Chapter Two: Skeletons & Cobwebs

♡

Mrs Dawson stood in her dimly lit kitchen; arms agape as she paced to and fro. Her bare feet brushed against the marble floor as her brown ankle-length chiffon gown gracefully swept its uneven surface.

Worry- it was boldly embroidered on her face.

Her nose scrunched up to support the pair of glasses that sat on her pointed nose.

Hands ran through her braided hair as she counted down the seconds-

One, two, three...

The house telephone rang momentarily and she pounced on the receiver like a lion on its herbivorous prey.

Her hands shook nervously as she handled it.

"Hello?" Her shaky voice mused, with eyes that vigorously searched the environ like a thief's.

"It's done," the voice echoed from the other end of the line.

The woman put down the phone. Her body vibrated with the anxiety that bit into her flesh.

"Hospital," she mused to herself, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen island.

She soon dashed out of the house with such unhealthy speed, leaving Joan with the house key and an ounce of worry.

It was almost like she- Joan could feel the wave of the storm that was about to hit.

But there wasn't much she could do. The young lady tightened the strap of her plus-sized maid-dress, tailored to suit her physique and resumed her household duties.

She was always up and doing, shunning Rena's helping hand on numerous occassions- her way of showing appreciation to Mr Dawson and his wife for dusting her up from the slums.

***It was then in downtown Crawford; about ten years ago when She was yet to be the developing town she currently was.

J-baby as Joan was popularly called then was the youngest, smartest-looking hotcake in Olosho district.

Barely 16, she found herself caught up in the fast life ... prostitution was her muse.

Since her parents had passed before she knew who she was, she had been bred and brought up by a certain vile relative- a pimp who entreated her to sell her body for money.

He first introduced her to the trade by using her as a test subject for about a half of her developing years;

Haineous indeed,

But the middle aged patrons that slept with sixteen-year-old Joan could be compared to the animalistic idiot.

It was only a matter of time before she took in with a child whose father was unknown.

On one of those gloomy dark-weather days in Crawford and her young life, Uncle Dumebi as she'd addressed him was in sync with all the demons that walked earth's surface.

Joan was a few weeks into her fourth month then and it was the third month of her stay in the dimly lit, smelly little room Uncle Dumebi had trapped her in since he found out about her pregnancy.

A plate of rice and a bowl of a watery, colourless substance with dots of greens- stale vegetables was all she got on days that the miserable drunk remembered to feed her.

Of course he wasn't directly related to her; the man was her maternal step cousin but she called him uncle due to the age difference.

Joan had grown to hate him more than she hated herself and life.

He killed every form of childish innocence and dignity in her.

She was ready to die in that little room- and sure, she tried to every single day but

... there was a safe, faint presence with her everyday for the period she was trapped in that room.

Joan assumed it was her baby; that she had formed a bond unbreakable with the unfortunate little thing.

It made her feel peace, on days that either little Ma'ami kicked so violently or the weight of carrying life strangled her.

Even on the days she thought about strangling herself.

Sometimes, she would think about all the hurt Uncle Dumebi had caused her and would try to vent it on herself so she could eventually die.

But, she couldn't...

To her disappointment, she probably didn't hate him that much ... or was it that she surprisingly loved herself a little? ...

Or could it have been the presence?

On that fateful day when she met Mr Dawson, Joan had planned to escape her hell.

Luckily, Uncle Dumebi had invited some midwives to deliver the child.

On seeing the condition of the man's place, one of the women decided to take Joan to her place to rest after delivery.

The girl escaped on the third day, abandoning her newborn.

She was nearly knocked down by Mr Dawson's Station Wagon in the middle of the cool, dark night of downtown Crawford.

There on the wet tarred road she sat, staring wildly at him clutching a few of her belongings to her chest.

Mr Dawson stared down at her in shock and wonder- he thought it was an animal or possibly a bandit due to her bulky form.

That night as Joan rode home with this inhumanly kind stranger, her eyes watered with the words he spoke to her;

'She was worth more than her mistakes' and, 'the people that once exploited her would beg to be partakers of her breakthrough.'

All her life, she was a toy to disgusting people- abusers, but since she begun living with the Dawsons, she felt worth and purpose spring up in her over the years.

Mrs Dawson received her warmly like her own, and so did the twin girls the couple was blessed with.

