The hospital ceiling was starting to look like a bad painting—plain, boring, and a little too bright. I stared at it for hours, thinking maybe I’d find a secret message if I stared hard enough. But all I found was emptiness, just like the hole in my chest.

The days crawled by, each one heavier than the last. Every time the nurse walked in, I hoped it’d be someone with good news. Maybe my parents, alive. Maybe Dominic, sorry and desperate. But all I got was silence, and pitying looks ...