Kaitlyn

God! We hated him with each new level in the bucket. But the days he didn’t come. Empty the bucket. Feed us. They were the best. Our smell stopped mattering. We took imaginary trips to Superdrug. The seaside. Hot deep bubble baths. Endless showers. A swim in a pool.

A hair wash. It was all Kaitlyn wanted.

His steps echoed down the corridor. Wheeled mop bucket scuffed against the brick floor.

Kaitlyn was second to die.

We knew each other backwards by then. When the conversation lulled we chanted times tables. Anything to take our minds off what he did.