. But, nobody has gotten hurt, nor was this last trip such a bad thing. Edmund simply got back what belongs rightfully to his family. So, my hands are not fully stained.

Guilty.

The door opens, and Ed walks in with two glasses and a single bottle in his hands. I smile at him tiredly and he returns it with a quirk of a lip and a raise of a bottle.

"The strongest one in the house," he says proudly and lowers the glasses on the table, before opening the bottle with a 'pop'.

"Nice, " I say and raise a thumb up. Then, slowly I glance between Edmund and the remaining papers on the bed. Hesitantly, I reach out to one of them, but just when my fingertips touch it I pull my hand back. "Can I… Is it okay, if I take a look at these?"

The alcohol is dripping down into the first mug, but stops, when its pourer pauses. He takes one look at me and then shrugs. "Sure. Why not."

"You sure?" I ask with a small smile making its way to my face. He nods, and I mentally cheer, before reaching out again and taking the nearest one. Fearing I might make the paper crumble in my hands, I lower it to my lap and start to trail my finger against the words. The writing is truly small and the curves it has seem very old-fashioned, but beautiful, as well. I have only seen something like this in pictures, but to hold a very old document is pretty exciting. I feel like a spy.

However, my excitement and joy dims, when I see what exactly is written on the old paper. "Is this all… in German?"

Edmund snorts and his shoulders start to shake. "Y-yeah."

My eyebrow twitch and I glare at his back. "You are finding this funny, aren't you?"

He is cracking. "Y-yes."

"You know damn well that I don't know how to read this thing!"

"Bwahahaha!" Edmund finally gives up trying to hold back his amusement and slaps his knee with every moment his shoulder shake. His expression is the brightest he has worn today. "Oh, my! You should have seen the look on your face!"

I huff and cross my arms, letting the document fall to the side. "You know what? Laugh! Laugh at my liquor and language skills. Butthead."

"Sorry, sorry! Don't be mad," he chuckles, but isn't looking well enough to calm down from his amusement. As soon as he looks at my frowning face, he bursts out laughing, again.

Well, at least he is in a better mood. Huffing again, I cross my arms. How I wish he would just get drunk and knock himself out already.

Deciding that he isn't worth my time or patience, I look back at the document I dropped. It is true that I can't read almost anything in German, expect for few greetings. But that doesn't mean I don't recognize names or numbers. There are clear numbers of a date and year in the right upper corner and it dates back to 1940. My brain racks with information and then I realize it has been written in the second world war. Intrigued, I look for more clues to know what is being said in the paper and can recognize the name 'Berlin' along with some other ones that seem to belong to people. Honestly, now that I get a much better look at the document it looks more like a list. The words written with capital letters have all been separated by small dots.

The man who wrote these… I wonder what his profession was. I think about a scientist, or perhaps a researcher, but I can't really be sure. Who knows. Maybe he was a pope who wrote his thoughts into these papers? It can be possible, now that I really think about it.

"Here," Edmund says and holds out a mug to me.

I reach out and take it, feeling the weight of the liquid adding to the mug's. "Shall we make a toast?"

My friend smiles a little and nods.

We both raise our hands, keeping the mugs from barely touching each other. I turn my eyes away from them to look at Edmund into the eyes. They are solid blue. Clear and the short curtain of his wavy hair shadows the deep stress lines of his forehead. With this over, I wish for him and I to relax, at least for a little while. But, it is obvious that what we have done can't be taken back.

"This was all for the sake of your family, yes?" I ask with a what I hope is a neutral tone. But my hand is shaking.

"Yeah."

"You promise me never to never do anything like this again?"

The look in his eyes changes, and he straightens up, the free hand reaching towards a Rosario around his neck. "Yes… I so sorry for getting you mixed up in this."

"…You promised me that we never would get caught," I start taking in a shaky breath. I don't even allow a peaceful silence to settle in first. "I trust you as a friend in that. Even though you have not cleared to me what good will come to your family for this."

He smiles a little sadly, nostalgically. "These documents were something my grandma wanted. Even in her deathbed she wished to get these."

…Oh. So now you are playing the guilt-card?

I sigh, shoulders somewhat relaxing. "You should have told me sooner. I would have not felt so bad about this for half-a-year, then."

His smile fades, and a frown appear on his face. "I am sorry."

