Your War, My War

- | Prologue | -

The low symphony of my heart was heavy in my chest. I never heard anything but my heart in the late of night. I feel my heartbeat rapidly inside of me. It felt as if my body was pulsating with it. The sound of my own heartbeat left me crying in my bed; warm, salty tears running into my ears. Other times, I enjoyed the everlasting sound of the small drum in my chest, counting each beat, holding my breath and experimenting. 

I lay awake in my bed, nose pointing to the ceiling. The ceiling that has become my only friend in this large, shared home. I followed the crevices and cracks in the ceiling and the wall. I huffed, Iooking around the room at the peacefully sleeping girls. Sleep was never a seamless occurrence for me. I'd roll around for hours in my sweat-covered sheets. When I was finally able to experience the feeling of refreshing rest that all the other girls do, it never felt refreshing. A burden is what it was. It felt worse to sleep, than to be awake the night's worth.  

I had no perception of time. Everything was approximated and estimated. The nearest clock was behind me, and I couldn't read it well in the dark. From the glow from the window, I assumed it was mourning. I reviewed the present in hope of keeping myself sane. 

Nineteen forty, August the first, or possibly the second. Currently the morning. 

It was a practice of mine. I had no dolls or cuddle toys to play with, just myself. Besides, my fingers made for fine toys. I could take them everywhere and anywhere. 

The morning never bored me. There was always something to do. Although, I wasn't allowed to wander since I was expected to be sleeping, I still got up and headed for the window. There was a large window at the end of the room. Although there were several, this specific one was not accompanied by sleeping children. I tip-toed toward it. I avoided creaky floorboards, leaning from foot to another. I didn't want to wake anyone. I didn't need to get blamed for anything. A wave of relief washed over me when I had finally made it over to the windowsill. Carefully, I moved the curtains away from the window. 

I looked down at the glistening streets. A few streetlamps illuminated the lonely roads. It was quiet. No one was awake. Expect me. I leaned on the windowsill, resting my hands upon it. I watched two birds happily fly and chase one another. I smiled at the interaction. 

I quickly turned it into a game, rooting for one over the other. When my bird got away with narrow escapes I silently cheered, balling my hand in a fist and raising it high.  My cheers ceased when my bird was caught, and I huffed and groaned silently. I nodded to their efforts, silently congratulating both of them for their excellent game. I turned form the windowsill with a final glance before returning back to my bed. The feeble bed creaked in pain as my weight distributed onto it. 

I bundled myself under the thin covers. I was like a caterpillar in its cocoon. I let the cold sheets around me warm itself with my body heat, until then I shivered unforgivingly. I would wait here to everyone was awake. When everyone would challenge on another day.