She was 3, when her mother first left. It was just them two, against the world. Her mother said she were going to a meeting, in America, but then shdidn't’t know it was a lie, shdidn't’t know that her mum could deceive her and be ok with it. Shdidn't’t know what her mum were doing; shdidn't’t know where her mum was. She stayed with a stranger but how was she supposed to understand. she learnt how to read a new book and she was trembling with excitement to see read it to her. When the stranger told her, her mum was coming home she remembers not being able to stop smiling. she remembers when she came home with a medal, she thought, wow that must’ve been some meeting. But that was when she was 3…

She was 7. All the curiosity had built up inside of her, of how her mum got the scars, how whenever she asked what the meeting was about her mum looked at the floor with a gloomy look on her face. Since she got back how detached she was. she was a dancer now, she took out the anger and mystery with twirls and worrying more about footwork, oh how the music flowed through her making her skin shiver, how shdidn't’t miss a beat, never. She got home one day and her mum, well she was holding a letter… I guess it was time for another ‘meeting’ shdidn't’t question it then, back when the truth was just a rule not life.

Growing up forever more she was now 11, she now knew what the meetings were. How her mum was a hero, how her mum saved lives. But she was now terrified of the ‘meetings’ she knew that they were war, she no longer lived a life of curiosity, she sat all day alone in her bedroom, thinking, her brain rattling and screaming for a release, she kept dreaming, about the guns, about the blood that would poor from the shots, how the explosion would ring out her ears and the light blind her, the bodies who once had families of their own, lay there silently, victims of war. Her mum couldve been a victim of war… now when her mum came home with the letter, that one letter that made her feel like she got shot in the heart, that would tear her mum away from her once more, just for death. She fell to the floor in tears and the pain was unbearable, she tried to walk it off that day. The only thing that would clear her head… but oh how dumb was she, when she walked out on to the road without doing the big 3. Shdidn't’t that would be her fatal tragedy, when she thought that the bombs and guns were her worst enemy. Her last breath was one of horror when she saw her own face in the car mirror. That day she was trying to be calm and happy as could be, skipping along, her face so jolly. When she skipped her hair danced in the wind, oh how could someone perform such a sin, oh how dumb was she.