"You should be," I mutter, but then shake my head. "Oh, well. What is done is done."

"Nancy. I have been very careful with how the things have progressed. I would never allow either of us getting caught or harmed because of this," Edmund grips his mug tighter. "I am sorry."

His words make my chest tighten for the thousandth time. I can't breathe and lower my eyes for a moment, feeling a heavy weight on my shoulders gradually growing into a boulder. After all this time, I only am hearing these kinds of words coming out of his mouth today. Sure, Ed had tried to convince me out of this deal more than few times, but never apologized for what he dragged me into. I have until now simply blamed myself and all of this as the result of my own decision and consciousness to help him out. I still do think like that, but if he continues speaking like this, I might actually start blaming him for ruining half of the year.

I need the money. I needed all of this. Despite constantly repeating these lines in my head, I wanted to go back in time and stop myself from coming to Germany. Now that

"Alright, you know what?" I scoot closer and click our drinks together. "Stop saying sorry, because you got what you wanted, I got what I wanted, but we both made out of this ordeal alive and in some ways well. So, cheers to the victory and for the money I got from this."

Without waiting for his reply, I gulp down the alcohol. The burning sensation in my throat makes me cringe, though. But then I relax, when warmth spreads all across my body and a pleasant shiver runs down my spine. This isn't enough to wipe my worries away, but at least it will keep my friend silent and from saying anything further.

I can't erase what I have done, but the rush of adrenaline is something I can't deny. I have had fun. I have laughed, cried and worried sick to the point of fearing white hairs coming early on top of my head. People out in the world have done much worse things than I. I have simply helped Ed get something which is lawfully his. There is nothing to regret… Oh, who am I kidding? I will regret this my whole life.

The thoughts must have kept me too occupied in my mind, because by the time I lower my mug it is completely empty.

Blinking, I look up at Edmund with an awestruck expression and point at the depth where the alcohol used to be in. "Look! I actually drank all of it! High five!"

His blue eyes look between my open hand to the grinning expression on my face. He seems ready to say something, from his half-open mouth to the small sound in the back of his throat. I can even see how his eyes are starting to water, which makes me think he is about to cry as well… But then he lets out a sigh and slaps his own limb against mine. There is a loud 'smack' in the air and it breaks any tension left in my body and my grin just widens.

"Honestly, you're unbelievable," he breathes out and then starts to drink as well.

"But that is why you love me."

"Yeah, right."

I laugh and double over. The alcohol is too strong for me to stay sane for a long time.

Ed raises his glass again and says simple words, before taking a final, large gulp: "Sieg heil, Nancy."

See, dear diary? It is finally over. And now that I have recalled everything and written it down, I don't feel so bad anymore. Is this normal? I could care less. It is best for me to stay in denial.

This whole day has filled over five pages and now my arm is just hurting. My eyes are tired, my body is tired from the lack of sleep. I could have slept as soon as I took my first glass, but I didn't. It is not because of guilt, though. Nor the excitement from knowing I can go home soon (maybe a little). It is because my head is starting to hurt. The migraine is back, again. The alcohol in me must be gone by now, for it doesn't work on the pain anymore. I can't take the risk of eating painkillers because I still drank, though.

Why is human body like this, anyway?! Can't I take whatever I want, whenever I want?! This is like trying to lose weight! You are hungry and want to eat a big, greasy hamburger, but it has been forbidden from your diet and causes your stomach to be upset!

That's it! I am going to wake Ed up with a bucket of cold water! We have only half-hours left before we must go!

Nancy, out.

The daily schedule of a Head Maid is nothing to gloat about. Especially, if this maid is one of the eighteen working in a small sized mansion. True, to those who haven't seen bigger ones will always think this building looks magnificent, but it is true quite modest.

But it is because it isn't so big, that it is easier to take care of it every week. The Head Maid must always rise first, even before the other maids, and start to prepare herself for the daily tasks. She will make sure that the breakfast will be delivered exactly on time to the master of the household, watch the maids starting their chores, inspects their outfits and looks and how they work around the clock. Of course, there is much more than that to it. Lunch, snack with freshly brewed tea, then dinner, evening meal and tea must all be carefully inspected.

Even now, the eldest woman in the house is pouring hot water on top of the tea leaves and placing it on a silver tray. It would be finished by the time she would take it to the master.

