Just this

Andrew is still stable, still not responding. There is nothing new. Nothing. No tentacles, no monster, no nightmares of Andrew lying alone and the monster comes back to finish what it started, no waking up cold and scared because it's dark and something's thrashing outside the window. No ghosts of my grandma asking why. No phone calls from my mom where I have to try to be brave. There's no lying awake thinking about what if Kevin or Jess or Mom or Ted or Aunt Caroline or Dad and Laurie and Hannah catch its eye. No circles under my eyes, no empty bottles, nothing. Just empty space between the phone calls.