Mrs Dawson went the extra mile to ensure they took Joan who was three years older than they were as an elder sibling.

Not to mention her education that they sponsored till date, setting her up for therapy and various workshop sessions to build her into the woman she was made to be.

Nevertheless, Joan still felt grossly indebted to the couple as bits of her past crawled up the rusty vines of memory lane to catch up with her- she'd left her child to the same fate her parents had abandoned her to... and the guilt still ate her.

The Dawson couple were her god. They were the only good thing that she had ever encountered in her life, even as a young vulnerable minor.***

Her mind jogged back to the present as she shook off the wave of nostalgia that briefly overwhelmed her...

♡

It was about 5:00pm at Crawford Medical Institute when a slender, brown-skinned, twenty-three-year-old girl was rushed into the ward.

Doctor Maxwell was the only less busy practitioner on duty at that hour. Stella- his 'partner,' and her team were currently occupied with a soon-to-be-mom.

"She's your patient." Stella scolded, mixing in a cup of coffee for the night's shift as she sat at her office desk.

She had just finished aiding nature in bringing new life to the world- an additional citizen of Crawford.

"I know." He groaned, pacing about the room in long strides.

"Then how come you're this careless with her?! For crying out loud, there was poison in her system." She placed the cup to her lips and sipped her drink.

Maxwell tipped his head backward and took off his glasses, revealing feminine eyes that added to his natural allure.

He was a fine, tall man.

Though not front-page magazine, head-snapping, jaw-dropping kind of good looking but he sure made the handsome guy chart and was quite a reserved ladies' man;

He was a gentleman with a somewhat European-resembling visage and a pale, brown-ish skin.

"I know, I know, but ... the girl is hardly around for checkups. I called in once or twice to check in on her but ... I didn't think-"

"Once or twice!" Stella exclaimed. "Max, she's a cancer patient for crying out loud and you know very well how suicidal they can be. What if she'd died?

What would that have said about you as her doctor?"

"Nobody's dying, Stella." He replied casually. "I'll fix it."

"Hmm. Goodluck with that one- you'll need it." She scoffed and finished her coffee.

Maxwell ignored her remark and exited her office in his majestic Dwayne-Johnson-ish strides as his shoulders danced inside of the snow-white coat.

♡

A splash of orange and pink painted the evening sky as the rays of the setting sun casted itself on the light-blue bedsheets.

From where she lay on the hospital bed, Rena could see the mesmerising view of Crawford's beautiful mountains and the hilly road that stretched upward into the distance, making a cluster of identical buildings on the hill to appear like a celestial city descending out of the sun itself.

She sighed- unconsciously she had held her breath for the few seconds when she took in the amazing view.

It somewhat stole her attention from the crisis that stared her in the face like a black shadowy figure in a bland grey mask.

Her arms and legs felt limp and her chest like she was carrying the weight Crawford's mountains on them.

Her eyes drifted to explore the ward- it was serene;

Brick walls, carpeted floors, a casual potted plant by the door and a small cabinet in the corner.

It felt quite comfortable in the room but she wasn't interested in finding comfort there since she had no plans of spending another day at the Institute.

Rena sighed again, but this time, in silent frustration.

Her eyes travelled down her body; she was clad in a light-blue hospital gown and a drip was connected to the back of one of her hands.

She didn't wish to be there at the time. She never did.

No one had come for her yet- sad. Mummy and daddy undeniably must have still been busy at the church ... as always.

Nike ... Nike couldn't have known. They had fought.

"As usual... Can't remember anything," she mused.

It wasn't the first...

Nor the second..

The third?- no. It couldn't have been.

Rena momentarily heard a knock. Her eyes snapped away from the window view to meet that of a doctor- her doctor.

"You're awake!" He remarked, leaning against the door.

She thought the doctor was quite a friendly one and there was always this aura of inner calm she felt around him.

"Yea, I am." She replied feeling weak from the attack.

Maxwell being a good doctor noticed how unnaturally stiff she was on the bed.

So, he broke eye contact briefly and advanced towards the intravenous electrocardiogram, inspecting it meticulously.

After a few minutes of paying attention to the machine, his patient calmed, just as he planned.

"Miss Dawson," he called turning to her with a swift spin of the heels.

Unfortunately, she suddenly stiffened again.

The young doctor arched a brow in dismay.

