Talen Gawaine

Havermouth, Present Time

After arranging for the real estate to come to take photos of the house, Aislen hired a skip bin, and began sorting through the possessions within the master bedroom. Rip the bandage off where it hurt the most, she told herself grimly as she opened the closet. She tossed clothing that was suitable for charity onto the bed, and those that were too stained, torn or worn into a pile on the floor.

When she encountered a flannelette shirt that had been one of her father's favorite and had seemed to feature in every photo of him for the decade of her teen years, she sat on the edge of the bed clutching it to her and wept. It still smelled like him, she thought. She put it into a ziplock bag from the kitchen and stuffed it into the suitcase. Stupid, she told herself as she wiped her eyes. Stupid, sentimentality, for a man who valued what little reputation he had held in the town over his teenaged daughter.

Her mother had stripped the house of all her valuables when