Despite her exhaustion, Stéphanie woke up several times during the night without being able to tell exactly what time it was each time. All she knew was that she was in tears. During the day, she had cried very little. On the one hand, she had forced herself not to show this face to her sister, and on the other hand, she had worked hard as never before to exhaust herself to the point of forgetting how unhappy she was.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been so unhappy.

She had come to the conclusion that she had never suffered emotionally so much. She had been sad before, but never, ever to this extent. All those times she had cried seemed ridiculous to her now, like childish tantrums.

She felt terribly alone now. Unfortunately, it was only too late that she had realized how happy she had been all those years. Just knowing that she could never see her parents again, hear their voices, argue like children, eat in the living room, watch a movie or a series together on the couch; all of this crushed her heart.

They were now resting in peace, together for eternity under a humble cherry tree in their garden.

From memory, her parents had planted it there the day they moved into this house.

Although awake, Stéphanie still felt like she was dreaming. The change was too brutal for the young girl. Even though she knew her parents were no longer there and she wasn't in her house anymore, a part of her refused to admit it. Maybe that's why she hadn't cried much since the funeral. Everything seemed so unreal. It seemed to her that at any moment she would wake up and find herself in her room. She would then tell her parents about the crazy dream she had had. She would of course skip some details.

But when she opened her eyes in the middle of the night, she didn't find her stuffed animals, her alarm clock, her posters, and her wardrobe. The new room was modest, like the rest of this house, shrouded in total darkness. Even though she couldn't see anything, she knew her sister was sleeping in a small bed next to hers.

The two sisters were in a spare room on the ground floor of Mr. Rosiers' house. On the other side of the wall facing the two beds was the living room. As for the owner of the place, he had his room upstairs.

The mattress she was lying on was hard and smelled musty. Her pillow wasn't as comfortable as hers, and her duvet was too heavy, but everything was clean.

Despite all these flaws, Stéphanie felt good. No, not good, safe.

Stéphanie grabbed the edge of the heavy duvet and slid deeper into her bed to cry silently. She wanted to scream, that's what she did in her head when she thought back to that precise moment when she discovered her parents' lifeless bodies.

She saw their faces again, felt her heart tear apart again, felt the touch of their cold skin, saw the color of the blood, and the silence, the same silence that reigned in the room now.

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Fortunately, Marie was there. Her mere presence was a relief. Without her, Stéphanie wasn't sure she would have made it. She had even had morbid thoughts. Who would blame her? She had lost her parents without being able to tell them how much she loved them and kiss them one last time. What remained of her teenage heart was suffocated by regrets. She had been hurt a lot, she had been forced to dig her parents' graves, and she had been forced to leave her house tainted by mourning.

After a while, she fell asleep again and plunged into a dream. But this time, it was as detailed and vivid as reality.

She was in the living room, it was morning, it was beautiful outside, and her parents were there. They had smiled at her when they saw her coming down from her room and had asked her if she had slept well. She had replied that she had had a horrible nightmare.

She then realized that she was no longer the fifteen-year-old girl but a younger version of herself, maybe eight or nine years old. She held her teddy bear in her hand, a Christmas present that had marked her a lot and that she had taken with her.

Her father, who seemed immense to her in her dream, had taken her on his lap and hugged her. She had felt safe and warm. She had even been able to smell his cologne, a smell that was very familiar to her since for a while he wore it all the time. A gift from her mother if her memory didn't play tricks on her.

"Do you want to tell me?" he had asked.

"We were at home, but there was no electricity! Nothing worked anymore!

"Oh? Really?

"Yes! It was all black! And we lit candles at night. And outside it was a mess! And I..."

The young girl had paused, staring at her stuffed animal.

"Yes?"

"I dreamt that bad guys broke into the house and hurt us! All of us! You, Mom, Marie, and me!"

She had leaned over to look at her father's face and had been surprised by his expression. It was as if he had something important to say, but didn't know how to say it. She looked at her mother who had the same look. Finally, it was her mother who broke the silence.

"My darling, you're going to have to be strong. For you and for your sister. You'll have to watch over her because it wasn't a bad dream."

"Mom... Dad..."

"We're sorry, sweetheart," Xavier said, placing a huge hand on his daughter's head. "But we won't be able to be with you. But you won't be alone, ever. As long as you're together, you'll be strong. You must watch over each other, do you understand?

"Y-you... You're really gone, then?

"..."

Stéphanie's two parents said nothing and just looked at her sadly.

"Why?! Why?!

"It's like that, honey. We can't help it," Christine replied. "But just because we're not here anymore doesn't mean you have to stop living. On the contrary, you have to do everything you can to join us as late as possible. We'll be waiting for you.

"Dad! Mom!"

She felt herself crying, she knew it was a dream from that moment on and that it was ending. She didn't have much time left.

"I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"

And she woke up.

Her pillow was as wet as after a downpour, yet she ignored it because it didn't matter. She then heard not far away the muffled sobs of her sister. Marie was still sleeping unless, like her, she had woken up in tears. Instinctively, Stéphanie got out of her small bed and entered her sister's. She pushed aside the thick blanket and cuddled up against Marie's warm body, who was facing away from her. She hugged her tightly. She could feel her breathing and her sobs.

"I dreamt about Mom and Dad," said Marie, her face bathed in tears.

"Me too," murmured Stéphanie.

"They told me we had to watch over each other and that they would watch over us."

"Same."

"Do you think they're in Heaven?" Marie asked.

"If they're not there, then there is no Heaven," declared the young girl. "Yes, I believe they're there."

"Thank you."

"Why?"

"For being here," Marie replied after a short pause.

"You're my sister. It's normal. Come on, we need to sleep. We have work tomorrow. Or maybe in a few hours? Anyway, goodnight."

"Goodnight."