Emma has been with us for a week and she's not adjusting well.
She barely speaks. Barely eats. Stays in her room most of the time. The few times I've seen her she looks hollow. Empty. Like her sister's death took everything that made her Emma.
I know that feeling. The grief. The guilt. The wondering if you could have done something different. Something that would have changed everything.
Clara says to give her time. That grief takes as long as it takes. That pushing won't help.
But I can't just leave her alone. Can't let her drown in guilt and loss without at least trying to reach her.
So I knock on her door. "Emma? It's Freya. Can I come in?"
Silence. Then. "I guess."
I open the door. She's sitting on the bed. Staring at nothing. Dark circles under her eyes. Hair unbrushed. She loo
