The innocence spoke through the eyes.
She didn’t have a clue.
Confusion spoke through the eyes too.
This wasn’t normal.
Hesitation spoke too.
Was she supposed to stop this?
Would she be able to?
She was a child and he was so huge.
The hands were strong and sturdy.
The intentions were clear too.
The eyes searched for the familiar.
The nice lady was nowhere to be seen.
Pain spoke through the eyes now.
He was hurting her.
Fear spoke through the eyes now.
She worked up a scream.
No sound came.
But the nice lady was there!
She detached herself.
And ran outside the waiting room.
“There you are!”
The mother caught her outside.
No answer came.
“I got your chips. Look!”
No hand came up to take it.
“I’m hurt,” she said, “He hurt me.”
The mother dropped on her knees to see.
The eyes full of concern.
She kept quiet.
The mother coerced more.
Gathering courage, she motioned.
Thinking that mother didn’t understand,
She motioned again.
Silence. A pause.
Then: “Hush, child!”
She was hurt,
Not physically this time.
“Don’t let your father hear this!”
The tears spilled on her cheeks.
What had she done? Was she wrong?
She kept asking herself this for years to come.
But she had learnt almost immediately
That she should keep silent.