The Culling Project

By Megan Price

Set on two stamps of land they call the Copper Isles
we meet our orphans at Mawton House. 
Life is good; peace and fun are all they have to worry about.
But then a man they've never met, broken by grief, 
decides they aren't worth the space they take up. 
And so The Culling Project was born. 
He would rid the islands of the unclean and unworthy, 
leaving the peace and safety behind for those who deserve it more. 
That includes those he believes 
will one day fall under such a category. 
Little souls who haven't even realized the world has such bad in it yet.
Now Mawton House is gone.
Twelve years after the devastation left behind after a failed Culling Project, 
the man decides to try again. 
He's had time to think, 
time to let his feelings grow and mutate to create something far worse. 
But now our orphans are all grown up. 
They couldn't save those they'd already lost 
and they knew stopping him wouldn't bring them back, 
but if they sat back and let it happen, 
their survival would've been for nothing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Megan Price
• Release date: Feb 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224652419

Book preview

1

Dianne

The smell of smoke didn’t wake me. Muffled screaming that came and faded like gentle voices went on behind the door. When Mrs. Kenwood came in with Horris and Will close beside her, the screams made my blood cold. We scrambled to our feet, no idea what was happening. Part of me thought it was a nightmare. Flickering light from the doorway sent long shadows dancing around the room. The little candle long burnt out.

We have to go, said Mrs. Kenwood, the hair around her face shaking as she did.

What’s going on? whimpered Aida.

Mrs. Kenwood handed us all wet cloths to put by our mouths and noses to keep the smoke from our lungs. My heart thumped against my ribs, fear welling up inside me. The wooden floor was cold beneath my bare feet, a shiver climbing my body. Crackling and hissing echoed into the room as fire began to swallow the house.

Mary, hurry! shouted Mr. Kenwood from the passage. Other voices, men’s voices, came from the loud rush of flames. They shouted and cursed. The sound of gunshots, bullets hitting the floor below us brought us close to each other.

Come quickly.

What's happening? asked Corrine.

Go down to the back door. Go, she hurried us out of the girls room and into the passage. Black smoke filled the rooms and stung my eyes, making me stumble. The door of the boys' room was kicked off its hinges, jagged wood splinters jutting out around the sides. I caught glimpses of little bodies lying on what remained of the floor, my stomach curdling. I could still hear the voices of children downstairs. I focused on them. Horris grabbed onto my arm as tight as he could and I squeezed him back.

We ran down the stairs and headed for the back door in the kitchen. Mr. Kenwood and a group of terrified boys met us in the sitting room, men slowly winding their way around the furniture towards us.

Run into the woods and hide as best as you can, he said quickly. I’ll come find you.

Where are you going? asked Mrs. Kenwood to her husband.

Upstairs, I have to check if we missed anyone, I’ll find you. I promise.

I shook, my voice trapped inside. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. I wished I was still in bed, that this was a terrible dream, and if I just thought hard enough, I would wake up and this would all be over. But the heat of the house was too much to only be a dream.

Aida and Corrine held hands. Corrine grabbed my other hand and we pulled each other through the house. Will trailed Corrine protectively, though his face was just as pale as the rest of ours. As we reached the room between the kitchen and sitting room, a man as tall and big as the door frames stood before us. The rifle that hung from his shoulder glistened with the flames that climbed the walls.

Run, cried Mrs. Kenwood. The man reached for his gun and we couldn’t move fast enough. Aida fell and her sleeve caught the flames, her scream barely loud enough to be heard through the chaos. Corrine pulled her up and held her close. On the other end of the first floor was the entrance to the cellar.

Go quickly. Don’t come back no matter what you hear, said Mrs. Kenwood pushing us all through the door and down the steps into the dark room. Run.

Not without you! cried Corrine.

Go, Corrine, I'm right behind you.

Mrs. Kenwood kissed her daughter and ran deeper into the house.

Wait, where’s Jane? asked Corrine, her voice frantic.

No, Corrine!

She ran for the nursery just off the study.

Corrine!

We waited in the darkness, the sounds of everything bouncing off the cold stone walls. She was gone for barely a minute. When she returned her eyes were wide and red. She trembled, her voice choking her.

We went further into the dark room, the light from the flames all we had to light the way to the hatch that led outside.

We have to go, I cried when Corrine stopped.

No, wait a little longer. She said she would come.

