"It's evident that as your family's sole beneficiary, you have become a quite rich woman." Said the lawyer.

Susan looked down at the table where her family's wills were spread out. Her parents' wills had been drawn up years and years ago, and they had not expected to need them for years and years more. Peter had drawn up his when he was eighteen and thought he might go to war. Thankfully their parents had responded with a resounding no. Edmund had been rather young when he drew his up, not long after returning from their second Narnia adventure. She still remembered him telling her in a deadpan tone that they all died eventually so you might as well get your affairs in order now. Lucy didn't even have a will.

She'd inherited quite a lot; everything her family had that wasn't going outside the family was going to her. She was rich. What did it matter anymore?

She wasn't even sure what all her family had left behind. Each had had a list of possessions, then beyond that each had their own secrets. Then there were the family's personal effects recovered from the scene of the crash. Her parents' wedding rings. Peter's wallet, neatly stuffed with money and ration coupons. Her mother's handbag. Edmund's wallet, with random scraps of paper sticking out the edges. A necklace with a small silver lion pendant that had belonged to Lucy, as well as the small hat that she was still holding.

"I believe that's everything I needed to go over with you." Said the lawyer. "You're free to go now."

Susan nodded and carefully gathered up her family's things, clutching Lucy's necklace in her fist.

Home was hollow and dark in the fading light. It was impossible to think it had been bright and warm just a few hours ago.

Susan caught sight of herself in a mirror and gasped. She'd lost her hat somewhere along the way. Her face was coated in grime except for where shining tear tracks cut through. Her skirt was torn and bloodstained, long runs traversed her stockings, and her shoes were scuffed and scratched. She kicked off the shoes and wandered, trance-like, into the house. With slow, methodical movements she unbuttoned her sweat-soaked jacket and placed it on the kitchen table along with most of her family's things.

She couldn't look away. Two wallets. Two rings. A handbag. A dirty hat. A tiny necklace. They should go where they belonged. But she shivered as she looked toward the stairs and the closed doors to the bedrooms. So she left them in a neat pile on the table and sat down. A small sound from the entryway caught her ear. She looked up and saw Catherine standing there.

"Go away, Catherine."

"I don't want to leave you."

"Please, Catherine. I need to be alone right now."

"Alright. Please, Susan call me if you need anything."

As the door closed behind Catherine, Susan stood up and took off her skirt. The practical part of her brain said to wash it, that maybe the stains would come out, that the tears could be mended. Another part of her brain—perhaps the latent gentle queen—told her to leave it. Edmund's head had lain on this skirt. It was her last physical contact with her family. She took it and pressed it into her nose, hoping to catch a familiar scent, but was met only with the sharp odor of blood. She set the skirt on the table and turned to her ruined stockings. She grabbed a loose thread and pulled and pulled until they were little more than a pile of thread. What did nice stockings matter now?

As Susan sat down again her breath caught sharp in her chest. The tears came as the horrible realization sank in again. She was alone. Lucy and Peter and Edmund and all the others were dead. Her eyes glided up to a picture on the wall. Her graduation photo. Her seventeen-year-old face, slathered in red lipstick. She'd been so naive, wanting to live alone, away from her family. She'd been so, so stupid. She screamed, then hurled one of her shoes at the photo. The glass shattered and the frame fell to the ground. She flopped on the floor next to it and continued to sob, until her head pounded and her eyes were sore. When she finally came up for air, it was even darker outside. She laid her head back down and closed her eyes, and before she knew it she was asleep.