From a deep slumber , she awakens . Weakness is seen but a small fragment of strength, I know, is felt . With every blackout , with every strikeout , she comes out of it . She barely survives .
It all started with a little less . Just a little . Fasting gone wrong . Her starved limbs hung over the bed lifeless . Her eyes heavily lifted as I checked her vitals . Her heartbeat was beating faintly in the distance . To think she brought this on herself . A need to be better , to be loved , to fit in . Such a young soul full of spirit . A life cut short by the influence of judgmental eyes of jealous females who are scared of being in their own skins .
The night did smell bitter . The dead cold hallways , fearful . The walls silent . Echoes of whispering sorrow scream through the walls , leaving me distracted . So much pain lies here . Dim lights that seem to be short circuiting , flickering to the floor . I can't sleep. My thoughts are on her .
Early hours of the morning are the most significant . The warmth of the sunrise burst through my office window leaving me breathless . Gobbling down a moist doughnut and a hot cup of coffee is just what I needed .It pains me to enjoy food like this when she can barley hold down a single bite . Opposed to her I am digging my grave with my knife and fork . Eating excessively will consume me whereas a lack thereof will consume her .
I did my rounds . Checking on patients from strongest to weakest . The nurse hauled her out of bed for a quick bath . Her robe loosened accidentally revealing her bare back . The nurse quickly pulled it upend turned around facing me awaiting my reaction . I was paralyzed in the doorway . My eyes wide fixated on her skeletal figure . I feel a cold stream of tears tumbling down my hysterical face . I never cry but this is heart breaking . A child . A twelve year old child is meant to embrace her unique build and is not meant to look like she was caught in the coarseness of the worst kind of poverty .
I need a quiet space to just wallow in my sorrow . I lock myself in the janitors closet where my only company was a few rags , a lonely broom leaning against a bucket , and piles of workers overalls . I bury my head between my knees and sobbed until my face burned . My thoughts drifted uncontrollably to her unnecessary suffering .
My daughter , Audrey , which means strength , had finally found peace . Her heart , which was trapped , was slowly unchained and set free . People say that when you look in the mirror , you see reality .The mirror doesn't lie .. or does it ?