I am writing this in honor of Child Abuse awareness month. I was inspired by the music video for Martina McBride's "Concrete Angel" I will warn you, you will hate me when you finish reading this. I hated myself after I finished writing this, but something keeps telling me not to delete it.
If you, or you suspect someone else, is suffering from child abuse, report it. It could save a life.
V_V_V
A little blonde haired girl quietly shut her front door so as to not make a sound, least she wake her father.
He hadn't been the same since her mother had left, and never come back, leaving her husband and only child behind. Most nights he went out and tried to drink away the memory of his wife's face, only to be reminded when he came home every time he looked into his daughter. She was the spitting image of her mother.
But little six year old Serah didn't understand that. She only knew that Mommy left, and now Daddy went out every night, and when he came home he always smelled funny, yelled, and hurt her.
She had tried really hard to wash away yesterday's mustard stain from her shirt. Daddy didn't do laundry, and besides, this shirt made sure to hide all the bruises anyway.
She had a Scooby-Doo backpack, inside was her homework from yesterday, an apple, and a juice box.
It was all she would be eating that day as well.
She looked up at the sky and sighed.
"Mommy, why can't you come home?" she asked no one and continued her way to school, but that didn't mean that no one heard her.
A man clothed all in black, his skin the color of ash, and his hair black as ink watched the little girl trudge off to school.
He remembered when the little girl's eyes would shine bright with hope and wonder, and her voice would be full of laughter.
For all his wanting to rid the world of these things, to see them removed so abruptly, he wasn't expecting the repercussions.
He decided to follow her, he had nothing better to do, no one believed in him, and so, he too made his way to her school.
V_V_V
Serah's teacher was not oblivious.
She could tell something was off about Serah. She hardly said a word anymore, and the teacher could tell that Serah was wearing yesterday's clothes, but she didn't say a word.
She had asked before and Serah would just smile and say that nothing was wrong, and that she was just sleepy because she didn't go to bed like she was suppose to the night prior.
How was she to know that Serah didn't have a choice in how late she had to stay up? The black cloaked man watched on, as this little girl, who was far stronger than she looked, lied to the woman who could possibly save her.
He watched on as the woman who could save the little girl allowed herself to be lied to, and silently seethed at the injustice.
Yes, he wanted to bring fear to children, but this was a different kind of fear. This was a fear that no child should ever have.
No child should ever fear for their lives because of their parents.
V_V_V
Serah went home, and cleaned the house as best as she could, did her homework, and then tried to crawl under her bed to hide while she slept, as futile an endeavor as that had become.
The black cloaked man watched from her closet, as the little girl tried to seek shelter in a place that terrified other children, but not her.
What did these petty fears mean, when she lived a nightmare every moment she was home?
V_V_V
Serah knew the instant her father came home. He slammed the door shut and yelled for her to come down.
Instead Serah cowered under her bed, and hoped that he wouldn't find her.
He came up the stairs, and slammed open the door, making her jump, and she covered her mouth to hold back her cries of fear and shock.
He immediatly went over to the bed, and shouted for her, before flipping her entire bed over, revealing the small girl, that only seemed to grow smaller as she curled in on herself.
The black cloaked man was forced to do nothing but watch, as the one man that the little girl was suppose to count on to protect her did exactly the opposite. He knew that the neighbors had to have heard, but they did nothing.
He could do nothing, the man was past the point of believing in him, and even then, he was not the same force to be reckoned with that he once was. He cursed his fate as he watched her cry and beg for her father to see reason, to stop the madness.
If only he could do something.
Only when the girl's father left did he step out of the shadows. Serah hurt all over and she barely had the strength to open her eyes when she felt as if she was no longer alone in her room. She looked up expecting to her father. Instead, she saw the Boogieman.
"H-Hello M-M-Mister Boogieman... are you here to scare me?" She asked.
The black cloaked man stopped and shook his head.
"Good... because I don't think you scare me anymore." She said.
