They knocked on her door a couple of times, nor did the insistent call make her get out of the bed in which she had buried her dreams several weeks ago, she felt like a forgotten old rag doll, forgotten by the world and forgotten by God.

Everything had changed for her the day when she received "the message" in a small shiny glass bottle.

He was so small, so helpless... at night she still heard his laughter trapped in the walls and that killed her slowly. It was still October, the bitter autumn that took away everything she loved.

For her the obsession that he had with pirates, ships and shipwrecked was always a bit theatrical. Finding that bottle on his bed with his suicide letter left her adrift, lost in the middle of an island of pain, depression and loneliness.

She got out of bed, took a deep breath and broke the bottle that she kept like a treasure; the letter fell to the ground along with the pieces of glass. She pressed vertically on her wrists the sharp tips and she let the blood begin to come out, waiting anxiously to reunite with her son.

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