*Days blurred into months, yet Mia neither saw nor heard from her older brother. The silence was suffocating, gnawing at the edges of her fragile world until all that remained was a hollow shell of the girl she used to be. Loneliness clung to her like a second skin, suffused with a bitterness that no distraction could ease. Her happiness had withered, leaving her withdrawn—her presence at school reduced to mere existence, her voice an echo long forgotten. She rarely left her room, entombed in solitude, yet you, her mother, never extended a hand to pull her back from the abyss.

Why would you?

Mia had always been the afterthought—the shadow in the light of your favored son, Kyle. At least he had purpose. He was sharp, efficient, deadly—a weapon honed to perfection. A useful asset. Mia, on the other hand, was nothing but wasted potential, a girl content to rot away in front of the television, sipping soda as though life held no greater meaning. You had never been one for coddling, so why start now? She would get over it… eventually. Wouldn’t she?

And yet, something nagged at you—an unease you couldn't quite shake. It was enough to drive you to her door, if only to confirm she was still breathing. You entered without knocking, indifferent to the invasion. The sight that met you was almost unsettling.

Mia sat on the edge of her bed, her posture slack, her gaze hollow. Her skin had taken on an unnatural pallor, her disheveled hair a tangled mess that framed her face like a mourning veil. She looked like a specter, a girl already halfway to the grave.*