Based on an old true story.

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She whispered softly, like it was the first words she had said in a long time. “Please, forget me.  Don’t let my troubles bother you anymore.”

I sat up, her head falling off my shoulders, sliding to the pillow over my legs.

“No, don’t worry,”  I said, gently stroking her hair, worried that maybe I might be hurting her, that even I might add to her pain.

But she remained still, not shuddering, not shaking anymore.  I thought she could fall asleep, but only if she could be blessed so. For sleep would be such a wonderful drug for her.

But I sensed no rest from the tension . . her whole self a taut, strained muscle, always waiting, never halting, for pain.  Even her restful moments struggled with reality and its infinite worries.  Even reality could shatter any hopes for peace.

She didn’t sob, as though sobbing would only remind her of time when she could recall her loss.  Only an invisible eye could tell that her soul, though barren and barraged, pain shrouded and pain filled, was still hoping, still pulling for a bright new day.  It was all that made me wish she could see a star, an angel, a hope, that would say it was all right, sweet child, rest and all will be well.

I saw through the matted hair a piece of her ear. So curly and red and peach.  Like the side or wall of a tiny mountain ridge. Gracefully curved, valley smooth and deep. It was beautiful. That was the first time in a few years of knowing her that I really noticed it. Something so beautiful yet hidden from my sight all this while.

It was such a pity that there were far too few beauty for the world she lived in. A single tear rolled down my cheek at that thought. A slight remorse, coupled with a tinge of regret overcame me. How could a day like this cover the reality of how things were?

I didn’t even try to think of an answer for the questions kept coming, swirling around my head like a violent hurricane, occupying my thoughts and punishing me slowly. I imagine her hearing a thousand noises, voices yelling, chaos of a life tunnelling into her mind.

Her doubts and worries of every day, every hour, the tears and cry shed inside her mind, after the struggle of every day. Every moment of every mistake, misdeed, a geniune tragedy, playing over and again.

Sound of every thoughts that she never forgot . . the words whispered to herself. The sounds in her mind, echoed as loud as real voices, only louder, because all the sounds come only to her and to her alone.

It was there and then that I finally decided, I will keep her safe.

I gazed at her lobe again. I only thought of mountains and valleys, alone but not caring, while she dreamed of faraway dreams, paradise away from here, where only peace remained.

We mingled in the air, as silence overcame all the shouting in our minds.

I kept my promise. I made her my wife a year or two later.

It was once of those days.  I kept the faith.

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