She wakes, dazed but alarmed. There are loud noises, voices. Then a large crack followed by silence. Waking in the morning showed no evidence of the night’s sounds. So was it a dream? She goes around her day. Then a visit to the incinerator confirms her dream. The broken record player, cracked. Not concealed well.
The lady asks the girl to stay with her after school. The innocent agrees without hesitation, especially when she realises her dad will be coming. They say things like, your mum is staying at grandma’s, but there’s no indication of when she will be home. Life carries on, with no sign. Then, there she is months later, stirring something on the stove, perhaps dinner. One hand bandaged. She’s broken like the car she rolled 13 times over in. Her eyes sad. Staring. You know those moments in life when you function but only for breathing. You become a person you no longer know.
I thought I understood life until I didn’t.
#healingthroughwriting
