My Daughter. My Eva.

Why?

I crumpled to the floor and let out a bloodcurdling scream. I'm sure everyone in the hospital could hear me. I screamed and screamed until I physically couldn't anymore. Tears flooded my vision. But all that wouldn't change the fact that Eva was dead. And I knew it. "Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why? Why!" I yelled, punctuating each word with a blow to my head. "Don't do that!" Someone yelled and yet again I was grabbed by my wrists. I tried to hit myself again but they wouldn't let me. So I just hanged there, a limp, sobbing mess. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.

∆One week after Eva's death∆

She was buried under an oak tree in the graveyard. I visited her whenever I could, often staying there overnight to make sure she was ok. I didn't want to go home. When I did a crushing sense of loneliness and sadness would weigh me down. I was happier at the grave. I only ate and drank at work, not wanting to worry anyone. I didn't deserve their pity.

∆Two weeks after Eva's death∆

Sarah found me sleeping at the grave one night and forced me to go home. She took care of me. Why? I didn't deserve it. I let my daughter die, didn't I? If I had only fought a little harder! But if I did wouldn't I just have been a hassle to the doctors fighting to save Eva? If I had just kept her off school that day she wouldn't have caught the illness! If I had just found the cure in time she wouldn't have died! I couldn't bring myself to look at all the pictures of Eva on the walls, not after I had let her down so badly. Sarah helped me turn them all around.

∆Three weeks after Eva's death∆

Sarah left. I went back to not eating or drinking. When I did try to have a drink of water I dropped the mug Eva made for me. It shattered into a million pieces. I dropped to my knees and desperately tried to re-assemble it. I should have felt sad. I didn't. I just felt numb.

∆Four weeks after Eva's death∆

'I don't want to live anymore' That's the thought that constantly circled around my mind.