There was a black dress collecting dust in the back of Samantha's closet. It wasn't anything special, just a plain black dress with long sleeves, an a-line hem and no pockets. When they bought it at eighteen for their brother's funeral (the first funeral either of the Ansons had ever been it), Samantha definitely didn't plan on wearing it again.

She had no clue that eleven and a half years later, she would be standing in the same dress, (now a little bit tighter), in the same cemetery, staring at the grave of another kid whose life was ruined by a cult.

Somehow it hurt more this time, or maybe Samantha just forgot how shitty grief is. They were supposed to get it right this time, to make sure that not everyone that tries to get a better life needs to end up lifeless.

Emilia said that it wasn't her fault, but Emilia blamed herself even more than Samantha did, so she wasn't exactly a reliable source. Emilia watched as the twelve-year-old girl she took an oath to protect was lowered into a grave, just a few feet away from Jason's. She bought the headstone. Lucie David was supposed to be a person, not just an inscription on a granite headstone. Emilia had failed her.

Roxie and Nathan Blackwood were at the funeral. They wanted to pay their respects, as some of the last people to see Tamara Lincoln alive. Emilia smiled and thanked them. Samantha cried over how unfair it was that those good people who just had the misfortune of being born to cult members had to die.