Wounds

Shut up.
Her screams always made me almost want to hurt her.
I love her too much, I want her to love me too.
This is honesty and it feels like being naked.
I will not shut up.
I could almost see how my words made her brain work, how my voice made her skin tingle from anger.
I know her all too well.
Do you love me?
She was asking for confirmation, but I could not give it, not now.
Of course I did.
But why that question?
What did it have to do with our argument?
I did not understand it.
Because I want to know if this is still worth it.
She was almost a women, but could be so child-like honest sometimes.
That has nothing to do with our argument.
Shut up.
She screamed again, an animalistic sound, and I was really trying to keep my cool but it kept getting harder.
I will not shut up.
Not now, never.
You will one day, trust me.
I knew what she was thinking of and I also knew she wanted me to be hurt.
It was a disease, a curse.
She was locked inside her own misery and I was unable to do anything about it.
Now Zara, you are a heroine.
You are the cure to each and every wound I have.
But seeing you hurt gives me more pain than wounds could ever cause.
Of course I love you.
I always have.


Zara is sixteen.
She is beautiful.
When I tell her she is, all she does is roll her eyes and continue whatever she was doing.
But she is the prettiest girl I have ever known or will know.
She is smart.
Oh, my Zara is so smart.
She is way better than I ever was or will ever be.
If only she realized before it is too late.
I would give my life without a second thought for her.
Mum?
I answer with a swift nod.
I do not want to die.
I feel tears making their way to my eyes, thirsty for air, to see the world.
The world is an illusion, but I would give anything to live this illusion a little longer.
I do not want you to die either honey.
I know.
Her voice.
It is so perfectly honest but I do not want it to sound this way.
Because honesty is sadness in our case.
Do not give up yet love.
Dare not die.
I love you.
Always have, always will.
As Zara falls asleep in my arms I treasure the feeling of maternity that overwhelms me.
I sat like this sixteen years ago.
I held her through every storm.
I have always protected her with all the strength that I have inside of me.
My arms start to hurt but it is okay.
I would do anything to protect her.
I want her to live.


Zara and I have been in the hospital for the past months.
The people here are kind and try their hardest to make us feel a little better but we all know it is all for nothing.
My daughter will not live to be seventeen.