The world shattered into a symphony of screams, then silence. One moment, the familiar comfort of my family in the car on a rainy night; the next, blinding darkness. I woke to hospital whispers, four months later, a sweet scent clinging to the air. A kind, wealthy woman told me my family was 'no longer here.' They were gone, all of them, in the same accident that brought me to her. Everything I knew, erased. Alone, terrified, I reached for a knife, only for her gentle hand to stop me. She embraced me, holding me as if I were the breath of life itself. The silence between us stretched, heavy with unshed tears, but in her arms, a small, fragile comfort took root.