The Child Protection officer in in the corner of the room had been chain smoking for the past thirty minutes. Every time a cigarette had burnt its way down to his fingertips, he would tut, mash it in the overflowing ashtray and hack out a cough.

From there, without fail, he would take an agonizingly long sip from his coffee cup and turn the page in his newspaper. At this point, Steve was certain that no-one on the surface of the Earth took as long to read as this man did. Surely he wasn't reading and was instead staring vacantly at the print until something made sense. Other than the rustle of pages and the occasional loud slurp, the only other sound in the room was the clock ticking on the wall. Five chairs had been laid out for the children in the hallway, though only three were sitting in them.

Some ten minutes after they had first been herded in there, Nellie and Luke had taken to sitting on the floor. Luke had reluctantly accepted the tin of crayons that had been thrust at him by the officer, and was sitting cross legged sorting through the colours. Nellie, though sitting next to him, was more occupied with braiding her barbie's hair.

Theodora, situating herself as far away from her brothers and sisters as she was allowed to be, was sitting sideways in her chair with a book in her lap. Much preferring to focus on a world of fiction as opposed to the morbid reality that they had been living for these past weeks.

Shirley on the other hand, was looking down at her lap, occasionally sniffing. At the far end of the room, the officer lit another cigarette. Deciding on something, Steve leant down and lifting his backpack in to his lap. Rummaging through it, he ripped a few pages out of an old notepad and stood from his chair. It creaked. The officer lifted his head, flicking ash.

Meeting his eyes, as always, was a trial and a half. But Steve just smiled hesitantly. "I'm just seeing my brother."
A grunt of affirmation. A newspaper page was turned. And more coffee was slurped.

Sitting down opposite his brother and sister, Steve slid the pages over.

"No use having crayons if you don't have something to draw on, huh, my man?"

Luke looked up, blinking owlishly through his wonky, large glasses. He smiled, and Steve saw the gaps between his front teeth. One was an adult tooth, the other a baby tooth, which meant the difference in size was fairly noticeable.

"Is Daddy done yet?"

Steve glanced behind him at the door their Father had walked through some time ago. The more he stared at it, the more he expected it to suddenly swing open and for his Father to walk through. A smile on his face and a promise to get that McDonald's dinner he had mentioned when they had been on their way there. But it remained shut.

Hands on his knees as he crossed his legs, Steve looked back at the twins. A brave smile, just for them.
"Dad'll be out soon, Luke. I promise." He tapped at the paper with his finger. "Why don't you draw something for him? By the time you've finished he might be done and then we can go home."
There was a small scoff from Theo behind him on the chairs, but Steve ignored her. As time progressed and the older children dealt with what had happened in their own way, Steve was becoming increasingly better at ignoring his first two sisters. It would become a trait he would regret in later life.

Luke plucked a black crayon from the tin. It had been snapped in half by whichever miserable child had been sitting in their place before, but his little hands were still managing to hold it as best he could. For a few seconds the little boy stared down at the blank page his brother had given him and when he did speak he did so quietly.

"Can I draw Mommy? Would Daddy like that?"

At Luke's side, Nellie turned her head and looked at her twin in silent question.

The smile Steve had been forcing was beginning to fade. When it came to it, he was thirteen years old. He would incessantly ask his Dad to treat him like an adult and up until recently Hugh had been doing just that. He let him help when they had been flipping houses, and more often than not when he spoke to him he spoke to him as straight as he would any other adult.

But losing a parent so suddenly would hit any adult hard. Especially when the adult in question was still a little boy. His stomach twisted, and his throat swelled, and when he replied his voice was slightly higher, but he pushed on regardless.

In the time he was taking to compose himself, Luke and Nell had been having a silent conversation with expressions alone. It was something Steve had grown used to by the time they had turned two.
"Yeah, Luke." He nodded, suddenly clearing his throat. "Draw Mom. He'd like that a lot."

When Steve next looked down at his legs, he had dug his nails in to his skin without realising. Little crescent moons were embedded in to his skin from his fingernails. Now that he had noticed them, they were beginning to sting.

The light above the officer's head had begun to flicker. As the electricity struggled to catch, it buzzed angrily. Smoke still furling from his cigarette, the man stared up at the light as if it was a troublesome wasp. Luke had started to outline a stick woman in a dress on his page, drawing out the waves of her hair. Her red crayoned smile was large, stretching from one side of her face to the other. Too wide to be normal.

