Fighting the Abuse

Once upon a time at midnight I would have just crawled into my dirty bed, in that place. If we were lucky we’d be left alone until the early hours. Throughout the day we’d have been tortured to an extreme level, sometimes to within an inch of our lives…or worse.  

Night time,we’d reunite and assess the damage.  Those still able to walk would organise buckets full of warm water. We’d gently lay down the broken ones on beds. By their head, children would gather.  They’d hold the poor child’s hand and soothe their tears as I cleansed their hideous wounds to prevent infection. We’d sing softly;  partly to hide our owm bitter sorrow, but also to calm their pain and reassure them. yyou’re still here, soldier.  You might only be 3 but my God you’ve made it through another day. You’re fighting this war heroically.

“hush now…my llittle darlings…

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