He wasn’t coming back. The finality of it hit and hot tears welled, the blindfold growing soggy once more. Her head thumped and now that the blood had dried, the side of her face felt pinched and hard. She couldn’t feel her legs.

In the beginning she could kick away the ants that swarmed, but now she imagined them converging, all those creatures crawling over helpless limbs. From somewhere in the scrub, a bird gave a long, drawn-out cry. She knew at that moment she would die, and she waited for the bird to cry again. If only it would cry, she thought. Then she would not feel so lonely, it would not be so bad. Please cry again, bird, she whispered, aloud or in her head. It was hard to raise any moisture in her mouth and she couldn’t have shouted if she’d tried. Her breathing slowed. The time for screams was over and the world became quiet and still.

She thought of her family and her home, so far away. With a deep sadness, she felt a yearning to tell the world that once she had existed. She wanted to write her name in the sky so that everyone could see it. She wanted someone to read her name. The urge to do so became overwhelming and the pounding in her head thumped with the words: My name, my name…

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