TAKEN TO THE GRAVE, original.

I ― from the east end of london.

28 January 1888

Upon the bland shining rays of sunlight, Nicola blinked a few times before fully exposing the melancholic greyish-blue of her dull gaze. Questioning herself once again of why was she doing all of this instead of surrendering herself to starvation, the fifth Penderghast bent her body and got up at ten past five, as always.

And there was her, the so-called "perfect daughter" ― the younger sister Marion was there, barefoot whilst in her nightgown and dancing to an unheard song as she always did to cheer herself early in the morning. Oh, how Nicola wished to grab that little rascal by the neck! ― who seemed so unnaturally happy that she could even make Nicola frown in disgust every single day. Well, perhaps her happiness came from the fact that she wasn't the one sweeping the awfully dirty chimneys of the enormous Grey family's villa ― working as a lady-in-waiting, Marion was adored by the Greys' daughter, Phillipa. Unlike many chimney sweepers of 19th century-England, Nicola was a girl, was not purchased by anyone, was already a prepubescent child, lived with her parents and received some sort of wage ― which wouldn't have happened if she took in the job before the death of a boy named George Brewster, caused after he got stuck while cleaning a chimney, even before Nicola herself was born.

― Nicola! Good morning, do you want to play with me? − Marion asked.

― No, Marion, I do not. − Nicola had conserved a bitter tone in her voice − We have to work, remember?

― Only a little, Nica! ― Little Marion begged, having her shiny eyes fixed on the elder child's hollow stare.

― I said "no"! − Nicola went downstairs as the steps creaked in somewhat an angst, wooden whisper − What part of the word "no" you cannot fathom, you little moron?!

― Nicola, do not use such harsh words towards your own sister! − Albert Sr., the father, stood silently behind the juvenile figure of the fifth child.

― I'm sorry, papa. − The aforementioned nodded in agreement.

― As you should. − The patriarch answered.

― Nica, will you play with me now that papa scolded you? − Marion giggled.

― No. − Nicola was as irritated as always.

Then, the Penderghast ignored her little sister's request without hesitating: she went downstairs as to get ready for the day. As she helped her mum Eunice lighting the firewood on the stove, Marion hopped to the kitchen.

― Mummy! − Marion called.

― Yes, dear? − The mother answered while feeling the fiery warmth that she so hardly longed for.

― Uhm... Nicola did yell at me. But she did not apologize. ― The littlest tattled, holding her laughter back.

― Nicola, you did not apologize? − Eunice asked.

― I did, mama! − Nicola answered, wanting to cry due to sheer anger − I did apologize!

― To papa, not to me. − Marion bit her lower lip, struggling not to laugh.

― Nicola, apologize now! You do not want to see me angry, do you? − Eunice asked.

― I'm sorry, Marion. − Nicola apologized as she was told.

― Ok. − Marion accepted the apologies.

― Now give your sister a hug, Nicola. − The mother saw two of her children embrace − Yes, lovely.

A moment later, footsteps seemed to fill in the silence in the room.

― Good morning, mama. − Nicola's identical older twin, Gisela, entered the tiny kitchen − Nica, Etta, good morning − she had an abnormally casual speech that day − Shall we go to the Grey household now?