Corinne.

Wait.

Just as we were about to go, Mrs. Kenwood came in, tears in her eyes. Come on we have to hurry.

Nine of us in total crept out into the early morning darkness. The clearing was bright like daytime with the flames, but the forest was dark. We ran as fast as our legs could take us, the rattle of gunfire behind us. I heard footsteps lessen but I didn’t look back. Horris was beside me, his legs too small and frightened to keep up alone. Then I looked. Only Aida and Corrine, Polly and Will, and Horris and I remained. We left the familiar open space of the clearing and plunged into the inky black forest. I held Horris’s hand so tight I knew I would never be able to let go. The rush of the waterfall grew closer and I knew we would hit a dead end.

The drop wasn’t as scary as it was before; my fear was already at its highest.

We have to jump, I said.

No, I can’t! cried Polly.

I’ll find you in the water.

What about the rocks?

If we stay here, we’ll be killed, I pleaded. On three? One.

The footsteps in the underbrush grew louder, the flames rising over the treeline.

Two.

The jump wasn’t long but we hit the water hard. Pitch blackness surrounded me and I lost Horris’s hand in the current from the falling water. I didn’t know which way was up or down and my lungs began to burn, the air knocked out of me when I hit the water. I swam as hard as I could, praying I was going the right way. I broke the surface and filled my lungs, choking on water that forced its way down my throat.

Polly? I shouted. Polly!

Di! called Horris, a cry in his voice. Tendrils of blood surrounded him, his head badly wounded.

Polly!

I held onto him, doing my best to swim us to the shore. The water was deep, and I couldn’t stand. Aida and Corrine lay on the grass coughing. Corrine looked like a ghost. Aida clutched her right arm, the skin raw from where the fire had reached it.

Where’s Will and Polly? I yelled over the rush of the water

I can’t see them, cried Aida.

The water was so loud I could barely hear their words.

Will! Polly!

Corrine! Will’s voice came from the water.

He held onto Polly, but it was too late. Her eyes were milky, her lips blue. Guilt like a knife pierced my chest.

He struggled to shore with her in his arms and pulled them up. Men gathered at the top of the cliff, and some began to climb down the rocks.

We have to go, said Corrine.

We can’t just leave her.

We have to.

We ran into more dark forest, thorns, stones, and bark cutting my arms and feet. My lungs burned, and my skin was like ice over my bones. Horris dug his nails into my hand as he did his best to keep my pace through the darkness. We ran and fell and pushed on through the forest. Soon we couldn’t run anymore. I looked around in the blackness and couldn’t see the others, but the men’s voices had died down, and we couldn’t take another step.

I wanted to call out, but I had nothing left in me. It was just Horris and I. His skin was pale, blood trailing down his face. The forest was quiet; all I could hear was our rattling breaths and my heart thumping all around me. When I closed my eyes, I could still see the flames, burnt into my mind forever. I would never forget them, the men, my siblings, my parents. The lump in my throat was too much, I fell into the mud and began to cry. I held Horris and cried softly, my eyes still hurting from the smoke. He shivered, the blood from his head began to dry, sticky against my bare arms. Everything was gone.

2

Dianne

The day before...

Istood still and listened , the soft summer wind blowing through the copper trees. West Harbor grew by the day, but out here, in our forest clearing, there were no gray buildings or loud machines, only sun and soft grass and birds. The walk from Mawton House was long, no matter the destination. Today, that was the pond. The shade of the copper trees was a mess of patterns on the forest floor far in front. There were almost sixty of us. Sixty children with no families, with futures as dark as the forest we walked towards. None of us thought like that at eight years old. We thought of the warm sun and cool water, of games we would play and songs we would sing. Not of trouble we might cause as grown-ups or moral crossroads we might encounter. We thought of fun and food and the family we all were.

I watched my feet disappear into the grass with each step as I trailed behind my siblings. The smell of soil and ocean, with the faint scent of smoke from the village, blew across the field. The sound of the Dark Water crashing against the cliffs, people with passions so loud and opposing, and the hiss of the trees filled the quiet. Their leaves were the old color of copper, no matter the season. The trees were the only things the islands had in common.

West Harbor, the ground we stood on, was dark, the colors dull and dirty. But Renford was bright, filled with luxuries that seemed like fairy tales, and colors I couldn’t even imagine. I longed to walk across the bridge, to look up at the buildings and stay up all night listening to the noises. The Kenwood's made trips back and forth over the bridge, but never let us come. But still, I wished to see it one day.

