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SURVIVORS STORIES

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LITTLE GIRL ME I look around and I see a little girl. She is frightened, scared. She is shaking like I have never seen before. I reach out and ask the little girl what is wrong. She just shakes her head at me, and looks off into nothingness. I wonder what her nothingness consists of. She looks so despondent and afraid. I want to hold her and tell her it will be okay. But she seems so far away. She is hard to reach, I sense. I look closely, and she takes a quick peek at me. She looks like she wants to confide in me, but it is as if she feels I can’t protect her. She looks away quickly. I ask her again, "What is wrong, dear?" I know what is wrong. I can feel it in her. I reach out and hug her. She tells me to go away. "Leave me alone!" I won’t leave her alone. I can’t. I know what she is feeling, and I feel it deep inside of me. I reach out to her again, but she pushes me away. I want to help her, but I don’t know how to. She is so scared. She looks fragile. She smiles because she thinks I will quit asking her what is wrong. I know better. I tell her I can help her. She asks if I could protect her. I ask "What from, my dear?" She runs away, scared that she has let me in on her secret. I follow her and watch her with a close eye. She frantically looks as though she is trying to hide from something…somebody. I look too, and think I can see what she is running from. It is me. I cannot protect her. I cannot help her, for I can’t even help myself. I begin to frantically look around too, for I feel something hanging over both of us. A dark shadow is encompassing us. I run and I try to get her, but she runs farther, faster. I am scared now. The dark is enveloping me and she fades into nothingness. I push and I prod and I see her again. She is huddled in a corner, hugging herself. She is crying. I look at myself, for I am crying, too. I reach out to her again. She looks up at me and says, "What is wrong, my friend?" I gasp, unbelieving that this child could know how to help me. I have tears streaming down my face, but I take a deep breath. "You can help me by being with me," I tell her. She asks why I want her to be with me. She is so innocent, yet so hurt. She says, "My friend, do you not recognize me? How could you forget about me?" I gaze into her eyes and they are familiar. They are my eyes, with my tears. I reach out and I hold her. We, together, are one. We feel the same pain. I suddenly realize that she was running from me because she was me. I am shaking. We are shaking. The tears will not quit pouring down our face. She is so little, so kind. Innocence long forgotten in a time where innocence should be coveted. I reach down and take her face in my hands. "You are such a loving and deserving child. You do not need to run anymore. I will protect you. I will protect me." We turn and walk away, hand in hand.