There he was, the one that will cause my death. I have relived my death over and over, again and again. He comes toward my tiny curled up body. I can’t help but whimper. I knew even then that I was about to die. I was too small to defeat him. I was too scared to create a distraction. He walks toward me slowly, his black cloak flowing with the little breeze that came through the tiny window. I was trapped. There was nothing I could do. He wore a hood. Under his cloak he wore all black. All I saw of him was his pale boney hands. I couldn’t scream. I was too afraid. One of his hands reached into his pocket and pulled out a bloody knife. The same knife he use on my parents. One minute he was about two feet away. The next he was right in front of my face. Then I felt pain. It was too much for me to take in. I screamed, or I tried to. nothing came out. Then darkness came to claim me. I was crying by then. I was so scared of the dark. I don’t know why. I don’t want to know why. I just want the memory to fade. I want peace. Why can’t I find the peace I've searched for so long?
YOU ARE READING
The Little Girl
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