As Much as You ✓

Carmen: 15.

"He's been like this ever since the accident. I don't know how I can help. We tried everything Kevin suggested, nothing worked. His whole personalities changed."

"I know." Carmen muttered. She'd seen his behaviour in a new light today, and hadn't realised just how much he'd lost in after the accident until a moment ago; when he threatened to never speak to his other brother again. "Kevin said he might never remember."

"We can only hope he does," Guilia replied, sniffing loudly. Carmen looked over at her from the bathtub to see her with her knees drawn to her body, her head low, resting on her arms. Carmen's gazed softened.

Everyone knows that losing a child is the hardest thing a mother can go through, and even though Ezra didn't die in that car accident, a part of him died. He wasn't the same person anymore. Carmen couldn't imagine what Guilia was going through as a mother, because she couldn't imagine anything bad happening to her son – she didn't want to imagine – but she knew how Guilia felt in a different way.

Maybe it was worse for Guilia because Ezra actually remembered her, but acted like he hated her.

Now Carmen was wondering why she even came at all, because this was a hopeless trip.

"Guilia?"

The woman looked up, her dark hair falling around her face. "Yes, honey?"

"I think I'm going to go home tonight."

"Honey, you don't have to leave."

"I think it'll be for the better," Carmen said quietly. "He's disturbed because I'm here. If I go, things will be better."

"Trust me they won't."

"Guilia..."

"Why can't he just remember?" Guilia cried, her bottom lip quivering. "Why did this have to happen to my baby?"

Carmen turned her body in the bath and the water moved, but she held out her hand. Water dripped from her fingers onto the floor, but she ignored it, hoping Guilia wouldn't mind. Guilia looked up at her, tried to smile even though her eyes were watering, and grabbed Carmen's wet hand.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Carmen replied. "Cry if you want."

Using her free hand, Guilia wiped away a stray tear and Carmen noticed how thin Guilia's hands were. Her veins were showing and her skin was white. Something dropped in Carmen's stomach. She looked like she needed a break; Carmen would have to sort that out. After all, she'd looked after her a lot in the seven years that they had lived in London together.

Carmen missed that point in her life. And she missed London – even now. She still lived in London, but she was away so much, and she did so many shows in America alone, that she had her own apartment in Manhattan. Sometimes shooting for months at a time, Kevin had to look after Harrison himself. If Carmen took Guilia to America, maybe she'd relax, put on some weight, and try to forget what a nightmare this was.

"No, no," Guilia replied. "I'm not going to cry. It doesn't get me anywhere."

"But it can be good sometimes."

"Look at me," Guilia laughed meekly, "I can't even stop myself from crying. I wish I was as calm as you right now."

"Trust me," Carmen replied, "I'm not calm." Her hands were shaking, but Guilia couldn't tell because she wasn't in the right state of mind to be concerned about what was happening here. She was living inside her head, because of the fear of losing her so.