Echo

Everyone seemed to have died along with Nightingale and the little girl. Though our hearts were still pumping blood into our veins and our lungs still took in air, we felt dead instead. Who would sing us a ballad or console the mother who was still sobbing from crying over her taken daughter?

I sat with my back against my cell's door, the same spot where I was when Nightingale had said her goodbye the previous. The same spot where I had watched helpless as the little girl was being taken away. I wasn't thinking, I didn't know what to think. All I saw was Nightingale's hopeful eyes and...