To escape the dangers of wartime London, Millie has been sent away to Wickford Hall, but what lurks there is far more sinister than anything war might bring.
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THERE'S SOMETHING WICKED STALKING WICKFORD HALL...
As war rages on, Mildred Cunningham...
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Trigger Warning: suicidal ideation
The vast, frozen landscape of Wickford stretched out from the window, wreathed in fog and frost. Millie sat at her writing desk, staring dead-eyed into the grey abyss.
It had been weeks since Petra had left this world, and Millie was lost. She still struggled to believe it had even happened. But the bare, empty bed on the other side of the room was proof enough that her friend was gone.
And that she was alone... again.
There was a blank sheet of paper on the desk in front of her. It was supposed to be a letter, but Millie was having difficulty thinking of what to write. She didn't know how to muster the right words that might convince someone to come and save her from this hell. She had been unsuccessful so far.
After a moment, Millie sighed and picked up the pen.
Olivia, she began.
Things are so much worse. I can't be here anymore. Please help me. I need to come home, or I will...
The pen began to tremble in her hand as she tried to finish the sentence. She wrote a 'k', then an 'i' and an 'l' but stopped there. Her tremors became too much to continue, and ink pooled against the paper.
She shook her head and then scratched the last word out and continued on.
...I will go mad, I'm sure of it.
Mom and Dad aren't answering my letters. I know they must think I am just being a petulant child, that this is all just dramatics, but I'm serious. I can't stay here another moment. I need to come home. Please help me convince them. I'm begging you. Please. Please.
Please.
Millie
It was short, but Millie hoped it would be enough. She folded the paper up and stuffed it into an envelope already addressed to Olivia Cunningham at St Thomas. Next to it was another envelope, already sealed, addressed to Mr and Mrs Cunningham.
Once finished, Millie scooped up both letters and exited the room.
The path to the office was no different, but Millie's heart began to race as she stepped into the hall. It was the stairs that haunted her. Every day she was forced to walk up and down them, and every day she saw them splattered with Petra's blood all over again.
As she reached the landing, she paused. Below, a group of girls had gathered at the foot of the stairs, standing close and whispering together. Millie began her descent, and their heads all turned at once to look up at her. For a moment, they stared at her, silent, before they exchanged worried looks and scattered, each of them headed in a different direction.
Millie fought the stinging in her eyes. The other girls had avoided her before, but it was so much worse now. Now the other students treated her like she was dangerous rather than just repellant—as if she was somehow to blame for Petra's death.
