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Summary
“I… believe this is for Ethan,” you murmur. You look at the blood, covering every inch of fabric, and her eyes - open, staring, beautiful in death? you wonder. You do not know her name for there is nothing written on the back. She is just a woman, a wife, nothing more to remember her by for there is only Miranda, and Miranda has decreed the only name for you to remember, inside and out.
Angie silently steps toward you and you show her the photo.
“Mother Miranda wants us to make a doll… of that?”