Steve was beginning to wonder if it would come to a point where he would forget his Mother's face. As abhorrent as it seemed, surely there would be a time when he would wake up one day and forget. Forget what colour her eyes were, or the curve of her face. Even the gentle voice that had told him stories before he went to sleep when he was smaller.

The light buzzed and flickered once again. There was a rustle as the officer carelessly tossed the newspaper aside and stood on his chair to inspect the faulty light more closely.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at the door again. It still wasn't open, but if he strained his ears he could distantly hear his Father's voice talking seriously in a silent room. Opposite him, Luke was beginning to colour in their Mother's hair, and Nellie was making her doll walk across the floor. Clutching on to whatever childhood innocence they had left.

The light the officer was inspecting crackled off, and the hallway in front of him was plunged into darkness. He was waiting to hear Luke squeak in fear. Ever since his brother had had his run in with the dumbwaiter Luke wasn't good with tight spaces and darkness. But no timid noise came.

"Fuckin' thing." Came the irritated mutter from the man charged with watching over them. There was a tapping noise coming from the dark hallway. Steve could only assume that he was trying to reconnect the bulb.

When the light returned, it was blinding. Twenty times brighter than it had been before and Steve had to shield his eyes to stop it hurting.

Nell was standing now. Only she wasn't his little sister. She wasn't the little girl with light in her eyes who would beam up at him and follow him like a loyal puppy. The woman that stood before him was older, her skin was black with mould and rot, and her nightgown was tattered at the edges.

Her neck was broken.

As Steve fell back in shock, she loomed above. Right ear pressed to her shoulder, she could only stare down at him.
"Nellie?" It was strange, how now his voice sounded lighter. Younger. He had only just noticed.

"Crain."
"Nell?"
Speaking through a clenched, wired shut jaw, her words washed over him in deeper tones. The floor beneath him seemed to give way and he felt himself slipping, falling.

"Crain."

A hypnic jerk, Steve once read, was the sensation of suddenly falling you would feel when your brain was caught somewhere between sleep and reality.

Anything could start it. A muscle twitch, a breath, even shifting your head on your pillow. You could be visited by it your entire life. Most are. There is no bottled remedy to make it go away, because there was nothing specifically bad about it. Your body would shock you awake, you would sit up. Perhaps you would laugh about it to whoever was sleeping beside you. Or maybe you would sigh. And then you would drift off peacefully some time later as if nothing had ever happened. The sensation would fade.

The fear you felt as you fell would not.

Tonight, as it happened, was the first hypnic jerk he had felt in some time. When the courthouse floor below him seemed to crumble to nothing, his conscious mind had woken as if it had had a sharp slap to the face.

His nephew's bedroom was not a place that he was used to waking up in. That likely didn't help matters.

At his side, his wife remained lost to the world. Leigh was one of the deepest sleepers he knew. Even the speed in which he had sat up had not disturbed her. She was facing him on her side, hugging a cushion to her chest as always. More often than not, Steve would be in the cushions place. Having Leigh's head in its rightful place on his chest was fine when they had only just settled for the night. But there would always come a point where he would need to turn away. Stretch out to himself. Sleep.

His heart had stopped jittering like a hummingbird on crack now so at least there was that. Easing himself back down to a lying position, a long sigh drifted from his lungs. The dream was already fogging in his mind. Nell was there. Of course she was. When this time of year rolled around she would always be in his thoughts. But when he did dream of his little sister, he would see the girl he had always known her to be. Not the broken spectre the house had turned her into.

With a soft noise, Leigh shifted her head on her pillow and opened her eyes slightly. Steve brushed some of her hair from her face .

"Did I wake you?"

"You were thinking too loudly."

The discontent mutter as she pressed her face back in to her pillow only made him smile. Already she was drifting off again. He leant down and kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you."

"You too." Came the snippet of the sentence that was intelligible. At some point in the next blurred minute, she had tangled her legs with his and settled her head on his chest. Settling his arms around her, he looked around the dark bedroom with his lips pressed against her hairline.

"Do you think the kids are okay down there?" She asked, slightly more awake now than she had been before.

"Course. Luke is down there with them."

"Luke snores as badly as you do."

A pause as his brain caught up with him. He looked down, and she was half smiling back at him, and god he loved her.

"I do not snore."

"Yes you do."

"Since when?"

"Since we were 20."

Eyes narrowing a little, Steve rested his head back on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. "Lies." He muttered.

"You do snore. It's sound like Chewbacca when he's depressed."

He pressed one of his fingers on the spot at her side he knew was ticklish and she squeaked against his chest, hitting his arm.

