Malcolm
I had never fully grasped how delicate Mika was until I lifted her into my arms. As I cradled her, it struck me how remarkably light she felt—almost as if she were made of feathers rather than flesh.
My fingers brushed against her skin, and I could distinctly feel the sharp edges of her bones, a poignant reminder of her frailty. It made me wonder—was she neglecting her meals or perhaps enduring more profound starvation?
With great care, I carried her to my bedroom, my heart heavy with concern. I wanted her to find solace and peace, free from the burdens that had brought her to this state. As I gently laid her down on the soft sheets, I tucked a warm blanket around her, hoping to shield her from the cold after Max had wiped her face and hands.
Until we could figure out what i