The wind changed, and I turned around to look at Mawton. Despite the distance we’d walked, it still loomed over the soft hills. It was old and run down but the memory of its warmth never left my mind, even when I stood far away.

I walked slowly at the back of the group, watching the girls lock arms and the boys push each other around. Screeching and singing floated away with the breeze. The setting sun was still hot against my neck, and I looked forward to the cold water of the pond Mr. Kenwood had built. It was a runoff from the creek that came to a drop. We had ventured near the edge of the waterfall before, and pins and needles had prickled my skin as I looked down. Fear of the murky water, the loud rush of the rapids, and mist that concealed the jagged rocks below were enough to keep us all away. The sun retreated as we entered the forest, a small footpath all we had to navigate the maze of trees to the pond. The loud chatter of children drowned out the eerie silence of the woods.

Don’t run down the hill! shouted Mrs. Kenwood through her smile as children rushed past her. She and Mr. Kenwood had a daughter, Corrine, her hair as black as her father's and her eyes a clear and happy blue like her mother's. She never looked down on the rest of us, despite being the only one with real parents who loved her and a last name that truly belonged to her. We were as much her siblings as we could be, and she made sure we knew that. I felt sorry for her, having to share her parents with all of us, but she never seemed to mind. She was the oldest, only a year up from me. She wanted to be like her mother one day, take over Mawton and help twice as many.

The green pond glistened with the rays of sun peering through the canopy. On a sunny patch of grass and with orphaned baby Jane in hand, Mrs. Kenwood laid out her blanket and settled down. We swam in groups of ten, the others sitting eagerly on the water's edge awaiting their turn. Groups of boys threw sticks at the girls paddling in the shallow parts, others pushed unsuspecting ones into the water.

No, Horris. Stop, pleaded Polly as she struggled between the three boys that enjoyed teasing her. Horris! he tugged on her arms, pulling her towards the water, her face red with frustration.

As I distracted the boys so she could run off, I told Horris to push me in instead. Horris was the smallest of all the boys, his cheeks full and rosy like a girl's. His orange-brown, wavy hair hung down by his ears, framing his face. His title was unstable, teetering between bully and bullied. I went down harder than I’d expected, his strength more than one would imagine. My dress soaked through to my bathing suit and a roar of laughter made Horris grin. He helped me up, and I dripped into the water, sending ripples across the surface.

Sorry, Di, he said. My smile told him it was alright.

Mr. Kenwood, with his long arms, pulled the three boys in. Everyone laughed and jumped in after them. There were no fish, rocks, or currents, just unobstructed chaos that never seemed to bother our wardens. I never felt like a burden at Mawton, even though we had little money and growing bodies. We worked hard and felt loved.

The day was good. We swam and ate sandwiches, doing our best to keep the sun in the sky as long as possible. Corrine dipped baby Jane’s chubby little legs in the water, her happy giggle breaking through all the other sounds. Aida floated on her stomach making funny faces at the baby, her soft amber curls floating beside her. The three of them were in their own little world.

Aida’s parents had died not too long ago, and Corrine made sure her grief blew past, keeping her mind busy and making sure her nights weren’t filled with terrors. Among the boys on the bank of the pond sat Will, a boy who cared for Corrine more than he could even understand. His golden hair was darkened at the ends by the water. He glanced at her and smiled, hoping no one saw. She barely noticed him half the time, his shyness keeping him away from her. He fell back into the water with the others and pretended his feelings away.

With a band of soggy children in tow, the Kenwood's led us all back to Mawton House before the sun left completely, the soft orange glow covering the clearing. The walk back seemed longer. Colder and quieter as we all dripped off our fun afternoon. The smoke from the kitchen burners mixed with the fluffy clouds as the cooks got supper ready. We weren't allowed in the kitchen, too many opportunities for burns and blisters and broken things. But still, we sometimes snuck in to see the massive pots and fryers they used. A small act of defiance that made our hearts race.

We climbed up the front steps and flooded the big house. Despite the heat of late summer, the sitting room was cold, and Mr. Kenwood lit the fire. We lingered, warming our hands and drying our hair in front of the open mouth of the fireplace.

