That's so sad
.
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| Just Another Argument http://www.the-cbb.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=14&t=5799 |
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| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ 08 Mar 2009, 21:19 ] |
| Post subject: | Just Another Argument |
I shall tentatively post this here, although please feel free to move Mods! Er, it is depressing again, but I honestly can't help it! Depressing plot bunnies are the General Woundwort of my warren. Sorry. - X - She cowered quietly in her corner, doing her best not to look over the ridge of her knees. She knew what she would see if she did, and she didn’t want to see it. For just one night she wanted to go to bed and shut her eyes without seeing that image, without having to listen in case the crying started, from her mother or her sister. It was her job to look after both of them, she left her brothers to themselves. They could look after each other, but her sister needed her and she had to do what she could. The fact that her sister was so new, so precious and tiny, only heightened her fears for her. There was nobody but her, because her father and mother were arguing again, and she only sat there, covering her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Cutting through the tension in the room, a tiny, thin wail from upstairs told her that her sister needed her, that she had to go at once and save her. If her father heard, great would be the retribution, and it would be her fault, all her fault. She couldn’t save her mother, but there was still a little hope in her that she could protect her sister. Slowly she unfurled her legs, knowing that she mustn’t be spotted. Clearly her mother had heard the pitiful wail too, though her father, lost in his anger, hadn’t yet. Her mother lunged forwards at him, distracting his attention from the door long enough for her to slip out. Part of her wanted to stay, in case she was some small consolation for the violence still audible through the thin walls, but she knew that her mother would want her to go to her sister. Once she was up the stairs, which creaked and groaned even under her weight, she could hear the low sobs from her brothers’ room as well. She could also hear her elder brother telling the other to shut up, though it didn’t seem to be having much effect. And from the room next door, her parent’s room, those thin wails came again, pleading for attention, reassurance. The baby was tiny, still light enough for even her to lift, and she picked it out of the cot quietly, making shushing noises under her breath. By now she was experienced at holding children, at anticipating their wriggling and knowing what soothed them. She placed one tiny finger in the grasping hands which had escaped the blanket she was supposed to be wrapped in, pressing the frail body as close to her as possible, trying to offer reassurances and promises of things she could never give. Gradually the crying subsided a little to general grumpiness at having been awoken at such a late time of night. She smiled gently, humming a tiny lullaby as she shifted the burden to stop her arms from falling asleep. Soon, she was sure enough of herself to risk standing up, and although the motion made the baby turn her head in her sleep, she didn’t waken. The young girl pressed on, creeping towards the door. Many were the nights that she shared her bed with her sister, watched over her until dawn’s light brought relief. The noises from downstairs were slightly muffled in her room, at the opposite side of the house, and she could almost block them from her mind. She knew that she should check on her brothers, but it was all that she could do to muster up the energy to pull on her pyjamas, and tug a brush briefly through her hair. The baby lay silently on top of her duvet, comforted by her presence. She climbed in carefully, and pulled the baby underneath the duvet with her. Her mother didn’t like her doing that, she knew, but there was nothing else to be done, and she knew that soon she would be forgiven with a kiss and a smile. She had to cling on to that image, because it was all she had to stop her from thinking of what was happening downstairs. She began to sing to the baby in a determined manner, although she knew that it was only herself she would soothe. Slowly her eyes shut, until all that remained was the lingering noise of the shouting, and the objects being thrown, and the rest of her world was in a peaceful bliss. She could feel one tiny hand grabbing at a lock of her hair, gripping it to reassure itself of the security, she could smell her tiny baby sister. She would have been so peaceful, but for the noise downstairs. The terrifying reality became somehow less real as she opened her eyes quietly, to see the familiar, tender face above her, ready, this time, to comfort her. |
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| Author: | Lyanne [ 08 Mar 2009, 22:01 ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Just Another Argument |
Poor Daisy and Primula, and Margot and the boys. |
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| Author: | Fiona Mc [ 08 Mar 2009, 22:30 ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Just Another Argument |
Poor kids-and Margot. Austria must have been like a small piece of heaven after that |
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| Author: | Alison H [ 08 Mar 2009, 23:37 ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Just Another Argument |
Poor children, and poor Margot. |
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| Author: | leahbelle [ 09 Mar 2009, 14:32 ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Just Another Argument |
That's so sad .
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| Author: | Abi [ 14 Mar 2009, 20:38 ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Just Another Argument |
 That's so sad - poor Margot and Daisy.
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