mary heard the phone ringing constantly, and slowly trekked over to it, her footsteps echoing in the rather empty house. she knew that her husband would be home soon, and that, for now, she would simply have to wait and take care of her children.

she answered the phone.

"hello?" she answered, expecting to hear a cheery reply from anne, or perhaps from her husband. it was her nephew, james.

"a-aunty mary?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "c-can you please come over? please! mummy's dead. i don't know what to do."

mary felt her heart drop in fear. anne? dead? no, oh god no. not anne. please, not anne.

"okay, yes, darling. i'll be over as soon as possible," mary replied "bye, dear."

"bye, aunty."

she hung up the phone, rushing to the children's bedrooms, where robert played, and daisy watched, a smile on her small face.

"come on, dears. we're going to aunty anne's house," she whispered, her voice horse. "you get to see your cousins!"

"oh, yay, mummy! i'm so excited!" robert screeched, daisy letting out a giggle. "me and james get to play?"

"yes, darling. now, come on. get your coats," mary replied. "mummy's going to go get hers. she'll be right back."

"yes, mummy," daisy gurgled, her language still slightly distorted. "i'm excited."

mary merely nodded, not being able to let out another word. her throat started to close up, and she felt tears beginning to well in her eyes, her heart dropping to the ground like an anvil.

she took out a piece of paper, writing a quick note. gone to anne's. meet us there. love you, darling.

she nodded, grabbing a coat and a hat. it was october, and the weather was cold enough.

the brunette swept into her son's room, seeing both her children ready to go. "i helped daisy, mum!" robert exclaimed proudly, smiling brightly.

"good job, robby!" mary replied, wiping her eyes. "now, let's go. hurry, hurry. daddy's going to meet us there."

"okay, mummy!"

the three rushed out the door, locking it behind them. the sky was gray, her eyes were bloodshot, her mouth dry. she tried to keep herself acquainted normally for her children's sake.

she opened the door, helping them both into their seats, sitting in the driver's. she started the car, sighing, slowly driving away.

the car ride was mostly silent, interrupted only by the sounds of london and the car. mary tried not to cry, and kept her mouth shut. tears slowly trickled down her face, and she sighed, biting the inside of her cheek.

as they pulled up to the large apartment complex, mary quickly parked and exited the vehicle, sighing. she unbuckled her children, grabbing their hands to take them to her sister's apartment.

they boarded the elevator, riding it up to the third floor, where they promptly exited. she saw mercedes' teacher, who doubled as their babysitter, standing in the hallway, connie in her arms. mary rushed to her.

"what-what happened?" she whispered, "where's anne?"

the elderly woman merely shook her head, looking quite shaken. she stepped inside, holding the door open for the children, who scrambled inside, disturbed by the silent nature of the normally so bright apartment.

"take me to her," mary spoke firmly, "i need to see her."

mary followed the babysitter to what she knew as anne's bedroom, where a dark shape lay on the floor. mary felt her breath catch in her throat.

she flipped the switch. blood was spattered on the floor next to her sister, who had fallen to the side, her eyes open, a gun in her hand.

"oh, god... oh, god, anne. no.. please," mary whispered, rushing to the side of the corpse, shaking, tears sliding down her face. "phone the police."

the babysitter nodded, and rushed out. she could hear the hushed words of her nieces and nephew, and the quiet sobbing of her children. they didn't deserve this. they didn't.

mary looked around, and spotted a note sitting on the dresser. it was written in anne's cursive writing, though slightly shaky. mary picked it up, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

she began to read it.

my dearest loves,

by the time you read this, i will be dead. i love you all so, so much. i do. i just couldn't go on.

i served in the war. every night, i'm plagued by those memories, they shoot in my mind. i can see my best friend, laying before me on the battlefield, bloodied and dead. i can see my interrogator, nearly drowning me. i can feel the suffocation of those moments.

mary heard the door open, the loud, american voice of joseph, anne's husband, calling out to his children. he seemed happy and excited, though that was quickly silenced. mary was sure that his children had told him. she heard the clunk of glass hit the floor, heavy footsteps clunking down the hallway.

"mary.. is she-" his words were stopped when his eyes turned to his lovely wife, dead on the floor, bloodied and shot. "no... god. no. no, no. did she...?"

mary merely nodded, turning back to the letter. joseph read it over her shoulder.

joseph, i'm sorry. i loved you the moment we met. you were the sun in a place where i could very well die. you did nothing to make me do this. i just had to pile through the same shit every day, my mind plagued, my limbs weak.

mary... god, mary. i don't know what to saw. god, i love you. you've always been there for me, to support me. even when mum and pa forced me to leave. you took me in. you took care of me. when we were children, we played. if i got hurt, you kissed my worries away. i love you, so so much. i'm sorry i had to do this to you. i really am. i'll miss you, so very much. darling, goodbye.

the rest of the letter were words of condolence to her children, and the rest of their family. she was sorry. it didn't make the difference. mary was still haunted by it. she felt like collapsing to the floor, to just lay there forever. she wanted to cry, but she simply felt too weak. she wanted to scream for anne, but she couldn't. she was stuck, without her sister.

anne was gone, and mary knew she had to be there for their families. they would be lost and confused, as lost and confused as she was. but she needed to be strong, because the children needed love. they needed her words. she needed to be there for her.

the letter ended simply: lovingly, anne.