Go change for supper, Mrs. Kenwood told us. The smell of the pond water hanging in the air.

Take Jane, she handed the baby to Corrine, the hem of her little dress wet.

The girls' wing was emptier than the boys', as our numbers weren’t even. We walked down the passage to our bedroom. Thirty beds jotted out of the walls like rows of cast iron teeth. Half were empty, toys, clothes, and blankets all piled on the empty mattresses.

Why did you let Horris push you into the water like that? asked Aida.

Because Polly can’t swim.

She should learn. Then we’ll have enough girls to go against the boys in their stupid games.

If you think the games are stupid why do you want to play?

They’re only stupid because I can’t play.

Corrine and I laughed, and we all struggled into our night clothes, the damp still clinging to our skin. The pump that brought the spring water into the house was broke, so the pond acted as a bath in the meantime. Corrine pulled off Jane’s wet clothes as the baby wriggled, something between a laugh and a cry filling the wide-open room.

Soon we were dressed and followed the hum of voices that echoed down the passage. Arched windows that lit the long hall framed the dark forest like eerie paintings. We jumped from one puddle of light to another, enjoying the late summer sunshine.

There’s someone by the trees, said Aida, looking out one of the windows.

Where? asked Corrine.

Over there, by the tree line.

I can’t see anything, I said.

Come on, let’s go before we get in trouble, Corrine pulled her from the windowsill.

My stomach felt tighter than I would have liked at the thought of someone lurking in the forest looking up at us. But I knew there was no one there. A shadow, Aida’s imagination, a tree with branches dressed as arms.

Girls? yelled Mrs. Kenwood from below us.

The others flooded up and down the long, curved staircase, the scent of the forest stuck in their hair and on their skin.

Janie needs her bottle, said Corrine as she saw her mother.

Mrs. Kenwood was distracted, concern in her eyes. Yes, I’ll bring it. Settle by the fire, Aida’s lips are almost blue, she said squeezing Aida’s cheeks. We sat on the carpet by the fire, wooden blocks scattered across it as Horris, Polly, and Will built towers and fortresses.

Aida joined in, and Corrine and I lay back and looked up at the tall ceiling. The room was quiet with the others changing upstairs, and we pretended the house was ours.

Do you think it will be like this always? No, I know it won't, I will be much taller. Like mother. As tall as the ceiling, Corrine threw her hands in the air, pointing at the rafters.

Then how will you fit through the doors?

I’ll grow inside the house like a tree. I never want to leave.

Trees only grow outside.

We laughed and planned our nonsensical futures for ages before Corrine sat up and wondered where her mother was with Jane’s bottle.

I’ll go and fetch it, I said, wanting to see the big steaming pots on the burners.

In the room between the kitchen and the dining room, Mr. and Mrs. Kenwood argued, whispering to one another.

You shouldn’t concern yourself with politics; it’ll only frighten you, Mr. Kenwood held her hands.

It should frighten us all, she said. His mind isn’t right; he’s grieving and he shouldn’t be running for a station so high. We are exactly the types he is talking about.

Try not to think of him, it’s none of our concern. The council won't let him act on his threats.

As Mr. Kenwood finished his sentence, he caught a glimpse of me in the doorway.

Dianne, what can we do for you?

I came for Jane’s bottle.

Oh, I'm sorry, Di. Here, Mrs. Kenwood handed me the bottle and disappeared into the busy kitchen. Wonderful smells filled the rooms and the sandwiches we’d had for lunch were far out of our minds. With the lukewarm bottle in hand, I returned to the carpet by the fire. The others had come from upstairs and scattered across the mismatched couches and chairs.

What took so long? asked Corrine taking the bottle.

They were talking.

About what?

I don’t really know.

We played for half an hour more before supper was ready. It was stew, roast potatoes, and mushy peas, a meal we had often but never seemed to tire of. It was warm and filled us up. By the time our plates were cleaned, the sun was gone. We gathered around the fireplace, and Mr. Kenwood told a story of dragons and knights, and kings and queens. He made it up as he went along, waving his hands, raising his voice high, and whispering low. We sat and watched on the edge of our seats as we listened. Half fell asleep where they sat and others begged for another. But it was bedtime.

Mr. Kenwood took trips up and down the stairs as he carried the sleeping orphans to their beds while the rest of us trailed behind him like baby chicks. I was tired and longed for my comfortable bed, for the calmness that came with sleep and the promise of another good day when the sun rose.

