Cold

Cold.
Dead.
Papa was gone.
His mind fled with Mama. He's stopped eating, he's almost dead. More zombie-like than living.
Ivan says that's what happens when your love leaves you, without promise of return. I wouldn't know, I've never loved anyone, and I wonder why he would know. I can't ask Lance, obviously, and Lex is too young to get it.
So I'm left sitting in bed, my legs pulled to my chest and my chin on my knees as I wonder what it means. What everything means.
I also ask the silence why. Why did they take Mama, why did Lance leave, why is Papa's face blank, why. Why. Why is it such a cold world.
Mama took Papa's breath when she left, and now he's slowly suffocating. She took Lance's loyalty, and Ivan's courage. She stole away Lex's straight forwardness, and most importantly, she took my hope.
I can't go on without hope. I'm hollow, cold. I'm disappearing, turning invisible.
All because Mama left us for the cold to come creeping through the cracks in the windows and cover us in ice.