When Millie awoke, she was shoved into the corner of her dorm room, bundled in the blanket pulled from her bed. The dull rising light did little to soothe her nerves; the calm silence of the early morning felt discordant with what she now knew. She unwound herself, taking in the chaos that surrounded her. Her clothes and books were strewn about the room. Some had been half-stuffed into her satchel, and the rest tossed aside. The chair from her writing desk had been pushed to the door, braced under the handle to keep it from being opened.

Last night, when she had returned from her nighttime excursion, she had been deep in panic. She had proceeded to tear the room apart, haphazardly packing for an imminent escape.

After finding the stack of her letters in the office—ones she had written and thought had been sent out—she knew she could no longer stay at Wickford.

Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

Thinking back on it, the lack of response from her parents and sister now made sense. How could they respond to letters they never got?

If they weren't sending her letters...

Then how had she received that letter from her sister?

That very letter was still lying unfolded on the writing table, left there from last night when Millie had tried to examine it in the weak moonlight. Millie went to it again and picked it up to inspect it. From what she could tell, it looked genuine. The writing was just as she remembered her sister's, though it wasn't as though she had anything to compare it.

Was it really from her sister?

Or was it some kind of expert copy?

Millie turned the letter over, searching for any sign of fakery. She may not be able to tell if it was real, but she also couldn't fathom why anyone would go through the effort of faking a letter from her sister.

All she knew was that she could no longer trust anything at Wickford.

She needed to get out of this damned place.

She had abandoned her escape last night, knowing it was too risky to travel to the village by herself, in the dark and the cold. First, she to come up with a better plan—

A high-pitched scream shattered the quiet.

A flock of birds to scattered into the sky, just outside her window. Millie dropped the letter, and leaned across the desk, looking out to see what was the matter. The scream had come from the garden below. The frost and grime that clung to the glass made it hard to see, but Miller could make out a servant girl on the gravel garden path. She had fallen back and was crawling away from something, a strange, mangled mass that Millie couldn't quite make sense of.

The servant, a girl about her sister's age, screamed again as she scrambled up from the gravel and fled back towards the house.

"She's dead!" she cried as she disappeared from view.

Dead?

Something cold and slithering worked its way through Millie's insides. She shoved the desk aside and pressed her face to the glass, trying to see more. When she did, her hand flew to her mouth with a gasp.

The strange mass below was actually a tangle of broken limbs bent in unnatural ways. The tangled hair and clothing were edged with frost. Though she couldn't see a face, Millie knew it had to be Miss Brodie.

Judging by the frost, she had been out there for hours—since last night.

Last night, when Millie was roaming the school alone.

Last night, when someone had been following her.

Had whoever been out last night done this?

Millie's gut gave another icy twist.

The nuns were outside now. They surrounded the body, forming a wall to keep it from view. The Mother was at their side, giving orders, as the Archdeacon looked on, his face solemn. He beckoned to some of the servants to come and help—the groundskeeper and Matthew. As the nuns stepped aside to let them through, Matthew looked up, towards the windows of the house, as though he could feel Millie watching him.

Millie took a step back, returning to the shadows of her room.

The other students woke up to orders to get dressed and stay in their rooms until they were called. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, Millie did as she was told. She tidied her room as she waited, using the stretch of time to formulate an escape plan. She wished she had a way to contact her parents without going through the nuns. Her family weren't yet 'on the phone', and there was no way to get a telegraph to them without going to the village. And to get to the village, she'd have to walk miles in the bitter cold, in a direction she wasn't quite sure of...

Finally, a call rang out for them to assemble in the hall. Millie and the rest of the girls left their rooms, where they were then herded downstairs. A small army of nuns and teachers led them towards the Drawing Room, keeping a close eye on them as if to ensure none of them could slip away. Millie watched them right back, but let herself be taken with the flow of students.

In the Drawing Room, the staff were already there, waiting for them. Once again, the Mother Superior, Sister Marion, and the Archdeacon were at the front of the altar with matching grim expressions.

Whispers echoed through the crowd as the rest of the girls settled into their seats. Millie took her seat amongst the rows, glancing around to study the faces of everyone, searching for signs of suspicion. Anyone here could be a suspect. She spotted Matthew at the side of the room. Again, as if he could feel her stare, he looked up again, and their eyes met... But he quickly looked away, almost as if he was wary of her now, too.

In the row ahead of Millie, a sleepy-eyed girl who looked as though she'd just woken up, elbowed her friend.

"What do you think this is all about?" she muttered, punctuating her question with a yawn.