This time, he went through a stack of files on the cabinet at the corner of the room and muttered the words; "You'll be fine," to make up for her name that he had called earlier.

Seconds rolled into minutes as he focused on the sheets of paper rather than on her.

He really needed her to be calm so she could open up to him.

He was well aware how secretive suicidal patients could be...

With fingers crossed, he slowly peeped over his shoulders hoping to find her finally calmed.

Instead, he met a pair of widened eyes staring back at him.

"Weird girl," he muttered under his breath, putting down the few sheets of paper in his hand.

He proceeded to draw a chair closer to her bed.

"How are you feeling?" He asked with a calming subtle smile- professionally forged.

"I'm okay. I feel better."

"Any migraines?"

"A lot."

"That's normal." He pressed his palm on her forehead.

She stiffened again.

He hesitated.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmmm," she hummed a yes as her heavy-lided eyes stared back at him.

"I disagree." He scrunched his brows slightly. "Why have you been so jumpy? You can tell me about it, can't you?" He smiled again.

"About what?"

Doctor Maxwell paused and pressed his lips together in disappointment.

Stubborn, he thought.

"The lab scientists found poison in your system, Rena." His tone was serious and deep- finally called her name for the first time.

She stiffened again.

He continued; "Have you been having suicidal thoughts again?" He asked in a softer tone.

He thought they had been through this phase already. "Its okay if you have," he muttered with compassion.

Rena's eyes had begun to water. She shut her eyelids tightly to prevent the crystalline balls from falling down her face.

"No, it's not!!" She cried.

Doctor Maxwell's eyes widened. Emotion- finally, he was getting somewhere.

"Shhh," he hushed.

This time, she didn't stiffen and instead gazed outside the window;

The sun had set and night was fast approaching.

"I..." Rena put her hands together and fidgeted with her fingers. "I... thought..."

Her words slurred.

The doctor stared down at her, waiting for words that didn't come out.

Her brown skin radiated in the crystal moonlight.

He watched her expectantly.

But,

Her mind drifted...

***Mummy and daddy stood over the stretcher- the former weeping uncontrollably whilst the latter nursed an expression of grave fright.

Rena's eyes dulled, opening and shutting at regular intervals.

Lazily, they searched the room; The doctor was there too- as terrified as her parents, only that there was a glint of something she assumed mummy and daddy had lost a long time ago.

Hope.

"You can't go any further from here... we have to ........ the ICU...... critical," Rena heard one of the specialists warn.

She felt life slipping away from her- she smiled.

But the pain was unbearable. It was probably the reason she couldn't shut her eyes and transcend.

Then she began to feel regret. Not for attempting to steal the breath of life from herself, but for not doing it in a more efficient way.

"I wouldn't have used the knife," she muttered to herself as they wheeled her away.

"You'll be fine," the doctor assured, staring down at her.

A bunch of hours later, the specialists had finished from surgery.

They'd managed to stabilise Rena and she had finally woken up.

"Am I dead yet?" She muttered, rolling her head from side to side.

Mrs Dawson who sat next to her burst into tears on hearing her daughter's utterance.

Her husband calmed her and requested for time alone with the teenage girl.

"My princess."

"What do you want?" She asked weakly but emotionless.

Mr Dawson was well aware of the fact that his daughter had lost all hope in any form of remedy.

"You won't die." He voiced sternly, staring right into her void eyes.

"Oh," her eyes lit up with mockery. "Did God say that too?" She asked with a soft chuckle.

Her father sighed.

"Rena,"

"So its not princess anymore. Well of course its not since all I am now is a stale piece of vegetable.

I mean, look at me; I'm a corpse already. Its too bad I can't be your perfect child anymore.

I know Jenna would like a turn. I mean, I've been doing it for the past eighteen years."

Rena tried to turn her body to the window- away from her father but when she couldn't, she turned her head alone.

"God will make a way..." he begun singing a popular song they used to sing in church together ... when Rena still used to attend church.

When she used to attend church; it was about four years ago.

Rena was a lovable child and even when she went into her early teens when most children begin to change most times for the worst, she still remained a hardworking, ambitious teenage girl at school and in daddy's church.

She inspired her mates with how much she dreamed, how much she knew at a young age and how boldly she spoke- even those who weren't as opportuned or as privileged as she was.

She was a wise little woman, a problem solver and even allowed a bit of her daddy's qualities to rub off on her.

