Grace stood at the nursery window, her hands on each of her two children's shoulders. She watched the grounds with a blank face, the events that had just occured swimming in her mind. She couldn't see them, but she knew the intruders were there, leaving her house. Viktor, the woman with while hair, all of them, they'd tried to get them to leave. But she hadn't let them, she wouldn't, she wouldn't let anyone. Ever.
"No one can make us leave this house," she whispered, more to herself than to the children, as she heard the sound of an invisible car starting up. The gate opened, seemingly by itself, then closed again. There was a small piece of wood on it that wasn't there before.
Grace remembered what Mrs Mills had told her. More intruders would come, and they would all try to get them to leave. But she would never leave. Her faith was gone, as was her husband, but she wasn't alone. She still had her children, Nicholas and Anne, and the servants, Mrs Mills, Mr Tottle and Lydia. They weren't even servants anymore - they were more like friends. They had helped her see her situation, as horrific as it was.
The last few days replayed in her head over and over again. The noises, the fear it had put in her. Through it all, her only comfort had been in God, but now she was scared. Grace made a silent oath to herself never to pick up a Bible again. If she was dead, and here, she couldn't be in any kind of Hell, Limbo, Purgatory or Heaven. So if she couldn't trust that part of the Holy Book, what could she trust? What could she believe?
Grace didn't know the answer to her question. She clutched her children tight, as she repeated the one thing she did know - no one could make them leave their house.