"Didn't you hear?" her friend replied with a click of her tongue. "Sometime last night, Miss Brodie fell from the roof."

The roof? Millie wondered. She listened closer.

That news seemed to wake the other girl up. "Fell? What on Earth was she doing on the roof in the middle of the night?"

Her friend just shook her head as if she didn't know—or didn't want to say.

A girl from the next row turned to them, her face serious. "She didn't fall. I heard she jumped."

"Jumped?" echoed the tired girl, like she couldn't believe it. "Why?"

The girl in the next row stared at her. "Word is she got a letter..."

"What kind of letter?" the tired girl asked.

Her friend next to her clucked her tongue. "You know."

"Oh," was all the girl said. "Oh."

Millie frowned but kept to herself. They all knew what those letters meant. It was word that someone they loved was lost in action—either in the bombings or at the front. Many students and teachers had been pulled away from Wickford after receiving such news.

Even so, she didn't believe it.

That couldn't be what happened to Miss Brodie.

It all seemed a little too simple, a little too tidy...

Was this another lie?

The Mother Superior stepped forward, and a hush fell over the girls, and everyone turned forward.

"Good morning," the Mother said, though her tone sombre made it sound like it was anything but. "Before we begin, let us take a moment of silent prayer."

She dropped her head to her chest. Everyone else did, too—except Millie. She stared straight ahead, her hands tightening into fists on her lap. As the prayer finished, the Mother raised her head again. She looked wane, defeated.

"I'm sorry to inform you," she began again, "but we have some unfortunate news. Our newest teacher, Miss Brodie, passed away last night"

All around Millie, whispers erupted again, louder than ever. Behind the Mother, Sister Marion stood up in warning. Almost immediately, the crowd quieted down.

"Now, I know this hard to come to terms with, especially as we've just recently lost a student as well. But I don't want you all to worry. We have no reason to believe this was anything but an accident—"

Accident?

Unable to contain herself, Millie let out a loud scoff.

The Mother heard it. She looked in Millie's direction and narrowed her eyes, but kept going.

"—but all the same, we will be having the authorities come by Wickford to investigate. It's nothing but procedure, I assure you, but again, there's no reason for you to worry. This was all a tragic accident."

Millie couldn't take it anymore.

She shot up from her seat. Everyone—the students, the teachers, the staff—turned to look at her. The girls around her went wide-eyed and shrank back as if they were on guard. 

Did they still suspect her?

It wasn't her they should be worried about.

"What about Petra?" Millie demanded, her voice echoing across the room.

The Mother Superior looked taken aback. "E-Excuse me?"

Behind her, Sister Marion did not look surprised by Millie's outburst.

"Miss Cunningham, sit down this instant!" she commanded.

Millie ignored her. "You said Petra's death was an accident too! But now another person is dead, another accident. How can that be?"

The Mother Superior's face began to redden. "That was an accident—"

"Mildred, you can take your seat or I will make you!" Sister Marion warned.

Mildred wasn't cowed. She wasn't afraid of the old bat.

"Is it even safe for us to stay here?" Millie demanded. "After two people have died?"

Once again, whispers began to spread through the crowd...

Millie felt a surge of confidence. Her first idea had been to escape, but she had a different plan now. Maybe they thought they could suppress her, but they couldn't stop all of them.

"Do our parents know what is happening at this school? Have you told them? I don't think they'd be too thrilled to hear what's happening here, under your supervision. Maybe we should be sent home until you can figure out what really happened—"

That was the final straw. Sister Marion left the Mother's side and advanced on Millie. She reached across the rows of girls and grabbed Millie by the arm, dragging her out of the crowd and marching her out of the room. She was so fast and strong that Millie barely had a chance to fight back. All she could do as she was pushed out the door was look back. From the other side of the room, she spotted Matthew watching, his face tense with concern, though her view was cut off by the door slamming shut behind them.

A few steps further into the hall, Sister Marion shoved Millie into a wall.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sister Marion snapped, scowling at her. "Are you trying to induce hysteria?"

Millie scowled right back. "I'm just asking questions."

"Questions that are not for you to ask!" Sister Marion shouted. She paused, regaining her control. When she spoke again, her voice was much more even, though it made her sound even more dangerous. "I understand you have your concerns, but this is for us to handle."

"But what about our safety? People have died! If we're in danger, we deserve to know—"

"Don't worry, Miss Cunningham." Sister Marion sneered. "This poses no danger to you."

Then she shoved her down the hall, towards the office.

Apologies for the delay in the chapters this week. It's been hectic! We'll resume the regular schedule next week.