Sorry

It's amazing how an ordinary object can be used as a tool of destruction. She entered the room with a cold sense of purpose. She reached for the sharp spike that she used for clay carvings. Her shirt fell to the floor and angry tears began to cover her cheeks. She carefully placed the tip of the spike on her stomach and began to scratch. The tears fell fast and the scratching continued until the mark was red, raw, and clear as day. Sorry.

Another Nightmare

More and more snow falls. As a child I spent hours buried deep, happy as could be. Now the bars prevent me from going anywhere. I can see the delicate white flakes fall softly through the tiny barred window. I can not feel resentment toward the glittering powder, even as it makes my quarters cold as death. I have spent too many beautiful days of youth being it's friend to be angry.

I am huddled in a corner, my ratty blanket wrapped around my shoulders. Toes peek out through holes in my socks. The fabric covering my knees is thin. I'm shivering from more than the cold, but nobody cares either way.

The horn sounds and the bars holding me in slide away. An armed man steps in front of me. He looks down upon me as if I am am unwanted parasite. He grabs me with a strong hand and pulls me up roughly. I clench my teeth, biting back the cries of the pain he inflicts on me. He pulls my hands in front of me and puts me in chains. I am thrown into a line of other people, men and women alike. They are bigger than me and no question as to their physical strength overpowering my own. I stand hunched over myself, dirty hair hanging down to my malnourished waist. They shove us forward like ranchers shove cattle. I stumble and they beat me. I close my eyes and let the crowd push me forward. I clench my fists and try to hold back tears, but the battle is lost. They see that I am crying and pull me out of the line.

I am shown no compassion. They take the opportunity humiliate me further. A tall strong man stares down at me with contempt and slaps my face, hard. I look up at him, still crying. He is disgusted with me. Full of anger and resentment, I spit in his face. He grabs my face tightly and throws me to the ground. Other guards laugh and the line of people moves faster, afraid of what may happen to them. I begin to pick myself up and I am kicked in the stomach. I am kicked again as I fall to the floor. Again and again, I can't hold it in. I am screaming of innocence, coughing, and sobbing openly. The butt of a rifle is slammed into my back. I cough louder and the floor is splattered with crimson. They take me outside and throw me in the snow as I scream over and over again the facts of my innocence.

The beautiful white snow is ruined by my blood. With all the strength I can muster I shout out, "I killed no one! They are the guilty ones