Why her?

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around Alina as he said, "How was the walk?" "It was fine." Alina replied, "Actually, Steve told me that Mr. and Mrs. Dawson asked him to invite us to dinner. How does next week sound?" she added, suddenly remembering.

Max nodded with a smile. "I love the Dawsons. And Mrs. Dawson is such a great cook!" he exclaimed. Alina raised an eyebrow, "Better than me?"

Max froze in his tracks for a few seconds. He suddenly seemed to come to life as his head snapped in the direction of the bedroom he shared with Alex. "What? Alex!? You want me to come there? Sure!" he yelled before disappearing in the direction. Alina shook her head with an indulgent smile as she walked upstairs to her own room.

Two months later . . . .

Alina sat on her bed in her bedroom. She did not remember how she came here. In fact, she didn't think she remembered anything from the past two days.

She looked up as she heard a knock on the door. It was Steve, standing in the doorway with one hand on the door-frame. "You want something to eat? My mom made some chicken soup?" he asked, looking askance at Alina. She knew by the look on his face that his body was asking another question as his foot hovered at the edge of her room. He was silently asking if she wanted company, and loudly asking if she wanted to eat something.

Sadly, the answer to both those questions was a no. She wished she could just lean on Steve and let him comfort her right now. That she could be weak just for a few moments, but she knew she couldn't. Alina shook her head and said, "I'll be down in a bit. I need to thank everyone for coming."

Steve nodded his head as he understood the answer to both his questions. He walked downstairs, closing the bedroom door silently.

Inside the room, Alina continued to stare at the closed door for a few minutes, no idea what was happening. She inhaled a deep breath suddenly, as though remembering just now to breathe, and her eyes fell on the mirror on the other side of the room. Alina bit her lip as she continued to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She had on black, mourning clothes and her hair was pinned loosely at the nape of her neck. It fell down in swaying waves down her back. Her face looked like she was half dead. Pale skin, hollow cheeks, purple bags beneath her eyes, she looked like a victim of her mother's disease herself.

Alina looked at herself for a few more seconds before she turned her face away, disgusted. Why? Why did this have to happen to the best people? Why was she the only one left now? Why did the stupid disease have to take the people who actually deserved and wanted to live, and leave her? Her, with no dreams and hopes? And no one to live for.

Downstairs, Mrs. Dawson looked at his son as he walked down the stairs. "She didn't want to eat." she said, her words a statement, not a question. Steve nodded as he plopped on a chair beside her.