She sat trembling, not believing what she saw. What she heard. Sure the schools had been threatened loads of time, sometimes even shut down, but this had never actually happened.
The numbers increased. No. This could not be true. What savages could even devise such a thing?
No no no…
Pictures of boys. Stained. Shocked. Shivering with fright. Was the news playing with them? Could something like this really have come to pass?
But, alas, it had.
And the numbers were not going down.
She ran outside, trembling with rage and sadness – a six year old martyr. A thirteen year old saviour. And that teacher…
It could’ve been anyone’s school. It could’ve been her own.
* * * * *
She hadn’t found the courage to look at the news. It was too much. But it had been a whole year. Really? Something that inhumane had happened, and the wounds still bled fresh.
She hadn’t known them, met them, seen them. But they were like brothers. She loved them for the sake of that. And that pain was too much to be ignored.
As “Bara Dushman” played in the background, a new wave of tears overcame her, every time the tune began, her heart pounded. Those savages. Those barbarians. They deserved nothing less than to be burned. Again a tremble shook her, this time with memories which still moved her burning soul.
One day, when they’d all be older, they’d always think back to that day. To the day their lives changed forever. They’d sigh and hope it never happened again. Ever. They’d meet the eyes of the people who went through it and speak in a language unheard. A language not in need of being spoken.
She couldn’t even pray for people like that. They did the worst of the worst. It was too much, but she vowed to not forgive. And she vowed to know who did it, and to be sure of who she had to trust.