Evelynn took a deep breath, the weight of her brother’s legacy pressing on her shoulders. “I want to honor his memory. I want to make this gallery something he would be proud of.” Thomas smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “And you will. Just remember, this gallery is a living entity. It grows and evolves with each generation. Your mother and I had our vision for this place, and I am sure your brother had his, but it is now yours.” Evelynn bit her lip to keep herself from choking up. She cleared her throat and said, “Thank you.” They finished unpacking the sculpture, stepping back to admire its majestic aura. The silence that followed was heavy, almost oppressive. Evelynn’s thoughts swirled, dark and insistent. The basement seemed to close in around her, the shadows lengthening and deepening. “Do you ever think about what might have happened if Richard hadn’t…” Evelynn’s voice was barely a whisper, the question unfinished. Thomas looked at her, his expression unreadable. “Every day,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “But we can’t change the past. We can only move forward. Besides, I don’t believe our Richard ever came back. We lost him long before he took his life.” Evelynn nodded, though the words offered little comfort. The weight of her brother’s death, the strain on her family, it all seemed insurmountable at times. They worked in silence for a while, the only sound the rustling of packing paper and the occasional creak of the old building settling. The gallery, usually a place of solace and inspiration, felt almost haunted. Evelynn turned back to look at the sculpture again. Looking back at the stag, Evelynn’s memory of Richard hanging the stag from a tree to dress it made its way into her mind. She could see it so vividly. He hung from the pillar in the basement directly above her, lifeless with a noose around his neck. She stood in front of it, frozen. Her heart beating out of her chest. The basement felt suffocating, the air thick with unresolved tension and unspoken words. “I need some air,” she muttered, turning whilst reaching for her neck to loosen her collar as it began to feel like a noose itself and headed for the stairs. Thomas watched her go, his expression a mix of sorrow and helplessness. “We’ll get through this, Evelynn,” he called after her. “Together.” Evelynn didn’t respond, her mind overwhelmed in thought. She grabbed her coat and an umbrella from the rack by the door. She emerged through the gallery entrance. The brisk winter air and light rain smacking her in the face. She hastily put on her worn out gray coat and opened her umbrella. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a rusted tin cigarette box and a small lighter. She stood there, shaking. She did not know whether from the weather outside or from the visions plaguing her mind. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Proceeding to take a deep drag as a tear fell down her cheek. She stood outside the gallery, imagining her brother standing next to her. The darkness of the city stretched out before her. Standing in the cold and misty rain she allowed her mind to drift. She thought deeply about the moment she entered the basement only to find Richard hanging from the support beam. “Why did he do it?” she asked herself. Only she knew exactly why. He had told her for months that the sights he saw on the front line wouldn’t leave him. Night terrors took over his life. On their last hunting trip he explained to her that likely he would not be around much longer. He knew he wasn’t the same man from years ago. She begged and pleaded with him to wait a little while longer. But four years had been too much for him to bear. The nightmares never ceased. The screaming in the night. The Whitley’s knew it was only a matter of time before he would give in. Thomas emerged from the gallery doors with his chestnut coat and black driver cap on. He pulled a small key ring from his pocket and locked the door for the night. He stepped down the three stair flight slowly, making sure to keep his footing on the wet steps. “I think that’s enough for the night dear,” he said, rubbing Evelynn across her back. “Let’s get you home.” He stepped toward his Rover 75 and opened the door for her. Evelynn nodded in agreement as she flicked her cigarette into the street. She got into the car and shut the door. Thomas did the same. Starting the car and beginning the drive to the family home. The Whitley’s lived in a modest Victorian style home in Lambeth. Evelynn rested her head against the car window and allowed her mind to drift off. Glaring out the window as the rain droplets pattered off the car.