Photography with a story

Mary Anne

The only sound left on the ash covered street was the crunch of gravel under mine and Mary Anne's feet.

"Keep moving." I whisper heatedly, "If they catch us we're dead for sure."

I watch emotionless as a tear escapes and trails down her face. It's too late to cry.

You can't cry over dead bodies and burned neighborhoods. It doesn't fix it. It never will... I would know.

Mary Anne was drug into this world half way through her life. My father decided I needed a companion to hang around with me and keep me out of trouble.

Problem is Mary Anne, comes from a troubling family. By troubling I mean, deadly.

So the whole purpose of another child to keep me out of trouble was therefore pointless.

Now I have to deal with a cry baby. Great.

"Sissy, do you think they'll catch us?" She says sniffling loudly.

My head snaps down to her, "Don't call me that. And only if you are quite." I hiss in her ear making her shut up.

This is why I wanted to be alone. No one gets their "feelings" hurt. Little girls are too fragile.

"Okay, Sissy." She says looking forward with sad eyes no longer crying.

I just sigh at the nickname I was given by my father for her. I despise it.

She pulls her braids around front, a habit she developed when she got nervous or upset.

I sighed again, wrapping my arm around her back.

"Truly, Mary Anne, I don't believe we will get caught. We've made it this long, we are practically unstoppable. So stop your blubbering, yeah?"

She looks up at me with a hopeful look in her eyes and envelopes me in a big hug, "I love you Sissy."

I tense at her words. I avoid feelings like the plague. Ever since this mess started.

I just release her from the hug and drag her down the ash covered street to the next place we would stop.

Which at the moment was undetermined. All I knew was Mary Anne had to be kept safe.

Even if it meant my life.

-A.G.