Every other sound in the world seems hushed for a moment, save for the click of the key as it turns. After a moment, I realize I have been holding my breath. “This should not be happening,” Mother sobs, holding my hand tight. “She was so young, she had her whole life ahead of her. Just fourteen years of age, and already being consigned to the family mausoleum.” It takes a moment, but Father is finally able to get the handle turned, and slowly the mausoleum's large metal door begins to swing open. I feel a shudder pass through my body as I see the dark nothingness within, and I'm sure the air actually feels a little colder. Turning, I look back at the men who are holding Verity's coffin aloft. I begged and begged to be allowed to join them, but Father and Mother both told me that it would not be appropriate. Now, as one of the men mutters something, they start carrying the coffin forward, heading toward the mausoleum's open door.
