“Amelia?” she managed. Her voice sounded so small yet seemed to echo and ghost from the walls around her as she stalked down the corridor. The wooden planks at her claws, which had always creaked and groaned in protest of the weight that pressed down upon them daily, did not so much as squeak, as if fearing causing further offence. The corridor itself seemed much longer then she remembered it. A lightheadedness came upon her as she reached for Amelia’s door and found it unlocked. She pushed it open with all her strength. It felt like it was made of lead, and her movements were slow and sluggish. It reluctantly gave way and swung open. 