Prudence was shocked at how she could recognize the house's style. It has obviously been heavily rebuilt, but it was clear they kept as much of the original as they could. The outside was painted white, with a dark roof, a tall metal fence around a medium sized yard with a bench under an apple tree in it.

When they came inside, Prudence saw a long hallway with stairs leading up to the second floor, her now bare feet comfortable on the plush red carpet. Charlotte led her through a side entryway. That area was divided into two parts, both with cream walls. One had a balcony and very large windows taking up the largest wall. Every piece of strange furniture was light. Apart from a large black rectangle above the fireplace.

"Living room, where we sit around." She then swiveled Prudence around and led her to the other side of the room. "Kitchen, where we eat. Aka, stuff ya're not using until ya know how. Food's in those cupboards, and here. Fridge keeps it cold. There's blood in there too." She opened a large green cupboard Prudence noted was called a fridge. She didn't try and touch anything. She could learn about them when Charlotte wasn't running around and could help.

“I have to go to work now, but you won’t be alone.” Charlotte walked back to the stairs and screamed. “Milo, get your ass down here now! Letter business!”

After several loud thumps and a few hushed "I'm coming," a tall, scrawny man came down the stairs. He had messy brown hair, a square jaw and small blue eyes hidden behind large eyeglasses with very thin frames. When he saw Prudence, he quickly wiped his hands off his long gray sweater, smoothed out his hair and offered a handshake. "Oh, you're awake. Milo Davenport, nice to meet you."

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ya’re on babysitting duty. Lose her, ya die.” Charlotte interrupted them.

“Yes, ma’am.” Milo did a salute.

“Don’t be a snarky jerk.” Charlotte punched Milo in the arm and left. As the door closed, Milo turned to Prudence, extending the handshake again.

Prudence was frozen. Milo's face didn't look right. She found herself mentally adding some gray in his hair. Then a resigned exasperation with the world to his expression. Finally, she turned his eyes brown. She noticed his expression changed from politeness to confusion and to nervousness.

She shook her head. “That was odd.” She tried to explain herself.

“Um, what was?” Milo dropped his hand and put it in his sweater pocket.

“I think… you look like someone I knew. But I can’t remember who.” Prudence turned around, found a chair and sat down.

“Oh, well I hope it was no one that you dislike. Maybe it’ll come back to you later.” Milo smiled.

“I hope so too. With my luck, it’ll be just like all the other memories I’ve gotten today. Painful and violent.”

Milo rocked on his feet, and he was looking at the floor. Prudence could tell he was nervous, so she made an attempt to smile. He noticed and returned the favor.

“Do you need anything? Like, a change of clothes?” Milo offered, gesturing toward Prudence.

Prudence looked down. The blood on her blue dress made her sick. She nodded, trying to keep calm.

Milo scratched his head. “How about I show you where you’ll be staying? The darkest room, only one on the bottom floor.”

“That would be nice.” Prudence smiled. Milo seemed to be comfortable with her, but not comfortable with the fact he had been taken away from whatever he was doing on the second floor.

Prudence noticed his hands were calloused, but they didn't seem like calluses created from working with metal or wood. They were mainly on the middle finger, forefinger, and thumb. Prudence imagined what would make them be like that. She concluded Milo must spend most of his time writing.

"I guess being gone for a few centuries is a recipe for confusion huh? Don't worry you'll figure it out, and we'll help." Milo showed her the way and opened the door for her. Prudence was surprised that the gesture was familiar.

“Thanks." Prudence was in a room with dark blue walls and a fluffy green carpet. There was a bed with light blue sheets and a dark frame with a headboard, a desk, some chairs and bedside tables the same color as the bed frame.

Milo walked in and opened the only white door in the room. “This is the bathroom. Where we clean ourselves and, em…” Milo suddenly looked uncomfortable. He put one of his hands in his pant pockets and looked away. “It also serves as an outhouse.”

Prudence raised her eyebrows and went in after him. She was curious.

“Toilet, where you, um…” Milo trailed off again.

“Oh, I know that word.” Prudence was quick to ease Milo’s discomfort.

Milo smiled. “Okay, press here and water flushes out the remains.” He flushed the toilet. “It refills back again on its own. This is the trash bin, for trash, we empty it ourselves.”

He turned and pulled back a strange curtain. "This is a bathtub, for cleaning. This is for hot water, this is for cold ; you turn them, and it comes out of here. If you need help, you can call me."

He turned again, this time to a small porcelain bowl sticking out of the wall, over which was a mirrored cabinet. "This is a sink, like a tiny version of the tub, used for face and hands. We shower every day now and brush our teeth with… something I need to get for you, hold on." He walked out.

