My Angel | lrh ✔️

•5 Years Old•

When Jenny was five, she fell over and scraped her knee.

She came into the house crying, clutching her leg with a look of absolute pain on her face. I shot up my comfortably position on the roof, making my way to her as her mother scolded her for making such a fuss.

I remember her wailing, sitting on the countertop of the kitchen with blood dripping down her leg. I sat next to her, my arm draped across her shoulder as I asked her gently what happened.

She told me about this little boy at the park, who pushed her off the swing and made her fall onto the hard gravel path below. I clenched my fists, wanting nothing more than to go down there and find the kid myself.

Then her mother placed a couple of plasters across her cuts, her movements harsh and borderline painful. I watched as the little girl winced, but refused to say anything in fear of being scolded again.

Once her mom's back was turned, I helped her off of the kitchen counter, being careful not to hit her knee against anything.

She asked me to come with her to the park after that, because she didn't want to be alone. So I did.

I stayed with her that day. And I found myself caring for this little girl with the plasters on her knee and the dried up tears on her cheeks way more than I have ever cared for anyone.