Estella was working with a picture and a spellotape. She was pasting together a picture of a red-headed girl with a pretty face and intelligent eyes. The edges were ripped roughly and the librairy was empty except for her, alone in a corner. She got frustrated with the picture and tore it up again, carefully placing the pieces in the waste basket, only to gently pick them up again and start over. Her black hair fell in front of her face. She had not slept. She had lots of black makeup, eyeliner, shadow, everything. Her lips were a deep blood. She finally finished the picture, placed it carefully in a book, and got up to leave, halfway to the door, Estella bumped into someone. She screamed and fainted, and the book skid across the floor, out of sight.