From the tall arched windows, I could see the lights of the village peaking through the trees over the soft hill like stars. From one end of our bedroom to the next, Mrs. Kenwood kissed our cheeks and wished us sweet dreams. A candle was left burning at the door to keep the darkness away, the shadows long but familiar.

I thought of what we might do tomorrow, hoping it wouldn’t rain and the sun would last a bit longer. The old house creaked and groaned, and Aida snuck into the bed beside Corrine. Soft whispers like wind hovered in the room and before I could realize it, I was fast asleep.

3

Aida and Corrine

Iran down the street to the harbor, the hill steep and slippery with ice that settled on the cobblestone. The buildings of Renford blocked the evening sun, making the shadows cold. Bonnie was leaving for ten days, and I wanted to say goodbye. I found what remained of the sun on the harbor platform, letting it melt the ice from my blood. I was tired from work but didn’t mind. I got to see Bonnie so little these days. He had started to feel more like a stranger than he should. I picked him out of the group of sailors and workers loading empty grain baskets onto the ships. Their bellies were wide and round, their beards long and tangled. Bonnie was young and slim, towering over them. His almost-black hair was tied in a knot at the nape of his neck. He squinted down at me as I found him.

Aida, he grunted as I squeezed him tight.

You smell, I peeled myself from him. You haven’t even been on the water yet.

He laughed, I had no time to wash up. I had to get my injections.

Bonnie and his crew brought goods from West Harbor into New Renford. The injections were to protect them against any sickness they might encounter. Despite the stories I’d heard, part of me envied him, getting to go there each month. I hadn’t seen my home in so long and still felt sick for it. The story of how Corrine and I came to Renford was long and terrible. We thought it would just be for a few months, then we could go back home.

That was twelve years ago.

My memories of my time at Mawton had faded somewhat, the night of the fire a nightmare I would never forget but couldn’t quite remember in its entirety. Bonnie knew nothing of where I came from, though if he did, he would love me no less. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him.

You should go before it gets busy here, don’t want you trampled.

Just let me watch you for a while.

He smiled and carried on lifting empty grain baskets onto his ship. Renford’s harbor was built on the opposite side of the village, which sat on the easternmost point of the island. So, because of the rocks that ran beneath the water all around, a journey that would take minutes now took hours. That’s why the bridge was built, but since the segregation, it's become a morbid walkway for execution. From trucks and wagons to cargo vessels, we were going backward rather than forward in time.

The harbor was always busy. Guards patrolled constantly, searching every crack and crevice for people sneaking from one island to the other. Families separated during the segregation still trying to get back to each other. Segregation was the more humane alternative to what Eli Arnold had in mind all those years ago. The Culling Project, he’d called it. The merciful put-down of those who gave nothing back to the world, who stole, murdered, raped, and pillaged from those who were worthy of more. From those who were better.

Corrine and I now walked among those with wealthy souls and fuller pockets, those who wore bright colors and drank wine and slept with their windows open during hot summer nights, no worry, no fear. Everyone with sinister intentions was safely locked away in West Harbor. Eli Arnold, I’d found out as I grew older, was the one who orchestrated the entire thing. I had seen him speaking in the village rallies on the television, his pale face illustrated in the papers, and his name whispered. He had stood among the families that ruled the Copper Isles and charmed their sense away. If he wasn’t such a monster, I might have felt bad for him.

His family had been murdered by thieves while he was in West Harbor, a philanthropic man all his life until he came home to a bloody house and broken family. Eli turned his grief on all those he believed were below what a human being should be. After Eli and his men burnt down poor houses that kept young factory children safe from the cold, brothels that gave young women a place to live and earn their own money, and Mawton House, the council saw the madness in his eyes and did their best to stop the civil war that threatened both sides.

Now the borders were closed, the poor and hardworking, the murderers, rapists, and thieves all walked the streets of West Harbor, while those with gold in their teeth and jewels on their fingers lived in Renford. Since then, anger and unrest had grown, leaving Renford scared of what lay across the bridge. Not wanting to lose the lavish lives they had been granted. So when Eli Arnold announced he was running for Chair, the position he’d had all those years ago, those in Renford didn’t protest. Their lives were safe and wonderful because of him, and so they turned their cheeks to the horror that gave it to them.

