***

While I lay quiet on my bed like a dead person, Heather quietly entered the room and came to sit by me. I kept my eyes on the ceiling. I felt like life had been drained out of me.

Heather held my hand in hers.

"D- don't worry, Sheridan. Dad will find uncle Paul." she murmured softly. I didn't move or respond. "I'm sorry, Sheridan."

She ran her little fingers through my hair, continuously and softly. Surprisingly, it relaxed me.

"You feeling a little bit better?" she asked softly. I nodded slowly. She continued.

"Please don't cry again. You cried this morning and- and it made me cry too....