For instance, Mr Dawson being well to do used his church as an agenda to grow, invest and create opportunities for the less privileged people in the town, even while informing them about the Word of God.

He proffered resulting to showing them the nature of the God he believed in- thus, he found Joan.

Rena saw all her daddy did; she saw the number of hopeless masses he gave new hope.

She saw the children of her age that had suffered terrible things like abuse, poverty, addiction, trauma and neglect and how they'd been lifted.

In all, she wondered just how wonderful the God that inspired her daddy to do all these was if her daddy was this amazing.

This and all was the inspiration and the drive that made her love 'the God'..

She was taught she could talk to the God- he had ears.

She could trust the God- he wasn't human.

She was also taught that this God was love.

She could feel the God around her when she wanted to, and only when she wanted to.

He felt like the peace of the breeze, the warmth of the sun, the force of the storm..

He felt like the galaxy of stars in the night sky.

Even when she wanted Him to feel like her pillow during dark nights, He did!

Dark nights?- Rena indeed had dark nights.

No one but her family knew she was a sickler ... a cheerful joy-spreading sickly child.

She still believed this God until her occasional visits in the hospital and regular medications and periodic attacks turned into something more horrific..

And the girl into something else.

"...He works in ways we do not see..." Mr Dawson continued his song.

"I'm trying to sleep for crying out loud. Nurse!!" She cried.

A nurse showed up momentarily and advised Mr Dawson to leave the ward.***

Rena's mind slipped back to the present as she groaned in fear of a traumatic nostalgia.

"You thought?" Doctor Maxwell asked on noticing that he'd been staring at her absentmindedly.

"Its nothing," Rena mused.

He drew his seat closer to her bed.

Rena noticed the movement and glanced at him.

His glasses reflected the moonlight, restricting her from seeing his eyes.

"Rena," he called. "I've known you and your parents for the past four years that you've been my patient. I know its been tough for you and them. I'm sorry."

Silence reigned for close to a minute- he waited for a reply but she was mute.

Finally speaking, Rena asked;

"How long do I have again?"

His heart sank on hearing her words- to his surprise.

"F-four months," he stuttered.

"Thank you."

She shut her eyes for a while such that he thought she'd slept off...

And he was right- she had.

Maxwell covered her with the bedsheets as she drifted away into dreamland.

♡

It was dreamhour at Nike's...but she had to eat, especially after the long, hectic day.

She lifted her grey enamel pot, taking her food off the fire.

She served herself- a wholesome helping of ogbono soup and an extra large heap of the autonomous eba.

She needed to eat- at least for the sake of her mental health.

She just had to.

But, it all backfired sooner once she sat at her small dining table and realised that she had no appetite for food;

Not even eba!

She pushed herself off the table and dashed into her bathroom.

The room was filled with aesthetics and well, a lot of purple.

She turned the tap knob, running a bath for herself.

In no time, she slipped out of her clothes and into the bath.

Nike shut her eyes for some calm- it wasn't working.

It was then crashing down on her from two angles;

Her past and the guilt of what she'd done to Rena.

Her past...

Nike's mind slipped into the forbidden door- the door she didn't wish to open. The door that would have been shut if Rena was with her because it was the good times she spent with her best friend that kept the door shut.

Rena found a way to make her feel like a better person every single time...

A person better than who she actually was... or rather had once been.

***The Martins Mansion stood tall in the grey weather of Crawford one fine evening.

In a warmly lit bedroom, a girl sat at a cocoa brown mahogany desk, seemingly engrossed in a few sheets of paper, coloured pens and grade A pencils scattered all over the desk.

At the top right corner of the wooden desk, an electric lamp stood, casting its warm light on her brown skin and art pieces-

Interior decor; she'd been designing aesthetics and designs for houses and she loved it.

It always took her sad little mind off the bad things that bothered it.

The girl- Nike, was talented and it was unarguably evident in the way she'd decorated her bedroom in shades of purple and violet.

Hints of brown wood, red brick and black carpet and curtains stood out in the right proportions.

In all, she loved her room; it was her sanctuary..

The only thing she loved more than her room was her best friend, Rena whom she liked to see as a kid sister.

Besides, she had no siblings and Rena being a twin never got along with her own sister.

As she sat at the table scribbling, she heard a faint crash, probably coming from the other end of the large house.

