it was by his side that i lay, in a fetal position, with my chest burning. i could hear the screaming so clearly and the faint crying even clearer. i could feel the pounding of the walls inside of me as though my very insides were being shaken.
i begged for him to call someone, to go downstairs and do something. i whimpered as my memory took me back to being twelve and everything spinning around me. i vividly remembered the shaking ground, the burning legs and shattered glass. i remembered the bruises on the neck and scars on the legs. but he said it was none of my business, that i couldn't know for sure.
please, i said. we can help.
i got dressed and ran outside barefoot, the cold concrete an immediate relief to my burning body. i ran downstairs but halted immediately at their door. standing there with no real plan, no ideas, just emotions. i peered through their kitchen window, tears dried-on by the breeze. their dark living room offered but a meager insight into the truth within their walls. i could barely see her left leg as she lay across the hallway, motionless.
the crying got increasingly faint as she fell asleep in the hallway and i stood there, watching like some twisted guardian of her safety.
i watched the sunrise off of sawtelle and slowly walked back up to our unit, as if sunlight itself would protect her from harm. though fully knowing that sometimes those scars never truly heal.
