* Mea Culpa
The beauty of moonlight shadows passing through the curtains distracted her from the sound of footsteps. But only for a moment. She could hear them, softly padding down the polished floor. Drawing closer. As she knew they would. Pretty pretty pretty shadows. The door clicked
open. Outside, the moon glowed white against the sky. Silent. Watching. Man in the moon. I can see you. Perhaps tonight he wouldn’t. The darkness would hide her and he’d think that she was gone. He’d turn without a word and slither away, slippers hiding the sounds of his journey. She would close her eyes and sleep, unafraid at last, except of tomorrow with its promise of
the same. The shadow hovering over her now was not of the moon. She lay still and listened to the quickening thump of her heart. I love you pumpkin, don’t you ever forget that.
pretty pretty
softly softly
mummy mummy
daddy daddy
wake me wake me
slowly slowly
whisper whisper
I am sorry
*Mea culpa.
(*Mea culpa: it’s my fault. Guilt is the powerful tool an abuser resorts to, to silence his victim. Hence, the child believes the fault to be its own.)
©Elizabeth Melton Parsons