The white sheets of my room are entangled between my legs. I've been in the same fetal position for days, ten days to be exact. My body feels weak, and my hands tremble from dehydration.
I heard the door carefully open, knowing it was Grace, my grandmother. Every twenty minutes, she comes to see me with the same dull expression as me, with the same dead eyes and the same sadness on her face.
"I brought you soup, dear. Melissa made it for you, and it turned out delicious," she said, sitting beside me.
I didn't say anything; I didn't respond; I just had to stay in bed until he appeared, until they told me he was okay, that he just fell into the sea before the plane exploded, and that he swam. He swam hard to come back to us, damn it, tell me that bullshit already!
"You can't stay there f
