Nora stepped off the bus, a cool breeze causing her skirts to flutter around her legs. Strands of blonde locks obscured her vision, and she lifted a hand, taming the unruly mess.

"Now, where am I?" She mused, her eyes darting around the camp area. There were tiny cabins spotting the large, circular area, all of which was situated behind a towering wooden sign. The name of the campsite was faint, weathered away from the years. Nora clicks her tongue, fingers tightening around her violin's case. "Of course." She pulled in a deep breath. "Calm down, only irrational people allow their emotions to get the better of them." Her eyes scan the rest of the area, finding it empty of all other life forms.

What would Elijah do in this situation?

She found the words inhabiting her thoughts before she could stop them. Her stomach turns over and a pressure weighs on her chest, crushing her heart. The covers the spot over her chest, swallow a large ball in her throat; she locks the tears away, but not before one escapes down her cheek. Her hand swipes it away.

"Get ahold of yourself." She fans at her flushed skin. The temperature had seemed rather high in the bus, but now that she was under the unforgiving rays of the sun, it seemed like torture. "First matter of business is finding shelter from the sun," her eyes scanned the area, landing on a blurred figure sitting on one of the cabin's porches. She gathered her skirts, not thinking twice on the matter, and rushed towards the figure.

An elderly woman with a partial hunch in her back sits in a chair, fanning herself with a newspaper, a pitcher of lemonade sitting on the table beside her. Thin, grey curls frame the woman's wrinkled, pasty face. Chills raced up Nora's spine at the beady eyes of the woman.

"Look who finally showed up." The woman croaked, her voice akin to the carriage wheels on pavement. Nora pulls back before stopping herself and squaring her shoulders. The smile she reserved for afternoon teas turns up her lips.

"May I trouble you for some of your time?"

The old woman scoffs, knocking Nora's smile down a peg.

"Suit yourself. There's an open seat there." She nods to the wooden chair across the table. Nora thanks the heavens for all her lessons on composure because she surely would have lost it then at the sad state the thing was in. Not wanting to offend the woman, she climbs the stairs, flinching with every creak.

"Thank you," she said, her voice wavering as she takes a seat, every one of her muscles braced for the chair to collapse from under her. The woman eyes her from across the table, before grabbing the pitcher of Lemond. Before Nora can protest, she pours a glass. Nora grabs it, the liquid sloshing over the rim and onto her white cotton gloves.

"Drink up, it's a blistering one today." Nora nods, her smile tight as she stared a hole into the lemonade stain. "The names Avis."

"Nora," she replied. "Nora Poyntz. Miss Poyntz will do."

The woman snorts, but before she can say anything a loud squeal followed by static sounds over the campgrounds. Nora flinches.

"Testing, testing. Hello?" A crackling, male voice covers the grounds. Nora's head whips back and forth.

"Calm down, Miss Poyntz." Avis said. "It's just the intercom. Apparently, Greybo's got some announcement."

Intercom?

"Great, it's working. Thanks for coming to the campgrounds this year, everyone. We've got a lot, and I mean a lot of fun activities planned for you."

Oh, I'm sure.

Nora's eyes narrow as she takes a sip of the cool drink, ice clinking against the glass.

"For now, I'll read out room assignments. Once I call your name, report to your cabin and get settled in. Your bags will be there waiting for you." There's the sound of papers rustling before Mr. Greybo clears his throat. Nora's body leans forward. "Nora Poyntz, Devington House." More rustling sounds. "That's all. Thank you."

Her mouth falls open, and she whips her gaze to Avis, who's inspecting her stubby nails.

"Excuse me, ma'am,"

"Mm-hmm?"

"Am I the only resident here? Surely I misheard?"

Avis snorts. "You think anyone wants to come to this dump? Have you seen the chair you're sitting in?" The old woman cackles when Nora shoots up from the chair, leaving her glass on the table. "Calm down little miss priss."

Priss? I'm no such thing!

Avis reaches into the bag hanging on the side of her chair, producing a small little box. "Here, take this and go have fun at camp." She tosses it to Nora, who scrambles to catch the object.

"What is it?" Nora examined the box, finding it to have more weight than she'd have thought. There's a black screen on the back, and something that looks much like a lens on the front. Buttons line the top of it, and she presses the one that says on jumping when the little thing makes a sound, the lens extending outward.

"It's called a camera."

Camera? But this looks nothing like the gigantic things I've seen before.

She presses another button and a shuttering sound goes off before the back of the screen fills with a still of the scene that had just been on it.

"Extraordinary. This science is the next level."

