Tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes, soaking into her pillow. The overwhelming despair returned, suffocating her. The thought of leaving everything behind—of simply ceasing to exist—seemed almost comforting.
Her fever worsened, her thoughts growing hazy as she drifted in and out of consciousness.
In her fevered state, she dreamt of faces from her past—people she had loved, people who had mattered. The images were blurred and fleeting, but the emotions were vivid, pulling her deeper into the haze.
For a moment, she felt warmth. And then, only darkness.
It felt as if time had rewound, back to when she was just a little girl—those golden days when it was only her, Mom and Dad, a perfect family of three.
Every evening, Dad would come home from work with bags full of her favorite foods and sometimes, if she was lucky, he'd bring her a new doll. Mom would always complain, “You’re just spoiling her!” even as she helped unpack the gifts, her eyes sparkling with joy.
“Should we hang this pink one above Evelyn’s bed? She loves pink!” Mom would ask with a grin, holding up the latest doll.