Prologue

10 years ago

“Take her away from here,” the woman said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

As the man knelt over the woman’s body, he noticed two things. One, in the ten years that he had worked for her, he had never seen her so frail, thin, and powerless - her skin paling, her fingers trembling, her eyes no longer able to focus; and two, despite all of that, he was still deathly afraid of her.

Confused by her request, the man waited for her to speak again. 

“Please,” the woman repeated, less audibly now, “Take her away.”

He didn’t know what she meant, nor why he was the only one here beside her. He also didn’t know why he had failed to notice that beside this woman was a small child, fast asleep on the cold, hard ground.

“My daughter,” the woman explained, “She can’t be here.”

The man inhaled a breath, then slowly exhaled. He didn’t even remember how he got here. He didn’t know this woman had a daughter. But who was he to judge or question? He had one job, and he has had it for the last ten years: to follow this woman’s commands, to do whatever she says. So he should continue.

“Yes, madam, of course,” he managed to say, “Where do I take her?”

“Anywhere,” the woman answered, “Anywhere but here.”

The man still did not understand. “Yes, madam, I will take her away. Can I ask… why can't she be here?”

The child shifted in her sleep. The woman took in a suspicious breath, one that she felt deep down could be her last. “Because,” she managed to gasp, “this place will kill her.”

Then she fell into her eternal slumber.