Urgent men scramble around, a little girl stands there among them, matted brown hair plastered to her round face, pink PJ's, wet from the pee that had escaped her young bladder during the night, clings to her chubby body. Pink is her favorite color, at least that's what her mommy says. Inside she really likes purple.

No one pays attention to this little girl, but she's used to that. She's not even eight, but she takes care of her mommy, little brother and baby sister. She loves her mommy, hoping one day she'll be as pretty as her. She often wishes her brother would disappear. He's such a brat and he takes too much of mommy's time with all his whining and sickness. He gets sick just so mommy will love him more. Her sister is ok, just a baby.

Confused, dazed, shivering, bare feet scraping against the cold, rough cement sidewalk, on this brisk mid-September night. Siren whirling, lights flashing, blinding in the chaotic night. Glimpsing to the left, she catches sight of the man from night before, the one that saved them from angry Dave. He throws a blanket over his head, exposing his naked body. Feeling the warmth quickly fill her cheeks, she instantly looks away in embarrassment. But she must look again, the urge is too overwhelming.

"Where is she?" Not realizing that the damage is done, that it's too late, she scans the surroundings, watching the naked man try to fight through the bustle of men in uniforms; yelling, "SHE'S STILL IN THERE!!!" They pull him back, pull him down, down to the dew soaked grass. He's yelling and fighting, "SHE'S STILL IN THERE!!!" Stupid man. You can't fight the cops, they always win.

"Where is she?" More frantically she wonders. "MOMMY?" The moonlight cascades over the house, the house that is now engulfed with flames. The flames are mesmerizing, orange, yellow and red all fading into each other, dancing in the breeze, the breeze that is making her body shiver under the drenched clothing.

"Honey, let's go inside." The pleasant voice suddenly snaps her out of the trance, and instinctively she quickly shifts her gaze from the beauty of the fire, to the welcoming face of a strange woman. "Sweetie, come with me. We'll get you all cleaned up."

The little girl whispers, with fear lacing through her words, "Where's my mommy?"

As young as she was, she recognized a look of sadness in this pretty lady's face, a look that her long golden locks falling around her face couldn't hide. She answered her, after what seemed like eternity with a deliberate, vague answer, "Baby, the police are taking care of it."


Without ever being told, that little girl, that innocent little girl wandering along the cold, jagged sidewalk, knew her mommy was never coming home again. Just 20 days before her eighth birthday, she had received the last hug and kiss from the mommy she loved so much. In a whirlwind of events, she had been left all alone in a harsh bitter world.


Sitting here, more than 20 years later, that little girl is no longer innocent and alone. She sits here, the sound of Push Play in the background, reliving one of the most horrific, life changing tragedies that she had to endure. More than 20 years later, the wounds reopen in the recanting of this night, this night she had tried to hard to push into that cobweb covered corner of her mind.

I'm that scared little girl, realizing that I never did find a cobweb corner in my mind to place all the unpleasantries in my life. I always thought, if I don't think about it, it can't hurt me. I have unfortunately found that regardless of the fantasy world I construct, it is still there. I stumble upon it when I least expect it; like the times I feel like venturing outside my imaginary bubble to embark upon a new journey. That's when I bump into her,she's standing there, persistently waving at me, reminding me to never forget her. Such a beautiful woman, so much pain. Is that what people will say about me when I die? Will they say all the niceties, followed by the contrite "but"? "....But she was in so much pain, more than physical." "....But her soul was broken."

I refuse to let that be me; I refuse to keep my secrets hidden. You don't have to agree with me, you don't have to read one word of this. I'm not doing this for your personal enjoyment; I'm doing this as a tool to aid in my growth. My life is in my hands and it's time I took charge. She missed the milestone in my life, that last hug that night, before I fell asleep to the backdrop sounds of the drinking and partying,means more than a lifetime of recitals.