Chapter 4
Luca pressed his hand down hard on the doorknob.
The door creaked open, loud enough to stop the neighbor in his tracks as he headed upstairs. He turned back.
“Mister, I’m sorry. I won’t cry anymore,” Luca whispered, his head drooping. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, like he thought he’d done something wrong.
The neighbor blinked, clearly thrown off by the sight of a kid. “Uh… it’s okay, kid. Just try to keep it down, alright?”
And just like that, he turned and kept walking upstairs.
“No! Please, just check! Go inside! Look around!” I screamed, my voice cracking. Tears blurred everything as I watched him leave.
We were so close. One step. Why wouldn’t he just take one step inside?
The neighbor grumbled, his voice fading as he climbed. “What kind of parents leave a little kid like this alone? Unbelievable.”
I turned back to Luca, standing frozen in the doorway, his head hanging low. He looked so scared.
“No, Mister! You don’t get it–I’m dead! I’m dead!” I shouted with useless rage. I turned to Luca. “Luca, my baby…”
I tried–God, I tried–to hold him, to wrap him up, to say anything, but it was no use. My hands went straight through.
Luca quietly shut the door and shuffled back inside. He turned on the TV and sat there, staring blankly, the sound of his growling stomach filling the silence.
‘Why didn’t I leave more food? Why didn’t I stock up on snacks?‘ The thoughts clawed at
- me.
Luca dragged a little stool to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge, finally pulling out a single egg.
Clutching it tight, he paused, then ran back to the bedroom and gently placed it in my hand. “Eggy. Luca’s hungry and wants eggy,” he said, pointing to his mouth.
I stayed still–completely useless. Luca shook me hard, his tiny hands desperate to wake
me up.
When I didn’t respond, he ran back to the kitchen, egg in hand.
He climbed back onto the stool, trying to remember how Lused to cook. After a pause, he
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Chapter 4
reached for the gas stove and turned it on.
Cracking the egg straight into the pan, he stirred it with a small spoon. But there was no oil, and the egg sizzled and popped, sending hot splatters onto his face.
Luca yelped, a tiny blister already forming on his cheek. Panicked, he ran back to the bedroom, tears streaming, and buried himself in my arms.
“Luca,
no! The stove! You didn’t turn it off!” I screamed.
If the gas leaked, if the fire spread–this could end everything.
“Luca, you remember the fire safety class, right? Turn off the valve! Please, baby, you’ll die!
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I tried to guide him somehow, but he didn’t hear me. He couldn’t.
He stayed curled up under the covers, trembling like a tiny quail, his hands clamped over his mouth to muffle his sobs.
A tidal wave of hatred and despair crashed over me.
‘Why is Bill so irresponsible? Why does my baby have to suffer like this?!
But I was dead–powerless.
‘Luca, it’s all my fault. Mommy failed you.‘
Chapter 5
