It was the first time in days that Fernanda walked the long halls of the house ever since she returned to Italy from burying both her son and grandson, choosing to have her meals in her room instead. Nothing made sense since then, maybe even before then, losing both family members in one night. It hadn't felt real at first. It felt more like a jest, a cruel taunt. But she had seen Dominic's corpse, watched his casket being lowered into the ground. After that she felt numb.
She retreated within herself, purposefully isolating herself from the world but as soon as she stepped foot outside her carefully crafted cocoon, the bubble burst and everything came rushing at her. It was an onslaught of emotions, beating down her already fragile armor. Anger, pain and guilt. They struck repeatedly, harder and faster each time until her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.
