Before the reunification of the Merschant twins, however, Vi went through a year of poverty. A year spent in a mental hell of ice and desolation. Being homeless was so boring. The biggest excitement was stealing what could be sold. She was filthy all the time, her clothes continually ragged and unkempt. She could barely disguise her arrogance toward the situation long enough to avoid lectures -- most of which came from Irene.
The woman served as more of a mother figure for Viola's late teenage years than her birth mother ever could. They had the kind of bond born not of decorum but of necessity. When there was no one left to turn to, Viola had Irene. When there was everyone to turn to, Irene chose Viola. The old woman was cranky and snappy, but she knew what Viola needed to hear and receive.
One of the specific items received by Viola was a simple bracelet -- the chain was thin and old, and the clasp slightly rusted. She commented on the condition of the jewellery, only to receive a curt reply. The bracelet, Irene would remind her, was a family heirloom passed from woman to woman. For the second time within a year, Viola felt tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. First a locket, now a bracelet. If the girl were not careful, she could end up with more than one source of sentiment.
Viola reflected on this thought in hindsight before everything went to absolute shit. When she found her things missing, when she went hunting for the thief, she almost found it funny. Her blind rage prevented her laughter, however, and her panic staunched her need to kill something.
