It had taken her weeks of searching, weeks of people bothering her and pestering her and hounding at her door but she finally found the nursery key.
It wasn't as empty as she expected it to be.
Toys littered the floor, scattered among scraps of fabric that were so stained it made her heart ache for all the washing she'd have to do before the buried them.
All the tiny bones would much easier to deal with.
Her favourite kitchen tool had always been her blender, grinding bones to dust wouldn't be much of a strain for it and she could scatter that to the winds with ease.
Play the part of a grieving widow in a distant forest that her "dear old husband" once loved.
They'd be none the wiser, she could say the nursery had always been empty and the children had left with their parents and none of the blame would fall to her.
In her mind, parents who left their children with her for weeks at a time clearly didn't want them anyway.
It wasn't as empty as she expected it to be.
Toys littered the floor, scattered among scraps of fabric that were so stained it made her heart ache for all the washing she'd have to do before the buried them.
All the tiny bones would much easier to deal with.
Her favourite kitchen tool had always been her blender, grinding bones to dust wouldn't be much of a strain for it and she could scatter that to the winds with ease.
Play the part of a grieving widow in a distant forest that her "dear old husband" once loved.
They'd be none the wiser, she could say the nursery had always been empty and the children had left with their parents and none of the blame would fall to her.
In her mind, parents who left their children with her for weeks at a time clearly didn't want them anyway.
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