Kill Your Darlings

Kill Your Darlings

She supposed that there might be other ways of dealing with the situation. How did her life become a ‘situation’? When did all the hopes and expectations slip away and when were they replaced with the horror of this situation? If there were other ways she couldn’t think of them, so cold and wet was she, she knew that never again would she be warm.

The sound of the firing was somehow embedded into her sleep tortured brain. Every time she closed her eyes she saw them coming towards her and the screams of her friends would forever ricochet round her mind. She had laid still, her little ones tucked in tightly, their ashen bodies tense with fear. She had felt his hands on her and she had known that fight was useless. He forced her rigid body flat and she let go of her hold on the two little people.

He had done what all his squad was doing; she was so numb that she didn’t have to try hard to shut herself off from his bestial act. She made herself; for those few brief moments, think only of a day when everything would be better. When the pain would be gone and the light would replace the dark.

She lay still and gathered her little ones back to her side. They were too hungry and cold to cry anymore. They could barely whimper. Their skin was wrinkled and torn, their bellies bloated, their bones showing through their joints. She thought back to the lovely days of their home. The warmth, the comfort, the lovely food and her darlings so beautifully dressed, running around and happy. Their chubby little bodies so smooth. Her husband, her aloof, clever, important husband, would spend time with them when he could. Life hadn’t been the same since he had gone. The money had stopped and the country had changed. She knew she had to leave but had no idea how to do it. The last of their savings had gone to pay for the boat. Their few possessions in bags were all she had.

Now they were stuck in this camp. She didn’t know where she was or if she was ever leaving. The hunger was awful, her guts hurt and her head was vague and painful. The wet was everywhere; she had long since given up changing or washing. She was cold and so tired. Thankfully her periods had stopped, she knew she wouldn’t be able to deal with that.

The first time she had been raped she had cried for days. But now it happened so often that she hardly noticed, it seemed to count for nothing.

She knew now that her days were numbered. She could feel her body stopping. It was shutting down. She hadn’t opened her bowels for days, just a few strong smelling wees were all she managed. The children were the same, their little bodies slowly stopping. She didn’t remember when they last ate. Her mouth was so sore, she doubted if she could anyway.

She dozed fitfully and woke as the sun rose. The two little bodies barely stirred. She couldn’t look at them anymore, she just held them close. She knew that today was the day that the misery would end. Before the sun went down it would all be over.

She felt the gun in her hand, comforted by its cold steeliness; today was the day that she would do the kindest thing she could for all three of them