Eulalia's Diary

Eulalia’s condition remained precarious, teetering on the brink of danger one moment and in a vegetative state the next.

A month had already passed with Percival stationed in the hospital, which had become his makeshift studio. He worked in quiet solitude while vigilantly caring for Eulalia, seizing every opportunity to speak with her.

The doctor suggested that talking to her might stimulate her brain to awaken.

Percival devoted copious amounts of time to Eulalia, playing her favorite violin music and massaging her. Due to her immobility, her muscles had atrophied, and even if she were to wake up, she wouldn’t function like before.

He spent hours each day massaging her legs and moving her limbs to maintain some physical activity.

The wounds on Eulalia’s fingers were slowly healing, leaving a tapestry of needle marks even after the bandages were removed, as if they would never fade.

Her once delicate fingers had transformed, and Percival’s heart sank at the sight of her bare fingertips