Eva was woken the next morning by a soft tapping on her door. Still groggy with sleep, she fumbled with the covers before she stumbled and opened the door. Standing on its threshold was Mitchell.
“I just came to tell you that you need to get ready. There’s a bathroom down the hall; four doors down on your right. Come back here as soon as your done and I’ll come back to get you.”
“What about breakfast?”
“That’s what I’m coming to get you for.” With a smile, Mitchell closed the door.
Eva sighed and turned to the small wardrobe. She pulled open the doors and pulled out a loose fitting white cotton shirt and loose fitting pants. With her bundle in her arms, she stepped out of her room and crept towards the bathroom. She changed quickly and washed her face. She examined her reflection. No longer was she the happy, smiling girl who laughed at her father’s lame jokes. Her eyes were heavily lidded with dark shadows from the restless night she’d had. She already looked slightly thinner.
Once she returned to her room, she finally let out all that she’d been keeping concealed. The shock had worn off and she was left with nothing but heartache, confusion, and utter sadness. Mitchell returned and knocked on the door. When there was no response, he opened the door. His eyes immediately found little Eva, curled in the farthest corner in the room, her eyes bloodshot from crying. He could not resist his paternal instinct; he reached Eva and cradled her in his arms. They stayed like that for an immeasurable amount of time. Once she had cried herself out, she fell asleep against his strong shoulder. Smiling sadly, Mitchell picked up her small frame and lay in on the white bed. He backed out of the door and closed it quietly behind him.