Thursday, 19 June 2014

VisDare: Restoration


A chilling scream breaks out and I whirl around and spot her, her chubby face contorted with horror, her mouth gaping wide. I rush to her and steer her away from the madness, from death.
"What's wrong with them?" She whispers beneath sobs. "Mommy and daddy," I reply and my voice catches in my throat. I don't know how to tell her, but she guesses. The intensity of her wails increase.
What do you say to six-year old? I can't tell her it'll be okay. Because it will never be okay. It'll never be the same. The tears will stop, yes. But like a dried up river, they will leave a meandering scar on your heart; of how things were and how they could be. 
I hold her close as she sobs and screams and finally weeps silently, exhausted and helpless. I can't 'fix' things for her, for us. But I can avenge. A plan forms.

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