"Odd one, aren't ya? Hurry, get on to your cabin Miss Poyntz. I've got matters to attend to that don't include you."

Nora was sure the only matters this Avis had included sitting in her chair fanning herself and drinking lemonade the rest of the day. She had little need for the woman now, though questions about her current predicament still terrorized her thoughts. The matter of the camera now preoccupied her as she walked off the porch.

"It'll be the one to the right of the main hall!"

She made her way to the Devington house, putting thoughts of the camera to the side as she neared the tiny wooden cabin. It was a replica of the one she'd found Avis at, though this one appeared to be in much worse shape than the old woman's. Nora tamed her displeasure as she gathered her skirts so as not to let them catch on the stairs.

"Hello?" Her fist knocked on the door. On the other side came a sound of movement mixed with grumbling. Nora flinched when she heard a crash before the door pulled open, revealing the Mr. Dev she'd been told not to wake on the bus.

"What d'ya want?"

Nora peered around the man, getting a look into the room. Her nose crinkled as a foul stench wrapped around her. Mr. Dev blocked out the rest of the room, shifting in the doorway.

"I believe there's been some mistake, sir. This is my room, you see. Would you kindly vacate the premises?"

Mr. Dev's brows drew together and Nora watched as the wheels turned over in his head, trying to place the words she'd spoken. She rolled her eyes.

Oh joy, this ought to be fun.

"This is my room."

"Then perhaps you should speak with Mr. Greybo on the matter as he's assigned it to me. Now if you'd be so-"

"No."

Nora jerks at the words. "Excuse me?"

"No, I ain't goin anywhere."

Nora scoffed at the words. No one told her no. Her parents never even told her no. What made this man think he was any different?

"I beg your-" the door slammed in her face before she could finish. Her veins bubbled with fury as a ball of heat sparked in her stomach. She places her violin case on the ground before banging her fist on the door. "By the bloody saints, so help me lord Jesus if you don't open this door right now-"

The door swung open as Nora was bringing her fist down once more. She fell against Mr. Dev; a putrid stench of sweat and filth coated her body, and she scrambled back, losing her balance. Her hand shoots out, latching onto whatever she can grab, which is an unsteady piece of cardboard held by Mr. Dev. He releases the items in his hand, sending Nora tumbling backwards to the rotting floor. There's the horrid sound of a tear as her skirts rip, caught on a board. Something wet and slimy falls into her hair, the liquid trickling down her head, traveling across her skin and sending a shudder through her body.

Her hand reaches up, feeling for whatever mess awaits her, but not at all expecting a furry, warm body. A squeal tears itself from her throat and she flings the thing away, crawling across the porch, the awful riiiip filtering the air. Something heavy falls onto her back and she squirms, turning over to find a masculine face much closer to hers than society would ever deem appropriate.

"Get him off!" She screeched. "Remove him!"

"Woah, calm down." Mr. Dev grunted, but it was too late. Nora's hands were flailing around her body in a rabid attempt to free herself from the captor. "He's not real. He's not real!"

The words slammed into her like a sack of bricks. A loud ringing went off in her ears as her arms lowered to her side, chest heaving. The man, which wasn't really a man, was pulled from her body, the face of Mr. Dev replacing him, which was little better.

"What?" Nora asked, pushing wild strands from her face.

"It's a fake."

"A," she swallowed. "A fake?"

Mr. Dev nodded, handing her a rolled-up piece of cloth to which Nora dabbed at her eyes and nose.

Even his tissues smell.

There was the telltale familiar shudder sound as Nora blew her nose and she stiffened, listening to the sickle chuckle of the man before her. Her eyes settled on him, the camera Avis had given her clasped in his hands. He lowered the camera, examining the picture, his chuckle turning into a boisterous laugh.

"The rooms yours, kid." He looks down at Nora, in her disheveled state, cat food on her head, furry toy at her side, cardboard cutouts lying beside her. Her skirts are torn and her eyes are large orbs of adrenaline. "And those ain't no tissues."

Nora's hands tremble as she looks down, letting the rolled up cloth unravel to reveal men's under parents. Men's used underpants. A noise of disgust travels from her mouth and she glowers at Mr. Dev who skitters down the stairs, his laughter trailing behind him.

"This is not the end." She growled, pushing herself up and trying, but failing, to make herself look some semblance of presentable. Her eyes dart to the open doorway. "Clean yourself up first, Nora, then plan this entire camp's untimely demise. Surely your dance with Jack the Ripper has taught you a few useful things." She grumbled, stepping inside and slamming the door behind her.