I pushed open the door slowly, the hinges creaking in the silence.
Mother's head turned sharply toward the sound, her body tensing.
"Who's there?"
My throat closed.
"It's me, Mom. Christopher."
She didn't relax.
If anything, her shoulders stiffened further, her hands clenching in her lap.
"Christopher?" Her voice wavered, uncertain. "Is that really you?"
The question made me almost cry.
"Yes, Mom. It's me."
I crossed the room, pulling a chair close to her bed. When I reached for her hand, she flinched before allowing the contact.
Her fingers felt cold.
"I couldn't tell," she whispered, her face crumpling. "I couldn't see you. I can't see anything anymore."
I swallowed hard, fighting the burn in my eyes.
"I know, Mom. I know."
"Everything is dark," she continued, her voice ri
