Gone

Southampton

April 9, 1912

Meg

Meg’s dreams had morphed into nightmares, as if her unconscious mind wanted her to remember the events of the day before. She dreamt of her mother standing in the doorway screaming at her, saying she’d ruined everything, of the awful things her uncle had said, and finally of sinking in ice cold water, spindle fingers grasping at her ankle. When she awoke, the sun was already up, and Kelly was sitting on the edge of her bed, a worried expression on her face.

“What time is it?” Meg asked, her eyes not yet focused.

“Nearly nine,” Kelly said, a bit of relief washing over her countenance. “I tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t budge.”

Meg yawned, but stretching hurt too much, and she didn’t want Kelly to see her wince, so she sat up carefully. There was no reason for Kelly to know what had happened, not yet anyway, and since she was already feeling much bett