Prudence looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin was tan and smooth. Her long face showed a sign of freshness she cringed at. She felt tired. Her eyes were large and brown, slightly upturned at the ends. Her hair was brown and long, up to her knees, and a bit dry at the ends. Her body felt limber, and her muscles didn't hurt. She also felt sated.

She wanted to feel terrible. She felt she deserved to. No one should have been able to gain this much through the death of others, and yet here she was, healthy as she could be, with two murders in her past. Closing her eyes, she could see them in her mind. Their eyes were full of fear.

When Milo came back, Prudence wiped away her tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking around as if expecting to see a tangible reason in the bathroom.

Prudence sniffed. “Nothing, just, overwhelmed, I guess.” She didn’t want to dump her problems on him.

Milo looked at her like he didn't believe her. But instead of saying anything he gave Prudence a few small items. A small orange brush, a tube, what looked like a flat rough stick, and a pair of shears.

“This is a toothbrush, for brushing your teeth, and this is toothpaste, you put it on the toothbrush. This is a nail file, I noticed your nails might be hindering you, and scissors for your hair.”

Prudence looked down at her hands. Sure enough, her nails were long and cracked, snagging on her dress.

“We can get you to a hairdresser, a person that cuts hair for a job, later. Now I assume you would want a manageable length.”

"Yes, what length is customary now? Charlotte's is very short…" Prudence kept busy by turning the items Milo gave her over and over in her hands. The tube was smooth and squishy; the nail file was rough and flimsy.

“Umm, any actually. Women and men all have all sorts of hair lengths and styles. I don’t think you can go too short or too long when you cut it. Some even shave it.” Milo pointed to about his waist and then pointed to his own hair. “For clothes, we have a lot that might fit you. Your height and weight are pretty average.” Milo scratched his head. He was looking Prudence over, she noticed, but his glance wasn’t disrespectful. “Not that you don’t have the right to buy some later…”

He then produced another metal item from his pocket. “This is a nail clipper. Just put the nail in here and press down.”

Prudence clipped one of her nails carefully to show she understood. After fixing those, she asked Milo to help her cut her hair. He did a decent enough job, cutting the driest parts of the thick strands, making her hair come to the middle of her back. Prudence instantly felt lighter.

“Now,” she turned to the bath. “I turn this and — oh!” She turned the tap on, and the water streamed from the spoon-like thing resting on the tap, soaking her hand with slightly too hot water. Milo hurried and helped, flipping a switch. The water started flowing from the tap.

“Just turn it in small increments. I assume you’ll be able to figure out the bottles?” He asked nervously.

"Yes." Prudence suddenly wanted nothing more than to remove the bloody dress. “Thank you. For everything, I feel more comfortable now.”

“Not a problem, I am glad you feel better now. I’m going to go and let you, um, do what you do, but feel free to call me, for help.” Milo seemed to notice that Prudence wanted to clean herself. He pointed her to the towels and told her where to find clothes before quickly leaving the room. Prudence was surprised at how kind, gentle and patient he was with her. She was glad.

After fiddling with the bath a bit, she sat down letting the warm water clean her body. There were bottles all around her, and fortunately, all had instructions and names on them. Things have gotten a lot more complicated than soap she thought.

When there was no more blood coming off of her, she filled the bath with water and sat back. Her eyes closed, and she let the heaviness she felt in her body consume her.

The knitting needles bored into her brain again. She felt a hand around her head, pushing her down. She couldn't breathe. She opened her mouth and gulped water into her lungs. She tried to move, but her hands were tied behind her back. All she saw was a whirl of foam and bubbles.

Prudence jumped out of the tub, hitting her hand on the wall. It took a few minutes to register exactly where she was. A few more minutes for her heart to stop beating so fast.

These memories were tiring her out. If she had to guess she’d say she had been asleep at least three hundred years. Who did that and why? Milo said that Charlotte would show her the letter when she came back. Prudence had two reasons for wanting the day to be over.

The idea that someone wanted her dead, and that the person might still be around if they were a vampire didn't fill her with as much fright as one thought it would. It was as if she had been used to it; it was familiar. When she took into consideration, all of the memories she'd gained were violent, that seemed logical.

Prudence got up, feeling trapped in the bath. She dried her body then opened the wardrobe, grabbing a bright orange long skirt and a button-down shirt she thought would work for now. The fabric they were made of was the least odd from everything in the closet. Prudence wound up her hair in a low bun and yawned. Her body ached for sleep, but she was scared that if she closed her eyes, another vision of her memories would show up.

Despite her brain’s protests, her body found its way to the bed. It was unbelievably soft and smelled like flowers.

“Maybe the nightmares will stop if I’m comfortable.” She murmured as she wrapped herself in the blankets and closed her eyes. She didn’t know why, but she felt safer curled up in a fetal position.