Piece of trash

The tragedy had occurred, exactly a week to Thanksgiving, eight years ago. Lyons could remember that day, as clear a ball of crystal. He could still remember how it was for him and his family. That morning, everyone was downstairs getting ready to have breakfast.  Everyone except Peggy. Initially, no one thought much of it. Sometimes, she would ditch breakfast, mostly because she was at the studio, sketching one drawing or the other. But a couple of hours later and still no sign of her, everyone became concerned. 

And so, the servants were instructed to get her. They knocked all they could but she wouldn’t answer. Eventually, the door was broken down and lying face down on the floor just beside the bed was Peggy. 

Lyons could remember how different she looked. Scary, if he was being honest. Peggy's naturally cherry lips had darkened. It'd b