The world was quiet. Too quiet.
It had been a full day since the crash, and the initial shock was giving way to a bone-deep sadness.
The image of Matteo Rossi's smiling face, the one from the TV screen, was a constant replay in my mind. He was just a kid with a dream, a man who had his whole life in front of him. The weight of his loss pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.
My mom sat beside me, her hand still holding mine, her presence a silent comfort.
She didn't talk much, just squeezed my hand every so often to let me know she was there.
I was bruised and sore, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emptiness in my head.
The Vision, my special ability, was gone. I tried to call on it, to see the Potential and Current abilities of the nurses passing by in the hallway, but there was nothing.
No numbers, no aura, just a blank, silent wall in my mind. It was a terrifying kind of silence. The thing that made me special was just… gone.