She has never let anyone serve morning tea to the master, never in her years of serving in this estate. The Head maid is a perfect model of a German maid. Hair up in a tight bun with a sturdy body. The wrinkles on her face are simply a mark of experience.

Do not be late.

As if reading that it is time to recall that simple rule, the wooden clock's hands move forward. The Head Maid straightens and takes the full weight of the tray into her hands. She immediately knows where she must be headed.

The master rose unusually early this morning. But that is to be expected, since he has done so every now and then for the past year. You can never really tell when he feels like sleeping late or too little. Thus, today he will be having the breakfast and tea in his office.

"Ma'am!" Another maid almost runs into her on the way out.

She gives her a scandalous stare. "Goodness gracious! What has made you run across this mansion's floors!"

"I-I beg your pardon, ma'am," the young maid quickly apologizes modestly, beats of sweat sliding down her forehead. With wide eyes, she stands stiffly before her superior.

Impatient with hurry, the Head Maids stares down at her distastefully. "Well? What is it? Speak up already!"

"I-it is the master, ma'am," the maid answers in one breath, shoulders falling and rising heavily.

"Hm? What is this about the master?" The Head Maid's frowns deepen.

"H-he…" the young maid struggles to gain control of her breath, but that doesn't seem to be the main problem for why she is pausing all of sudden.

"Spit it out! Has something happened to the master!?" Now, the elder woman is starting to feel anxious from both not knowing and from the younger maid's body language. Her heartbeat rises with every second.

Flinching from the loud order, the young woman opens her mouth and stammers: "H-he is o-out of control."

"What? What is that supposed to mean?"

The young woman's lower lip starts to tremble, and she quickly glances towards the stairway she came from. "P-please, ma'am! You m-must help u-us! Th-the other s-servants are-"

She doesn't get to finish the sentence, when there are loud screams coming from the upper floor. It freezes the air filled with the warm scent of the tea and bread and the Head Maid nearly drops the tray in shock. She listens again, only to hear the screams repeat themselves and commotion grow louder. Something is happening to her master.

Not wasting a second, she lowers the tray and quickly starts to run up the stairs with her thick dress's hem gathered up in both of her hands. The young woman follows quickly after, worry and fear drawn on her features. The closer they get to the place where the screams are coming from, the faster the Head Maid's and slower the lesser maid's steps become. One doesn't know what is going on, while the other one has a very vivid knowledge of what is happening.

The old woman was right to assume that the owner of the house is in some kind of trouble. The screams are coming from his study and its wooden doors are wide open. Few maids stand near it while holding each other, along with couple butlers. All of them having distress and fear as their expressions.

Not liking what she is already seeing, the Head Maid raises her own voice over the racket. "What is going on in here?!"

They all flinch, over six pairs of eyes whipping towards the approaching German woman with fear of cornered animals. One of the butlers speaks up. "M-ma'am."

"Where is the master?" She asks sharply and receives pointed fingers towards the study as an answer.

"M-master, pl-please calm-"

"Shut up! Who was the last person to enter this room!? Tell me right this instant, or I shall slice your gut wide open!" The last voice shouts angrily. Like a mad man ready to fulfill his threat.

The old woman feels a strange chill go down her spine and hurriedly walks in but freezes on her steps from what waits for her.

The room is a complete mess. Large number of books from shelves scattered across the floor near the bookshelf, hundreds of papers laying against the mattress and the dark desk at the end of the room. The lamp that used to be on top of it is on the ground, shattered and pieces of sharp glass glitter against the painfully bright sunlight that is let in through a large window. The shadows of the people are large because of the light, as well. But none are as threatening looking and dangerous, as that of a skinny elder man with a mad glint in his eyes and bony fingers clutching the collar of an equally old butler. The servant man looks terrified to the way his whole body seems to tremble.

The Head Maid can't move. Her whole body refuses to and the air stops flowing into her large lungs for a moment that feels like an eternity. Small sobbing catches her attention through the master's yelling and she looks to the side to see a maid crouching there with two others shielding her from both sides. Still, they are all shaking and two have already burst into clear tears.

Then, the old woman sees what the girl in the middle is holding. Her cheek, which is swollen and red, large crocodile tears rolling down them.

The master had hit her.

It isn't that hard to tell from the condition of the room to the servants who look ready to make a run for their lives.

For the first time, the Head Maid of the mansion does not know what to do. So, she cries out: "Master! What are you doing!?"

