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You have no idea how I
feel! Go away!
But Hayden didn’t hear. How could he hear if the words were
not spoken?
Robyn could hear the muted voices downstairs and a soft
lullaby soothing the cries of a newborn baby girl. She heard many different
voices floating through her home and many, many feet padding gently up and down
her stairs. She was aware of the kindness they were all trying to show. She
appreciated the cups of tea, the scented candle, the single rose, but she knew
that they were not aware how much she appreciated them.
At night she tossed and turned. She flung her arms around
Hayden then violently pushed him away. She slept, dreamlessly, only to wake in
a quiet, darkened room, tired.
Robyn stretched her arms above her head and touched the red
velvet headboard with fingertips which recoiled, as if they had eyes that
recreated the moment of pain, blood.
No-one understood.
Moments of recollection, when her lips moved to explain the pain or ask
for help, melted like ice in hot coffee, and no-one was there to see her eyes
beg for contact – touch me!
Robyn tried desperately to grab hold of those lucid moments;
to freeze them until Hayden knelt next to her, with tears of deep, deep love
soaking his shirt. She needed to melt her moments in his tears, she needed to
touch his face.
The blackbird chirped, indifferent to human pain. The buses, lorries, and cars all swished beneath the window undisturbed by the
pain behind closed curtains. Why should they care? Who were they to care?
Robyn took a deep breath. The baby girl cried. The voices
grew louder. The sirens faded.
(Writing Prompts http://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/)