"I was comfy!"

In a perfect world, when he kissed her in that moment the rest of their night would have gone just as smoothly. But this was Steve's life, after all, and nothing was ever sacred. The loud crash from downstairs was enough to make him sit up again. Any thoughts of sleep were gone now.

Sobbing. A particular sobbing that he recognised as it was the noise he would listen out for fretfully at night when he was a new father. Now, just like then, he was out of bed in record time. The bedroom door was open and he was half-way down the staircase before Leigh had even got out of bed.

Luke was wide awake. He was out of his sleeping bag. Even in the darkness Steve could see the whites of his eyes. He looked up at him in stunned silence. On the sofa, his son was frozen, staring down the hallway with one hand fisted in the blanket around him.

Between the kitchen and the living room, his daughter was slumped against the wall. Crying in laboured, exhausted breaths. Steve's feet had carried him over in seconds, his hands on his shoulders.

"Nora? Nora what is it?"

To say that she was hysterical would have been an understatement. Nora was leaning away from him as if he was anyone else but her Father. Though she was speaking, he couldn't make out all of her words. The sobs got in the way of anything else. He pressed his hands to the side of her face, soaked with hot tears.

"Nora. Nora breathe."

"Blood! There was blood on the wall downstairs!"

"What?" Steve felt his brows pinch. "What were you doing downstairs?"

"I th-thought I heard Auntie Shirl. The lights were on."

Still on his knees, Steve looked up at her with a small shake of his head, Though before he could speak Leigh had rushed over, dressing gown billowing behind her. Unlike Steve she remained standing, smoothing her eldest's hair back. In a quick movement, Nora had suddenly latched on to both of her parents.

"There's someone down there. There has to be. Someone wrote Crain on the wall. Someone has to have done it, Dad, the lights were on." Momentarily, she was silenced by Leigh stroking her hair and holding her to her. A mother's touch, as always, was enough to soothe even the wildest fears.

His eyes fell on the staircase that lead down to the mortuary.

For the first time in a good few years, Nora Crain found herself sitting on her father's lap with tears in her eyes.

Sometime after her parents had run to her side, Shirley had woke from all the noise. What followed was furious string of words between her and a rather numb Steve. Getting to the point where Luke and Theo had to stand between the two of them.

But now, all was relatively quiet. Leigh was sitting on the sofa, letting her son lie with his head in her lap as he drifted to and from a restless sleep. Steve had slumped down in to the same arm chair he had claimed when they arrived earlier. And with a hesitant sense of dependence, Nora had clambered on to his lap. Right now, she didn't care about the fact that they had argued, and by the arms that were wrapped around her, Steve didn't either.

His chin had come to rest on top of her head, and she was staring at the line of stitches on the shoulder of his pyjama shirt. He was pushing the chair back ever so slightly with his legs and the rocking motion was the most soothing thing she had felt for the past half hour.

Luke was walking back and forth from the fireplace to the coffee table. If Nora had known to count she would have noticed that they were seven steps each time. His eyes were vacant, and his hands were shoved in to the pockets of his joggers.

"Dad?" As always after crying, her throat was sore and her nose was running. Steve just hummed in response, and it rumbled through his chest to her ear.

"I'm not lying." She saw her mother look up and meet her husband's eyes, though no words were said between them. She moved her face, looking up slightly. "I'm not. You do believe me, don't you? Dad?"

"Don't rile yourself up, sweetheart." Was his only response.

With a creak of a stair, Kevin was in the hallway again. Shirley soon followed, face still slightly red from shock and frustration. Nora stared at them from her spot, and it appeared that Steve was doing the same. All it took was a shake of Kevin's head for some air leave Steve's lungs in a sigh.

"Nothing?" Luke asked, finally stopping his pacing. Shirley wrapped her dressing gown tighter around her pyjamas.

"The lights were on and the door to the mortuary was wide open. No writing."

Nora sat up immediately, ignoring Steve trying to coax her back down.

"I saw it. It said Crain. The words said Crain."

Leigh shook her head imploringly at her daughter, but Nora didn't listen. She stood up, hands still shaking at her sides. At her slightly raised voice, her brother woke up again, and his head lifted from Leigh's lap.

"I wouldn't lie about this." Her eyes met with each one of her Aunt's and Uncle's in turn. Silently daring them to tell her otherwise. She felt her father stand up behind her, ease an arm around her shoulders and attempt to guide her back down in to a seat. She was having none of it.