I watched Bonnie work, sweat beading his face, despite the cold. I looked towards West Harbor. You couldn’t see it from Renford, only the hazy outline from the bridge. I wondered if it looked the same, if the pond was still there, if Mawton had crumbled or if parts of it still stood. It made me sad, but not for myself, for what I lost, but for Corrine.

I should go.

Bonnie kissed me like he might never see me again. Each time he sailed off I feared it might be the last. All I knew of West Harbor was the stories I overheard and the rumors whispered at gatherings. It was harsh and cruel and dangerous, dirty and ruined. I hated it when Bonnie went there, not knowing what it was really like. He never spoke of what he saw, which made it even worse in my mind.

I pushed the bad thoughts away and began the climb back up the hill. Some of my only clear memories from Mawton House were of how Corrine cared for me after my parents died. Every day I tried my best to do the same for her, but she was broken, the pieces scattered too far apart for time to put back. The re-elections looming over the isles had brought back all those terrible memories for her. I quickened my pace, weaving past the many people that flooded the streets. We lived in a small apartment up the street from the harbor and around the corner. Even though we were on the proverbial right side of the tracks, we were still looked down on. Corrine and I worked as governesses for the Christoph family in the center of town. We had moved around a lot, never staying at one job for too long. No one could know we belonged across the bridge because even though we both wanted to go home, we knew we were safe here. It was a hard pill to swallow, but we both took it. There was nothing left for us there. Everyone was gone.

I pushed open the front door, panting from my journey. Corrine sat at the dining room table eating a bowl of last night's leftovers for supper, her eyes tired from the long day and little sleep, her eyes red, the vibrant blue darkened. Since the fire, Corrine’s had terrible nightmares. I’ve had them as well but they’re nothing like hers. She would wake up choking on blood from her nose, rarely sleeping through the night.

You’re eating, I said, surprised.

You smell.

Have you put drops in yet?

They’re finished.

We’ll get some on the way tomorrow.

We stayed up as long as we could, as we always did. Watching the sun go and the moon take its place. Tomorrow would be another long day, even longer than the others.

The morning was dark , winter settling in around us. Corrine was up already. Pulling myself from the warmth of my bed, I struggled to my wardrobe to get dressed for work. We wore dark green dresses and white ascots, like all the other servants. Though no one was poor in Renford, there were varying degrees of wealth. Those with the smallest numbers to their name ended up like Corrine and me.

We scoffed down porridge and said goodbye to the peace of our home, stepping out into the bustle of the morning. We walked along the sidewalk of the shops that lead toward the Christoph’s. We walked in silence, knowing we would have plenty of time to talk today. The Christoph’s were having a party for the political candidates, and we were to make sure the children remained out of sight. Corrine had bitten her cheeks when Mrs. Christoph told us. The council would be walking around in the same house as her, and it ate away every bit of contentment she had found. Eli had kept his head down for many years after the Culling Project, but now he decided he’d had enough of that. Since then, I had worried for Corrine. I hoped he wouldn’t be at the party, or rather that Corrine wouldn’t do something if he was.

The pharmacy came into view, and I told Corrine to wait outside. The man at the counter was less than helpful as he finished the page of the book he was reading before acknowledging me. He looked me up and down, as he did every time I came in here. I couldn’t tell if it was the green of my dress, or my chest, that interested him. I didn’t really care.

He took his time, but I eventually got the drops and left. When I got back outside, Corrine was gone. I looked around at the stream of people that flowed around me. I spun around looking into shops and alleys. Then I saw her across the street, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress.

Where did you go?

Nowhere, she said, looking right through me.

Here, put your head back, I went onto my toes and put the drops in her eyes. People stared at us, their noses high in the air, and soon we were back on our way.

Are you alright? I asked.

Why do you still ask that question?

Because one day the answer will change.

The house was busy, bustling with servants as they readied the house for the night's festivities. I could hear the children bickering upstairs and their mother’s exasperated plea for them to quiet down. Her voice was shrill and unpleasant, and I tried to avoid it as much as I could. We hung our coats by the door before rushing upstairs.

They had four children, all yelling at once.

What’s all the noise? asked Corrine behind me, her voice happy and soft. The only times I saw her old self come through was when she was around the children, fragments of an old dream that still remained. The eye drops hadn’t worked yet, and I could see Mrs. Christoph looking.

"Have the