"Marissa, your parents they are ..." He took another deep breath. "They are dead." My world collapsed. There was this loud sound in my ears. I was not able to perceive anything from my surroundings. I think I fell on the ground. I don't know. I just somehow ended up there. Maybe I wasn't strong enough to stand. I cried. I cried so much, that even though if I wanted to open my eyes, I wouldn't be able to do it. My whole eyes were covered in water. I was drowning. And I don't think anybody could save me. I knew that. I didn't hear a single sound. I just felt two strong arms wrapping around me. I don't know who it was. But they lifted me and carried me away. They did not let me go. Even though I didn't want to have physical contact currently, I couldn't fight back. I was too much in my world. In my universe.

It wasn't their time yet. They deserved to live much longer. But God took them away from me. It's destiny at which point in your life you go. Life doesn't have the same length for everyone. We have to accept when it is over for someone. We can't change that. It is not in our control. And still, it feels like we could have changed it. It feels like it was our fault that they have gone away. I hope they fly high. They will be great angels. They will protect me. I know that. But I also know that it will take way longer than I expected to see them again. That is what hurts. It doesn't hurt, that I couldn't say goodbye. It doesn't hurt that they went away too early. It hurts that it'll take my whole life to see them again. But maybe is my life just as short as theirs. Or even shorter. I don't know that. I don't know that now. No one knows. That would be the end of humanity, or at least of what is left of it.

The next days went by very slow. I think those were days. It is surely possible that it was just hours or minutes. I don't know. I don't care either. I managed to stand up and walk to my room and haven't left it since. I didn't let anyone come inside. Steve already threatened me several times to break through the door. But I knew he wouldn't do it. I ignored every single try to get me to eat or drink something. I knew it wasn't healthy. But I didn't care. I didn't care about anything. I didn't even cry anymore. I think I didn't have enough liquid in my body. Or it was just tired of wasting unnecessary energy. I also didn't lay in bed the whole time. Sometimes for sure. But not all the time. Most of the time I sat with my back against the door, making sure no one comes inside, on the floor. My head tilted in my hands. My legs are drawn up. I slept a lot. But every time I closed my eyes, I not only saw my parents but also I relived the day I got shot. It was just too much at once.Normally I was able to recover alone. I did never need anyone but myself for mental problems. I discussed them in my head or talking to myself. But now, it was all just too much. I needed time. But I also knew that this time could kill me.