I immediately dropped the bags on the table and looked for a note of which there was none before going to the phone and ringing Signora Bellini's number. It rang for some time before she answered. "Pronto?"

"It's Lia. Is everything okay with Nonna?"

"We are at the hospital. I was in the other room for only a minute. I didn't think anything would happen."

"Wait. Is she okay?"

"I do not know. I think she was trying to go to the door, and she fell. She hit her head rather hard, so I called the ambulance. I do not understand why she would be going towards the door. I never heard anyone knock, and there was no one there when I found her. It was so quiet. I didn't even hear her fall or say a word."

Taking a deep breath, I said, "It's okay. It's not your fault. I'll be there in a few minutes."

I hung up the phone, trying to calm myself but at the same time knowing that I had only been waiting for something such as this to happen. It was not as if I was not already prepared for it, but if grandma hit her head, in her already not so stable condition, there was no telling what that would mean.

I had picked up nothing that required refrigeration, so I left the house, locking the door behind me and grabbed my cousin's bike once more before speeding off to the hospital. When I arrived, I was ushered down the hall where my grandma lied, her eyes closed softly, Signora Bellini sitting at her side. Nonna looked peaceful, but the worst of it all was the ventilator.

"The doctors said that they are going to run more tests, but she appears to be in a coma."

"A coma…" I took a deep breath letting the information sink in before I went to the other side of the bed and took grandma's hand. "Nonna? Can you hear me? It's Liliana." There was no response. "You're so tired, aren't you? It's okay, Nonna. Just sleep now, alright? I'll be here when you wake up."

The nurses came in soon after to take her to do the scans, and while she was away, I waited silently. I could tell Signora Bellini felt terrible over the ordeal, but I honestly did mean it when I said it wasn't her fault. Some things were difficult to prevent. I was more grateful that she had been there when it happened rather than Nonna being at home alone and lying there the entire time until I returned. It was hard to place blame on anyone with the situation, even myself, as I kept thinking it could happen any day.

Nonno was a shock. It came so sudden. We all assumed grandma would go first given her health, so when grandpa passed away, no one knew what to say. As for myself, although I loved him dearly for the past memories we shared, I tried so hard to be sad, but I couldn't. I only wished that I had the opportunity to know him more.

His death had been strange, not even an autopsy, which was highly unusual given the circumstances. They had immediately ruled it death by natural causes, but what was natural about an otherwise healthy man suddenly passing away in his office? I tried not to question it. There must have been a reason for it to be decided so quickly without a further look.

The scans didn't take quite as long as I had thought they would, and Nonna was brought back in not much later. The doctor did not look well, and I asked what he saw. Nonna apparently hit her head harder than we thought, and although there was no hemorrhaging, she did suffer from a severe traumatic brain injury. He said they would continue to monitor her condition, but at this moment, they had seen no brain activity. He wanted to rule out any other explanation that could perhaps make the tests unreliable, but, and he made sure we were all sitting at this time, given the situation at hand, he had concluded her to be completely brain dead.

Signora Bellini immediately burst into tears upon the diagnosis. Although she was new to working with grandma at home, she had worked with grandma at the clinic for years. My mind shut down. I had been prepared, but not so sudden. Again, so sudden.

The doctor gave his apologies for the news and said that both of my grandparents had a DNR, and when I was ready, they would turn off the ventilator. I stood up, completely lost. Again, I felt no real grief, a feeling I judged immensely at this moment. On the other hand, I did feel utter confusion over the circumstances of these events. Signora Bellini had not heard Nonna fall, and there had been no reason for her to be going to the door. Nonno had mysteriously passed away when he had been the image of good health, and no autopsy was even completed. Those two things were not adding up.

I stayed there overnight, contemplating what I wanted to do. The doctors would turn off the machine soon enough, and I would be the one left with all the arrangements and the attorneys and the mystery at hand. It was too much for one person to handle. I was barely an adult the way it was, but my parents would have cared less about helping out.

At 2:53pm, they turned off the ventilator, and Nonna was pronounced dead. Apparently, the arrangements had been made a few years ago by my grandfather. They had set everything up together for them both. I had a call from Nonno's attorney who stopped by the hospital to talk me through the will and sign off on the papers. He also informed me of the arrangements that had been made and got in touch with the funeral site director to schedule the service. Signora Bellini contacted friends of the family and submitted the obituary that had been written by my grandfather to the news circulation.

Although I had planned to meet Demetri at the city hall on Monday, the news had gotten around to everyone, so I assumed he'd not be expecting me. I did not see him again until the services on Wednesday, which he attended, once more with Chelsea. As at Nonno's funeral, the skies were lightly crying, grieving for me the loss I could not feel but also the loss that I had that came from not feeling the need to grieve for the grandparents I loved but never got to watch me grow up into the person I was now. To me, that was the tragedy in this.

They both spoke to me as the services ended, and I thanked them once again for coming out. Demetri's expression this time was different than the prior. He seemed almost detached. Perhaps he thought it was strange as I did, their deaths only a week or so apart.

"If you need anything," Chelsea spoke, "please let us know. You know how to find us."

I felt myself quickly warming up to her, and I nodded. "Thank you."

I went home to an empty house, a house that was now mine. Thankfully, my grandparents didn't keep much around in the ways of trinkets or furniture. I wouldn't have much to go through. Somehow, it seemed wrong. Everything about the past few days had seemed wrong. I could not figure out what could have happened and replayed scenarios over and over again in my mind.

When I finally fell asleep, the dream I had was very vivid. I recognized the setting quickly. It was March 19, 2006, and I was seven years old. I had begged my parents to take me to the festivities for St. Marcus' Day, and they agreed, stating that perhaps I was old enough to participate. Although they never believed the stories that my grandfather told, the festival was still a part of Volterra's heritage.

I saw the people in the alley arguing, the two with cloaks, the two females and the male whose skin reflected like shards of glass. I watched them, and this time, I caught the face of the man in the darker of the grey cloaks. My breathing became shallow as I walked towards him until I could make out his face perfectly. My heart pounded, knowing I had met him somewhere before.

Waking up in a panic was not familiar to me, and it took me a moment to find my surroundings again. I shook my head. "That's not possible." But I knew what I saw, and I knew I had seen that exact same face then as I had a decade later. Demetri and I had met before, and he had not aged a day. That meant there was no possible way he could be human.