The Manor looks different here, barely any light, empty. I walk around, there aren’t any traces of my family in here at all. None of our portraits, none of our antiques, the rugs I wasn’t allowed to walk on are all gone. The place is bleak, grey. The walls shimmer like I’m looking at them through water, like reflection in a puddle or a pool. I eventually come to that door, the door I see every night leading into that room, where she was and I was. The door is crystal clear, defined. The doorknob is just as brassy, with little scratches in-between the ornate carvings, I hold my hand right above it, feeling uneasy. I don’t want to go in and see her screaming again, we’ve been doing so well I-