He extended his arm, feeding me some soup as I had a big white cozy blanket wrapped around my freezing, weak body.
"Ethan" I called. He looked up to me, nodding only once. My eyes dropped to the floor, looking at anything but him. "What happened to Luke?"
"I don't know" He sighed and rested the spoon inside the bowl.
"Well, what about Dom and Michelle?" I asked, feeling my anxiety rise up.
"I don't know either" He trailed off. "Look, just focus on getting better now, yeah?" He said, setting the bowl on the table beside the bed and grabbed the glass of water, helping me drink some.
"Thanks" I said, almost in a whisper.
Throughout the days, I felt emptier than ever as I talked less and less every time. I was fed, and was kept company by Ethan, but it didn't really get my mind off the things that had happened.
Nights were even tougher for me, and for Ethan, because I would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming as I dreamed of my sister's death. Her screams and the look on her face before she died.
It would happen almost every night, sometimes even more than once, and Ethan would come in just to comfort me, telling me it was just a dream, despite being half sleep.
Sometimes, he would just sleep on the ground, next to the bed, so that I wouldn't feel as lonely.
He would cook me breakfast, lunch and dinner altogether. Help me bathe and change my clothes. Everything. He did everything I had to do that I couldn't do for myself.
I was healed physically within days, but I was so mentally damaged.
For weeks I stared at white faded walls and old, cheap furniture. I would overthink, and barely say anything at all. This, was my stage, of depression.
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