the nurse looks at me, then at the stitches on the side of your head. there are twenty of them, and we both know we can't remove them without you protesting.
she looks at me again, as if asking permission to use anaesthesia. half-heartedly, i nod.
she picks up the syringe, and you anticipate what's happening.
we try to calm you, but you start shaking your head.
we hold you by your arms, because by now you seem so sure on running away.
and something inside me, wants to loosen the grip.
it wants you to run away,
far, far away from this place.
but i hold on tighter, as you start to scream. you look at me, we both unsure who is more scared.
"it's okay, it won't even hurt."
i say, as the needle goes deeper into your arm.
"it's' okay, it won't even hurt."
you start slipping into unconsciousness.
"it's okay, it won't even hurt."
i lie.
YOU ARE READING
broken crayons
Short Storystatus: completed. "running, running, running, screaming. tripping, falling, hurting, bleeding." a daughter's second chance at love. #itsnotaphase PUBLISHED NOW. AVAILABLE ON AMAZON AND FLIPKART ORDER NOW.
