T. Reese

I stood over James’ broken body and turned, heading out of the stables and to the burnt out skeleton that had once been called my home. I picked through the rubble, thinking; if they took Anna then they have Mother. I will find them. As I was making my way through the rubble, I cried out in horror, “No, Mother!” I stumbled, hurrying to the hand that I saw jutting from beneath a piece of broken timber.