Stay quiet my dear, don't move. Don't rip those bandages off your skin, let the wounds heal, I beg you. Stay there, be silent, be calm. The cuts, bruises and beatings will go away with time. They will fade away, I promise. The blood will be washed off the sheets and the furniture will be ammended. The memoirs will fade, the tears will dry. The night is over. the storm has passed. The night where all the windows broke. Where the ranging wind swept through the kitchen, turning over the chairs and tables. It smashed all the dishes, threw down the pot of flowers and tore apart the curtains. Then the rain soaked the carpet and ruined the electronics. That little rain came down in torrents and swept away all the photos and books. Cold, it was so, so cold. The mirrors frosted over and shattered. The heater broke down, whimpered on a long, long note and gave out. My love, your frost bites will heal, along with the burns from the fire. Some elecrtical spark, a trivial thing gave birth to that raging monster. It moved from room to room, turning everything into ash. The wind fed it and caressed in into maturity. Nothing could stop it, not even the rain and so it came upstair. It stepped into the room and ignited the bed. You tried to run but the frozen beaten house caved in around you, my dear. A trapped animal, you had to take on the storm, the fire, the wind. Now my sweatheart, tell me this, how did you escape? What guardian angel stood by your side and kept you alive? The storm should have killed you, but no, here you are wrapped up in bandages, licking your wounds. Don't rip the bandages my dear. Don't talk, my dear, forget the memories, forget the storm at night.
