It was a slow process, almost like trying to convince a scared kitten down a tree top. The days dragged by as Christopher tried to draw Jane out of her quiet, lost state.
Every sharp noise made her jump out of her skin. Sometimes, he found her wide awake and watching the door in the middle of the night. Christopher had really begun to worry.
Then one morning, the sound of laughter filled the little house. It was like a lasso tied around his chest, drawing him in whether he liked it or not. Christopher followed the warm sound all the way to the second bedroom which Jane had been using for the past week since they got to the farm.
The farmhouse, unlike his home in the city, was little more than a cottage. It consisted of two small bedrooms, one bathroom, and an open plan that saw the kit