"Mom! Dad!" She cried, dashing out of the bedroom.

"You're a stupid man!..."

"Shut up! Useless woman! I'm leaving this house for you."

"Mom ... dad?!" she ran down the hallway to the other side of the house where her parents bedroom was located.

Nike's father stormed out of the bedroom, pushing her to the side- he was drunk again and mom was angry because he was 'staining the family image again.'

"You're lucky the press took a shot from behind. At least we'll be able to cover up this mess for you." Mom scolded.

Dad was really wasted in that state- he muttered some slurry words that no one could pick up and staggered from one end of the hallway to the other as he went. Nike feared he would fall.

The girl watched her father leave as usual but this time was different; he didn't come back.

"Mom, dad isn't back yet." Little Nike stood at the doorway of her mother's library, desperately clutching the doorknob.

"Nike, as you can see, I'm very busy with some important work. Go and do your colouring." Mom ordered.

But Nike had no colouring to do... she finished from that phase of education years ago and mom should have known that!

She wasn't even sure mom knew her age but the woman knew her lousy sheets of documents such that whenever she instructed Nike to get them, she would call them by their number as they were organised in the cabinet.

"I'm going to see my friend."

The girl stood for a while, waiting for permission.

"Did you say something?" Mom looked at her, feeling a bit irritated.

"I said I want to..."

"Nike, here's some money- just go, go away and don't be home in an hour."

Mrs Martins waved her daughter off.

Nike gazed at her mother in amazement and checked the library clock- a few minutes past ten.

There was no way she being an eleven year old was going anywhere at that hour.

She just wanted to buy her mother's attention ... again. But as usual, it turned out to be that it was way too expensive.

It was quite obvious that her mom just needed time alone with one of her numerous flings.

"Which of them?" Nike asked in anger, mingled with sadness and frustration.

"What?!" Mom exclaimed, not lifting her eyes from the sheet of papers.

"Is it Sam, Harry, Benedict, Vic or?-"

Mrs Martins jumped to her feet and tore a brutal slap across her daughter's face- but probably not brutal enough because the girl didn't move.

She must have been used to it already.

"Are you stupid?! Go to your room!" She yelled in her high-pitched tone.

Nike turned around and started to walk away but mom changed her mind and pulled her back.

"You know what, you need to learn a lesson you ungrateful, little thing!"

Nike knew this one;

Mom was going to lock her up in her bedroom again..

She threw the girl into the bedroom and clicked several locks shut.

Nike breathed in deeply; calm. Luckily, she had a spare key that mom wasn't smart enough to find out about.

Whenever she needed anything, she snuck out in the middle of the night- Nanny helped her.

She was left with a choice none other than to help the poor girl since Mrs Martins literally forgot that Nike was alive.

Her popular phrase was; "Out of sight and out of mind."

In all, she preferred to be locked up in her sanctuary than be caught up in the drama of the vampire couple- what she called them.

Nike drew the inspiration from one of the numerous children's storybook she used to adore reading when she was stuck in her bedroom.

Vampires according to the book were portrayed to be self-seeking egoistic creatures, even to their loved ones and if you asked her, that was the perfect description of her parents!

Nike was well used to all the stunts her parents pulled until she turned teen and it grew worse.

"Suzanne, just file for a divorce for goodness sake! Look at what you're doing to yourself!"

"I wish it was that easy." Mom was sprawled on the floor of the kitchen in an unsuccessful attempt to drown her sorrows in alcohol.

"It is. But you?- you just care about what other people think more than what's really best for yourself and your family?!

You just don't ... care. You're selfish." Nike scolded.

"If I'm selfish, then your father is a pathetic demon! ... I hate him so much..." her lips broke into a smile as she sipped from the bottle again.

"The press, the public, the other Senators, the company, our reputation- everything is at stake."

Mom continued to explain mindlessly. She couldn't take it.

Nike stormed out of the kitchen and dashed into her bedroom.

Her handset rang- it was Rena's parents. Her friend had had another attack.

Nike ransacked her own bedroom until she came across the wooden cabinet right under the dresser.

She slid her hands behind and pulled out a transparent bag of white powder from the back of the cabinet. The girl breathed in deeply.

"I'll need strength to be strong for myself and for Rena," she reassured herself and opened the bag.

After multiple intakes of the substance, Nike lay on her bed for a while and pondered on her life;

She knew she had a problem.

