"How long has she been lying here?" I asked, sitting on a chair beside the little girl’s bed. My hand gripped her tiny fingers tightly, stroking them gently as I gazed at her face full of pity.
"Five months," David replied.
I turned to David, looking at him with hope. "Will she survive?"
David shifted his gaze to the little girl. One second, two seconds, his mouth seemed ready to speak, but something held him back, as if he was hesitant.
"Maybe," he said.
I frowned. "Maybe? That’s all you can say?"
"Hanna, I’ve done everything to get her out of that place. Her body even responded well to the vaccine I gave her. But I don’t know how long she will last."
I turned away. Talking to David made me feel like I was sinking deeper into a circle I never should have entered.
The sound of the
