87

Camille

I gaze at Alessio sitting on the beach in the distance, smoking.

He doesn't smoke often, and not like this.

This broken version of him where he looks like the lost boy again.

The last few days have been terrible for the both of us. First for me. Then for him.

He returned from the hospital a few hours ago and told me what happened with his father.

I didn't know what broke him more—finding out the truth and not being able to do anything about it, or watching his father die and knowing it's the end.

Both were too much. Like everything else.

To say I'm still a mess is putting it lightly, but I know I need to be there for him now. The way he has been for me.

The last few days have been like none other. I previously thought the day my mother killed herself was the worst day of my life. Seeing the bones of the family I forgot in that grave was beyond that. I don't think I'd ever be able to explain to anyone how I felt then. And how I feel now.

The memory I relived is still slicing th