"I only went to get some water! The tree lights were on when I came back and the lights downstairs. I'm telling you! Someone wrote Crain on the walls."
"Nora." Shirley held her hands out in front of her, speaking in the slightly patronising way that always got on Nora's nerves slightly. "Kevin and I went down there. There was nothing on the walls." Her hands dropped to her sides again. She was clearly holding her tongue.
"And for a start young lady you shouldn't be going down there anyway. What I do down there privately concerns the family of our clients. You shouldn't be rooting around."

"Jesus, Shirl." It was the first thing Steve had said for the past few minutes. Yet as soon as he had uttered the words Nora watched as Luke shut his eyes in dread and tilted his head up to the high heavens. Shirley looked as if she was about to question Steve, but found herself cut short by Luke.
"It's four in the morning. Everyone's tense, especially Nora. The last thing any of us need is you two going at one another again. I thought you'd have both learnt from last time."

Nora felt herself frown. Her father and her Aunt Shirley had always had a somewhat turbulent relationship at the best of times. When she had asked, Leigh had told her that it was simply because they were both strong and outspoken people. Birds of a feather clash more times than most realise. Over the years, all of their arguments blurred into one for Nora. Yet none stuck out enough in her mind as worthy enough to be simply referred to as 'last time'.

While she had been lost in her head, the room around her had crashed in to an uneasy and unwelcome silence. Her Aunt Theo had been so quiet during this time that Nora had forgotten she was there. Her arms were folded and her eyes were downcast.

"It's pretty obvious what this is." She said finally, and Nora felt her Father's arms tighten around her. Absently, she turned to look up at him. Steve was staring across at his sister with a slow shake of his head.
"Dad what's-"
"She just drinks too many energy drinks." He said with a quick shake of his head. "That's all it is. She's got too much buzzing around in there and she dreamt something up. You heard Shirl, there's nothing down there."
Leigh had sat up on the sofa by then, gently moving her son off her lap so she could stand. Theo was biting the skin around her thumb, staring at her niece with an almost sad look in her eye.

Theodora started to walk over to her, and to Nora's sudden horror she felt her Father pull her away by the wrist. Though his grip on her was barely there, the shock of the sudden movement had taken the air from her lungs.
"Theo," Shirley began, though she didn't take a step towards her sister. Nora was certain she had never heard her Aunt Shirley speaking so softly, with such a sad, dreading look in her eyes.

Theo sniffed. "What? It'll answer the question won't it? If it is what Steve, once again, is denying to even be possible-"
"Don't you bring me in to this, Theo, she's my damn daughter-"
"I haven't felt anything for years." Theo cut her elder brother off before Steve's voice could even rise. "So if something did happen down there, I should know." Two pairs of dark, Crain eyes held one another's gaze. Steve didn't breathe and word and neither did Theo, until she turned and looked at her sister.
"Right Shirl? I'm right, aren't I?"

Shirley suddenly couldn't meet her eye. But she still nodded and fixed her gaze on the Christmas tree in the corner. On the other side of the room, Luke was staring out in to the night with his forehead pressed against the glass. At his side, one finger was tapping out a beat of seven against his leg. Still leaning in to her father, Nora watched as her aunt gently placed her hand on top of hers.

That was all. Nora was struggling to see why the rest of her family were treating it as if Theo was suggesting to do open heart surgery without anaesthetic. She had been about to voice her question when she noticed how her Aunt's facial expression had changed. Theo's eyebrows had met in the middle, her face the picture of pain. But it wasn't the sort of pain you would scream and writhe from. What Nora saw in her Aunt's eyes was a pain that ebbed from your very core. Theo's hand was gone just as quickly as she had reached out with it and she had soon retreated back to her corner of the wall, holding her hand against her chest as if she had sprained it.

There was a silence in the living room. Nora didn't take her eyes off her Aunt, and her Mother didn't take her eyes off her husband. In the corner, Luke had turned his head ever so slightly from the window, glancing at his siblings reluctantly. It was her brother, still too young to understand what all the fuss was, who broke it.

"Dad?" Hugh was fiddling with the sleeve of his pyjama shirt as he spoke, looking to their Father, as always, for an explanation. When Theodora nodded her head ever so slightly, Nora heard a shaky breath leave Steve's lips. She moved away from him, looking from her Aunt to her Father. Steve was staring at the floor, jaw clenched and his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

She heard Luke swear under his breath, saw Shirley lift her hand to her mouth in her peripheral vision. Hugh stood, crossing the room to stand next to his sister, closer to Steve.

"Dad?"