The door creaked open slowly. Anna stepped inside, a dim candle flickering in her trembling hand. Its glow cast uneven shadows on the walls, revealing the barrenness of the room. The sheets were pulled off the bed, the clothes pulled off the closet and thrown on the floor. The plate of food in Anna's other hand wobbled as she approached the corner where Emberline sat, her back against the wall, her knees drawn tightly to her chest.
"Emberline," Anna said softly, her voice barely louder than the whisper of the flame. "I brought you something to eat. It's your favourite. Meatballs with garlic soup, I spent all evening making it,"
Emberline didn't look up. The faint light revealed her face—puffy, her eyes swollen from endless tears, her lips cracked and pale. Her hands gripped her knees so tightly her knuckles were white.
"You should eat," Anna continued, stepping closer. "You need your strength. Please, just a few bites."
