My father knew the gleam in my eyes all too well.

"Now Milly, we have a home here. We need to make the best out of it."

Milly pouted, but followed her father diligently into their new home. She wrinkled her nose as he walked up to the dingy shack. Dirt covered the walls, and sewage was in the street. Still, she was a good daughter, and followed her family into the shack.

The walls were covered in soot, or dirt, Milly didn't know which. There were dishes in the sink that were weeks old, and covered in mold. The air was thick with dust, and her baby brother coughed something fierce.