Title: Safe
Summery: Phoebe likes her world how it was. With her mummy and her daddy always with her. Phoebe doesn't like the white room. Phoebe wants to be safe. And she just wants her mummy and her daddy back, but all she sees is ashes. Ashes and fire. Fire that burns. Burns that never heal. And Phoebe only wants to heal her family.
Safe.
I want to be safe.
But I'm not. Mummy's dead. I know that. People think since I'm seven, I don't know anything. No. I know Mummy's dead. She's not moving, and neither is my Daddy.
I cant call out. My voice hurts. Everything hurts. I manage to squeak out a "mummy? Daddy?' but no reply reaches my ears. No soft fingers grab my hand. No peppermint breath hits my face. They're dead.
The house is rubble. There is dust and blood coating my favourite boots. The boots Mummy and Daddy got me. I hear people fighting in the park, but I cant move.
When they came, the lady pushed me down the stairs. I can't feel my legs, but I know there not supposed to bend that way.
I'm scared. The people then appear around me. The rubble and ash makes them cough and splutter, but they still come inside. They haven't found me yet. Its been 6 minutes and I don't think they see the cellar. I'm in the cellar. Mummy and daddy are up at the top. I see their bodies through holes in the cover. I close my eyes, its too dark. I like it better when I make it dark.
I open them slowly and clench them shut.
Light. I can't move. "Hello? Anyone down here?" I see a blonde haired man climb down the stairs and freeze. He sees me. But I can't see him anymore. My eyes are closed. Does he feel the fire too? Does he feel the ache too? I feel it.
He picks me up, and I feel myself being squeezed through a tube. It;s too much. I think I am just going to have a nap.
I woke up now. I'm in a room with men and woman. They are making potions. A red haired lady comes to me and says it will be fine. I don't like it.
The lady walks away. I want the other man back. The other man didn't look like he would lie to me. They're taking me to another room now. It has a bed, and its not soft.
Its not how I like it. I like my beds squishy. Mummy and daddy know that. I like my beds with blankets. Mummy and Daddy know that.
I don't like it here. People visit me all day. I don't like it when they try to make me talk to them, or try to make me tell them where my nearest relative lives.
I don't like it.
I don't like it.
I want my Mummy and Daddy back.
I want to be safe.