Melany Fellington is a young girl who lives in poverty in a changed world. She doesn't have what others have the room to have, but family made what she has more than enough. During substandard times of oppression, a fatal interference threatens her...
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(Friday, September 21st) (4:32 a.m.)
Regret. Such a large amount of regret surfaced above the certainty that I had that Melany and I would be safe, certainty that the peace of night would remain that way. Whether it be my son or Melany, I had certainty that in the Dark being's weakened state, they wouldn't attempt something sloppily out of their impatience, something so terribly reckless by taking a mother's child, by taking my child, without so much as thinking about what would unfold.
The favor of these events wrongly distributed itself upon me in my blinding increasing worries for Melany's worsening state. The words that she uttered into existence, terrified me, the words in her voice that had verbally let themselves out to me, 'I shouldn't be here, my mother should be.' ringing in my head in every second after my ears had heard them. And I could not feel or think of anything, but the severity of her grief, her grief that fixed her innocent mind into thinking that her life was insignificant, her life that I had felt her losing touch with in real time when her eyes involuntarily displayed her thoughts and feelings, her brown eyes that had displayed these feelings of shame that's grew to take her self-worth and her faithfulness in her natural worthiness of her life the moment that she was born.
When I saw that look in her eyes, I knew that she had needed someone to take her away from what she feels here, here where things and people can remind her of what she lost, and how she cannot avoid falling into a place of stillness. I had known that your pain can come hand in hand with any place of past and present, that your pain can be forever exhibited and altered into any form that can bring emotional harm to you, harm that can prevent you from healing the cause of it. If I had the capability to take her away from a place that reminds her of the events of her past, I would do so without thinking, without a second thought to possibly not help her heal when I know how not helping could devastate everything. I would do anything to help her, and when I took her to a place where I feel the most safe, I did help her without any way of critically determining what could happen as a result.
My blinded sense of thinking that was driven by worries had taken her to a place where true harm could inflict itself upon her, upon my family. But in taking Melany away, I had also taken myself away from a place where my sonwas only safewithmethere, and now that I wasn't there in the place where I was needed, I had brought in new dangers that could fabricate a future time where my son and I are not together, a time where I was a mother mourning the loss of her child.
And approaching times where the consequences of leaving my child unsafe, could now happen in the present. The faint muffled sounds of my son's screams was now heard by me, and the dropping feeling in my chest descended the more that his perturbed cries for his mother were heard, and the words of 'How could I have let this happen?' mentally spiraled inside of my head in a frantic pattern, my head that ached with concentration during my indescribable rushing speed towards the purposely suppressed screams of my son in my ears, the thick incessant burning in my eyes that flared with violent intent building the more that I could hear it.
