Skye: Fragile Heart

[Skye]

(Coming)

[Skye]

It feels like a memory from another life—someone else’s life. Yet it feels so familiar, so comforting, that I reach out to it in times of stress or fear, and it comforts me.

I am on a blanket on the floor, and I am playing with a stuffed bear. Near me on one side is an older girl, plain but pretty, with large shining blue eyes and long light brown hair. She is reading a book, but watching me carefully over the top of the pages, making sure I don’t wander. I look at her and feel safe. I know she will make sure I am not hurt. But when she looks back at her book, suddenly I am attacked from behind. It is a boy, older than both me and the other girl. He takes my bear away and pinches me. I begin to cry loudly, and the girl drops her book and walks over to the boy, taking the bear away from him and giving it back to me. He begins to hit her, and she tries to fight back, but he pins her beneath him and holds her arms down. I begin to scream until two older people come running. As they do, the boy lets her go and she sits up and rubs at her face. The older woman picks me up and comforts me, while the man yells at the girl for upsetting me and fighting with the boy. The boy makes a face and goes away, and the woman puts me in the girl’s arms and tells her to put me to bed. The girl carries me upstairs to another room and sits in a rocking chair with me. She is crying, so I reach up and touch her face. I want to speak to her, but I am too young and don’t know how. Then she begins to sing softly to me, in a soft, sweet voice. She sings like an angel, and I feel very happy at the sound of her song. After a while, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, knowing that I am safe.

I remember so very little about my days with my family, but I remember this day. I remember how close I felt to the older girl, I think she may have been my sister. I wish I could remember more, like her name. I wonder if she thinks about me or misses me or is worried about me. I wish I could find her. The rest of my family I could live without ever seeing again, I think, but her… I would like to see her again. I hate to think that she might be crying over me. I never liked to see her cry.

I wonder how I can find her.