"Hold my hand?" she asks more as a plea.
I intertwine my fingers with her's, guiding her to follow the group of large men shielding us.
As the warm summer sun glows off her skin I look over at her. I wish the men in front of us could shield the sounds. The shouts and name calling to my sweet girl. They can't see the sadness in her heart or the fear in her smile. They don't even know her. The sorrow in her face is mimicked on mine.
I look over at him. "Sorry," he mouths. He shouldn't be sorry. The ones breaking her should be.
The black car we're now in blocks some of the sound, more than out there. But I know she can still hear them. They can't see us though. Can't see the way I stroke her hair, wipe the tears from her face, and try to kiss away the frown she holds.
One day that won't be enough. My love is all she wants, all I give her. Why don't they see that? I thought they care about me?
This playful game has turned to hate and all I need to win is her smile, but it looks like I'll lose.