Hearing her panicked stricken voice, the man's wild looking eyes slice their way to her smaller form. "You! Tell me who was in this room!?"

Despite not keeping his attention on the butler anymore, the master still shakes his almost limp form violently. The old man looks ready to pass out from the lack of oxygen and the Head Maid takes a step forward.

"Master! You must calm yourself! You are choking Mr. Albert!"

From her words, the old butler is released, and he crumbles down in a coughing fit. Gasping for air like water while extremely thirsty. The Head Maid's and everyone's relief is sort live, though. The master makes his way towards her next, and his steps are threateningly loud.

This man, the one who she has served for over forty years, reaches out and grabs her by the collar, just like with the butler. She feels how the already firm and tight fabric tightens further around her thick neck, cutting large amount of her air supply off and leaving her breathless. Her eyes rise fearfully towards the larger male who glowers down at her like a beast. His eyes glimmer with sharpness unlike she has ever seen. The strands of the usually well-kept hair are sticking to different directions and the wrinkles on his face deepen the anger on his expression.

The servants gasp, when he starts to shake her much more violently than with Mr. Albert. "Answer me! You wench!"

If it wasn't for the fact that she is in shock from being manhandled and choke, the old maid would have gasped in horror. Her master has never, ever, called her something like that.

"M-master!" She tries to pry his fingers off with her own shaky ones, but with no avail. His grip is made out of iron.

"Are you deaf as well!? Who was the last person to enter my study!?" The master growls, spits the words out.

The old maid's ears are ringing from the volume, but she realizes that if she doesn't answer quickly, she will get choked to death. "I-it w-was me, sir!"

The air freezes, coldness can be sensed by every person who watches the scene in utter, terrified silence. But nobody seems to have enough courage to help the superior maid. After all, the master who never mistreated her or the old butler, his most loyal and oldest servants, is currently handling them with roughness of a fierce animal.

The maid feels the fingers tightening, clenching her collar to the point she hears the bones in them pop. Somehow, she just knows that the answer would result in something worse than this. She can already see it through her blurry vision, when master's face twitches into a stone mask of pure white rage. He is deadly pale all of sudden, but the shouting has kept his cheeks red.

"Where did you take them?" He asks slowly, with much lower volume than before.

The old maid stiffens, fearing the cold calmness of his tone. "T-take w-what, s-sir?"

"DON'T MESS WITH ME!"

The world spins around the old maid, and a second later she finds the air being knocked out of her from the impact on her back. The back of her head makes a painful contact with the stone-cold floor and bright stars fill her eyes. Screams and gasps enter through her ringing ears, but she does not have time to register her situation fully. All she feels, is terror for her own life and curls up from the sharp pain all around her body. She fears something might be broke.

Over fifty years of service and respect are shattered at this moment.

The master looms over the half-conscious old woman who groans weakly. But in his eyes is anything but pity. Without missing a beat, he raises a metal stick from the fireplace and slams it down.

The Head Maid screams weakly from the new impact. The spot where the pain shot from throbs and her body shakes like a leaf.

"I ASKED YOU WHERE THEY ARE! YOU COW! THIEF! WENCH! WHORE!" With every insult being spit out, the stick is brought down again and again.

"Ma'am!" The maids scream in horror.

"Master, please stop!"

"He is going to kill her!"

"Hurry! Someone, help!"

"Call the police!"

It is like the fiftieth strike is enough to make all the men in the room move and they approach the master. As he is ready to strike the poor old woman again, they wrap their arms tightly around his limbs, refusing to let their master go for their own sake and for his as well.

One younger maid quickly scurries her way to the old Head Maid who has stopped moving. Worried, she places her hands on her wide shoulder and shakes her carefully. When there is only a weak groan as an answer, the young maid frowns in concern and rolls her over to her back. She gasps from seeing a trail of blood on the side of her head.

"Help! Ma'am is bleeding!" She screams in desperation, looking around for anyone to help her stabilize the old woman. Though, she doubts anyone in this house knows how.

The master, however, looks like he could care less about the condition his servant is in. He struggles against the others who hold him back from lunging at the poor old maid, again. "I order you to release me at once! Where is it!? Where are they!?"

His dilated pupils narrow, and he opens his mouth widely. It almost looks like his face might split in two.

"WHERE ARE THEY!?"