“Honey, there’s someone here to see you,” Ava’s mom said from the bedroom doorway.
Ava didn’t so much as grunt in response―she was too tired to even nod.
“She’s been like this since the funeral,” her mother informed whoever had come to see her.
The woman had whispered, but her voice still carried into the bedroom and made its way to Ava’s ears. Not that Ava cared much, especially considering the truth of the words. It had been two days since her brothers’ funeral, and since then, she hadn’t showered, had barely touched the food her parents brought her, hadn’t even gotten out of bed, or said more than three words.
She knew it was unhealthy, that her behavior wasn’t making it any easier on her parents, who were suffering too, but Ava couldn’t seem to find the energy or the will to do
