Dearest Mr. and Mrs. Kelly,

     We find great displeasure in informing you that your second eldest descendant—Veronica Kelly—and son-in-law—Charlie Mathews—have been shot as a result of attempted murder. Both have passed as a result of their injuries.
     To an even greater displeasure, Veronica Kelly and Charlie Mathews died at the hands of your eldest daughter Velma Mathews née Kelly. It is unknown what the cause of such an action might be, but we have been brought to the responsibility to reveal the weight of this truth to you. Velma Mathews is being held in the Cook County Jail until her trial; date to be announced.

Hereby signed,
Cook County Jail
Chicago, Illinois

Katherine awoke with a start, every word from the letter stuck in her brain. She sat up, running a hand through her hair and bringing her eyes around the eerie darkness of the bedroom. Jack slept quietly to her side, his silhouette a reassuring sight to her. Tossing her feet over the side of the bed, she left down the hallway and to the room Velma and Veronica shared. The two young girls slept soundly, bringing a smile to Katherine's lips. The letter was false; an idea conjured from her unconscious mind.

She was determined to keep her children from a fate like the one issued in her dream. It was her job as well as Jack's to protect them from that destiny. They were parents, and all they wanted was the best for their children.

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"You'll be going to Grandmother and Grandfather's today," Katherine told her children, guiding them through the streets of New York. Typically, she'd never bring her children out into the streets alone, but she really didn't have a choice. Her body seemed to be against her today, resulting in cramps in her lower abdomen and a soreness in her spine.

After quick consultation, Joseph and Katherine "Kate" Pulitzer insisted she let the children spend the day at the Pulitzer townhouse in Upper East Side. Katherine was eternally grateful, needing at least one day to have silence and write. Yet she knew this would be a challenge with the cramps in her gut.

Katherine held her children tightly in a huddle in front of her, guiding them through the streets and out of harm's way. That attempt was useless, however, when four loud blasts rang through the air. Men and women in the streets scattered, screaming and yelling in fear as well as startling those who didn't understand what was taking place, yet Katherine found herself holding tightly onto her children and out of the way of people pushing in the opposite direction.

As the crowd began to clear, Katherine caught a glimpse of a middle-class woman holding a gun out in front of her with a shaking hand. Laying on the sooty ground in front of her was a bloody, motionless body that belonged to a man. Katherine was utterly traumatized, staring at the sight before her before realizing her children, too, were observing the scene.

Katherine blinked, and she found that the streets were continuing like normal.

She hastily turned her children in the opposite direction, her fingers trembling as she hurriedly rushed out of the street, desperate to escape the hallucination she was finding herself in. Katherine attempted to calm herself, knowing stress wasn't good for herself or her unborn child. Yet she couldn't control her shaking breaths and trembling hands as she turned down another block, taking a longer route to the Pulitzer Townhouse.

An eternity seemed to pass before they finally reached the luxurious five-story home, every room adorned with curtains and decor that matched what Katherine was raised with. Despite the fact Katherine never lived in this townhouse due to the fact it was only built five years previous in 1903, it still held a welcoming aura that soothed her nerves to a slight degree.

The children scattered, and Katherine sat her shaking, fragile body on one of the settees in the third floor parlor. Kate Pulitzer caught sight of her daughter's expression, seating herself across from Katherine and placing a cup of lemon balm tee in front of the young mother. "Something on your mind, Katherine?"

Katherine shook herself out of her thoughts at the sound of her mother's voice. Kate Davis Pulitzer was a middle-aged woman that held herself confidently in her voluptuous body. Despite having birthed eight children, the woman managed to conceal that appearance in a tightly-woven corset. Katherine knew her mother couldn't care less for new trends due to the fact the girdle was now coming into fashion for women. Truthfully, Katherine didn't care much for these trends either, which was something she inherited from her mother, including the curly, light brown locks that framed each side of Kate's face. The only difference between Katherine's hair and her mother's hair was the older woman's hair had begun to gray, yet she successfully concealed it with wide-brimmed Nordstrom hats.

"Is there ever a time where nothing is?" Katherine responded, holding the cup in her hand but not daring to bring it to her lips.

Kate chuckled lightly yet comfortingly in an attempt to soothe her youngest child, "Katherine, dear. I raised eight children; I'm sure I can help you with any concerns you have with either the adolescents or the child you've conceived. That is... if that is what's on your mind."

Katherine blinked at her mother, chewing the inside of her cheek before bringing her eyes down to the cup of warm tea. She took a slow sip, setting it down on the table between her and her mother. "It's this dream I had... four nights ago. In the dream, I received a letter from someplace called the Cook County Jail in Chicago. In the letter, it was revealed that Veronica... died at Velma's hands."

"I see where your apprehensiveness is coming from. But Katherine, this was a simply a source of imagination your mind is portraying for you. This doesn't mean it's true."

"That's not where the story ends, Mother," Katherine sighed, bringing her sight back up to meet her mother's brown eyes. "As we were coming over to the house... I imagined that t-there was a murder. And it strangely felt so casual... as if it wasn't anything to worry over. That's what has terrified me, Mother... I don't want this dream to become a reality."