She'd learned it wasn't perfect anywhere.

Even Rena's amazing family had flaws and her seemingly perfect front-page magazine family ties were even more broken.

Nike glanced at the substance one more time; a far-away look in her sunken eyes.

"If Rena survives this, I'll stop." She vowed to herself touching the only bit of nature in her room- the potted plant at her bedside***

As Nike's mind darted back to the future, fresh tears cascaded down her small, round face.

She sank her entire form in the warmth of the tub of water and breathed in deeply.

She loved her friend dearly- she was her source of inspiration and strength and that was how she was able to remain the strong one.

Everything Nike did to Rena was for her own good.

Rena simply inspired her without moving a muscle.

Every challenge that came the girl's way was like a ray of hope for Nike because the former always overcame them so she knew that her friend would overcome this one as well.

♡

"You did what?!"

"It was ... I thought it was for the best but," Rita's voice quaked as she knelt before her husband, with hands clasped in front of her.

Their bedroom was dimly lit with only the light of the night lamp at their bedside and that of the moon outside the window by the sofa.

"But you killed her even more!" Bryan felt his head spinning like yarn. He drew out a desk chair and sat on it, placing his head in both palms.

He loved his wife but, she was quite a handful sometimes and this time, she'd overstepped.

"She's still alive, Bryan..." she explained, trying to cushion her fault.

He slowly turned his head towards her and spoke in a hoarse tone;

"But you should have waited. Why did you let anxiety and hurt push you so far? Do you even realise what you've just done?!" He wore a dead stare as he fought the tears that clouded his eyes.

The man felt his heart thump so hard, it felt like it would rip right out of his chest.

"Yes ... yes ... I know I've done a grave evil but, my love, please..." Rita desperately crawled up to where he sat and held on to both his legs, weeping uncontrollably.

Yea, she'd done wrong- really wrong and this time, it would take more than just her husband's love for her and his sympathy to right these wrongs.

Bryan stared down at her- she looked miserable.

He felt pity for her and for himself.. but most especially for the victim of his wife's latest misadventure.

Her misadventures?...

Oh, Mrs Dawson had had many of those in the past;

Many that no-one could've fished out, even if they tried and it was all because her loving ... naive?- doting, rather.. her doting husband got her out of it.

Bryan wasn't fond of recalling who his wife was before he married her.

He liked to see her as though her being married to him turned her into an entirely different person;

And, it was safer for him that way.

"Bryan..." Rita called, pathetically. "I'm breaking.." her voice drifted off as she burst into tears of deep anguish.

"Shhhh" Mr Dawson leaned down on his wife and helped her seat on the chair he was previously seated at.

"I know." He comforted. "And I'm very sorry you're going through this with me but, God is with us and I am with you. I love you, Riie."

Rita burst into fresh sobs and clutched her husband tightly.

Mr Dawson led his wife to bed.

♡

The very next morning, Mrs Dawson stood in her kitchen prepping the family's breakfast with the assistance of Joan- something she rarely did.

She felt motivated on this particular day so she'd decided to make the meal herself.

On other days, everyone would simply help themselves until dinner time when the ladies of the house would help with the cooking or they would all eat out.

But this particular day was different; she felt wonderful from the previous night.

The kitchen was beautifully lit with the golden rays of the sun.

It was sunny that day in Crawford- clear skies and there was no fog coming from the mountains afar off.

It must have been a good day! ... for some people.

Due to the colour scheme of the kitchen;

Brown, reddish brown, carton, azure..., the kitchen looked simply delightful in the golden rays of the sun.

"Beat the eggs before the vegetables go in," the woman instructed as she took out a few slices of bread from the toaster that sat on the cabinet.

"Yea, mummy." Joan replied.. "You seem to be glowing this morning." She complimented.

"Oh, it shows?!" Mrs Dawson gushed, touching her cheek with her palm as she smiled. "My dear. You'll understand better once you get married."

She threw a glance at the young lady who shrugged her shoulders in response as she worked.

As Joan fried the omelettes, Rita set the breakfast table right on the kitchen island- She loved the family to eat breakfast there.

Mrs Dawson was about leaving the kitchen to call Rena for breakfast. Suddenly, she halted in her steps as the memory of the previous day washed over her.

She quickly leaned over the kitchen sink and washed her face. Momentarily, Nike entered the kitchen♡