Mom held me so tightly I could barely breathe.
I don't know how long we stayed like that. My body was still shaking when I lifted my head slightly.
He was still there.
Mr Cole hadn't left.
He sat a few feet away from us, leaning forward, covering his face with one hand.
One of his legs trembled slightly.
Every now and then, he looked at us through his fingers.
He didn't say a word.
He just stayed.
Mom shifted beside me and gently placed a glass of water into my hands. My fingers were still trembling as I took it. I spilled a little, as water on my shirt.
My breath started to even out, a little
Mr Cole cleared his throat softly.
"Marianne…"
Mom looked up at him, her eyes were red and swollen.
"I'm so sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry all of this happened to your family. I just want you to know… you're not alone."
He paused, for a moment.
"I'll always be here to help. If you decide to reconsider my offer…at any time, please don't hesitate to reach out. I only want what's best for you both. The best chance to heal." His gaze flicked to me. "For her. And for you."
Mom nodded slowly.
"Thank you," she whispered. "You've already done more than we could ever ask."
He gave a small nod, stood up, and after one last look in my direction, walked out.
The door closed softly behind him.
—
That night, everything felt too quiet.
Mom brought food into the room, setting it beside me. She kept brushing my hair back, whispering over and over, "Everything will be alright. I promise. Everything will be alright."
I didn't know if she was trying to convince me.
She sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with her fingers.
"About what Mr Cole mentioned earlier…" she began, then stopped.. "Did you want more soup?"
I shook my head gently.
She sighed and tried again.
"After the accident," she said softly, "he reached out to me. He saw where I moved to. He made an offer. He said… we could move to his house in the city. That he wouldn't mind helping, or taking responsibility."
My eyes widened.
"I…I declined the offer," she rushed to say. "I couldn't make that decision while you were unconscious. And I thought… what if they find Ethan? What if he comes home and we're not here?"
Her voice cracked.
"But Mr Cole promised we'd stay in contact with the police. That he'd make sure we're informed about Ethan. And I just…" She pressed her hand to her forehead. "I don't know. Everything feels too much. It's overwhelming."
I reached out and placed my hand over hers.
She looked at me, surprised.
I forced a weak smile. Then, picked up my phone. My fingers moved slowly as I typed:
Mom, you don't have to worry so much. I'm here now. Moving might not be a bad idea. Mr. Cole seems kind. But let's think about it, okay?
I turned the screen toward her.
She read it, slowly.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."
Hours later….
I lay on my back, staring at the cracked ceiling from the far end. Every few seconds, a drop of water slipped through it, and landed in the bucket beneath it.
Every thought led to another, until my head felt too full to hold anything else.
Dad was gone.
Ethan was missing.
Four months of my life had vanished like I'd never lived them.
And now this place.
This room wasn't mine. This life wasn't mine. Nothing about this felt like home.
The thought of going back to school made my chest tighten. Walking through those hallways. Seeing Lily's face. Hearing whispers trail behind me.
I couldn't do it.
I couldn't sit in a classroom pretending my life hadn't shattered while theirs kept moving forward. I couldn't listen to teachers talk about the future when mine felt like it had already collapsed.
Staying meant reliving it all. Every single day.
This place held too much pain already. Too many unanswered questions. Too many nights my mom cried quietly.
If we stayed, this would be it.
The leaking ceiling.
The silence where Dad and Ethan should have been.
I turned onto my side, pulling the thin blanket tighter around me.
Leaving wouldn't bring Dad back, or erase what happened.
But maybe… it would give us hope.
Mr Cole's words echoed in my head.
A chance to heal.
Healing felt like a word meant for other people.
People who still had something left to heal for.
But nothing inside me felt like it could be healed.
I pressed my face into the pillow and breathed through the ache in my chest.
Tomorrow terrified me.
But staying here scared me more.