in concentration

Rosie says there is to be a dinner with the camp officials and their families. This piece of information was oddly puzzling. These officials had families? I wondered if their children were evil and beastly. Did they never laugh, and smile as children do? Were their eyes tunnels of icy coldness? But no... When I managed to catch a glimpse of them they looked just as children should; no giantous height, no monstrous teeth or dagger mirror eyes.1

Our room smelled worse than usual as Merope had wretched sick all over the theshold of the foor. The need to leave this place spilled over inside my soul with pathetic woefullness. When I thought back to the pink Japanese tree that bloomed magnificently outside my window I felt I wanted to cry, the memory of its beauty was still so strong. When it dies, as all things do, worms and maggots would inhabit it's corpse and make a home of it, they would make use of it. When I was dead, (and I did not avoid this inevitability), who would inhabit me, in this place?