"Oh? And why not?" The man crouched down to her level and brushed her hair out of her face, trying not to show alarm at how shallow her breathing was, or the blood staining her hair pink.
"'Cause... The real world is scarier than dreams... you can wake up from a dream, and it's gone... You're safe... But the real world won't go away." The answer shocked him. It was far more knowledgeable an answer than he expected from a six year old.
Neither one said anything for a while, and he was about to stand and take his leave, when a small hand fit into his.
"M-Mister Boogieman?" Her voice had become almost unreasonably faint, as if she was about to go to sleep at any moment.
"Hmmm?" He hummed as he bent closer.
"C-Can you sing me to sleep? I...I'm scared to go..." Once more, the little girl's knowledge of what was happening to her surprised him, and even he was not so heartless as to deny this request.
And if there was a stinging in his eyes as he did it, well, he wouldn't tell anyone if she didn't.
Sing me to sleep And then leave me alone
Sing me to sleep
I'm tired and I
Want to go to bed
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
Don't try to wake me in the morning
'Cause I will be gone
Don't feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I will feel so glad to go
He had sat on her floor fully, and cradled her in his arms as he sang, his deep voice comforting the child, rather than frightening her like it had done to so many other children. Sing me to sleep Don't feel bad for me Sing me to sleep There is another world There is another world
Sing me to sleep
I don't want to wake up
On my own anymore
Sing to me
Sing to me
I don't want to wake up
On my own anymore
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I really want to go
Sing me to sleep
There is a better world
Well, there must be
there must be
There is a better world
He sat and rocked her as she slept, until he felt her exhale for the last time. He placed her body back on the ground, and looked to see her eyes closed, and a smile on her face, like there should have been all along.
He stood, and walked back into the closet, just as the first beams of sunlight were making their way into the room.
And if there were tears streaming down his face as he did all of these things, well, he wouldn't tell if she didn't.
V_V_V
Pitch Black did not visit graveyards. He did not care for the dead. But this time he made an exception.
He stood beneath an oak tree, the moon at his back, illuminating the words as he read them.
Serah Valentine
A bright young life cut to short, you will be missed.
April 9th 2005- February 3rd 2011
Pitch laid down the white rose he had brought, and stared up at the stone angle that stood guard over her grave.
She would have been eight today.
He turned to the moon.
He couldn't begin to count the number of times he had asked the man in the moon where he had been, where his precious guardians had been, as this little light had been snuffed out before its time.
As always, he got no answer.
For there was no answer. There was no excuse for this kind of violence. He spread fear, yes. He made children realize that things were not always as they seem, and that not everything out there was good, but a six year old girl? It should never have happened. She should never have learned that lesson so soon.
And the man in the moon wasn't to blame, Pitch knew that. He knew he was just projecting his anger on to his old foe, because otherwise, who could he blame? There were thousands of Serahs, all over the world. Some lived on to become adults, others, were not so lucky.
How could any of the Guardians claim to protect children, when the reality of this violence was still all around?
It wasn't fair, and Pitch didn't know what to do.
One day old friend, you may be able to stop it.
It had been a long time, but Pitch still knew the voice of his old adversary.
"How? How can I protect children from their parents? Their parents are suppose to protect them from me!" He fired back.
You must find the answer for yourself Pitch, I cannot tell you. A solution is meaningless without the journey it took to find it.
Pitch was angry, but knew that the moon would tell him no more, and so he turned his back on the moon and once more turned to the stone angle that was the only sign that the once happy girl had even walked on this earth.
"I will find a way then, not for the moon, but for you Serah. I will avenge you." He said, placing his hand on the stone grave of a child that the world had forgotten.
He strode away, already wracking his mind, trying to think of a way to save the Serahs of the Earth.
And the moon looked on, not saying a word, but silently supporting the man on his mission, and wishing for his success.
V_V_V
And there we have it.
Do you hate me? Because I still do...
But I say we support Pitch in his endeavor to rid the world of child abuse.
Go Pitch Black!
Thank you for reading this, as always, reviews are welcome.
Thank you, and have a nice day.