They even took my brandy.

The phone rang.

Children.  Voices of children.  So like the ones I knew.  But who are they?

I heard Nora, yes.  But she played make-believe.

Jameson came on the line, but I didn’t have the heart to speak with him.  Not from this room.  This Hell.  How could I tell him that I’m dying in this room?

So little light.  So little ink.

Edward knows.  He’s helped to trap me here.  I can get Nora to come to me.  I know it.  She’s stronger than Jameson.

Nora can find me.  I believe in you Nora.

I remain,

Quentin J. Collins II


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