The sleep


                                                                   She sleeps. 

                                 Her small chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm of life.
                                            Her soft blonde hair strewn over the pillow.
                     Someone has pulled a blanket over her, protecting her from the cold night air.

                                      She sleeps without the tragedy she calls her life. 

Now the morning sun is finding it's way through the cracks in the curtains, and falling across her face.
Her eyes stay closed. She remains in that peaceful state, drinking up the last moments of sleep and  
                                  sunlight, before she awakes and returns to her life of fear.

                                     A siren in the street below her interrupts the sleep.

                                                           Her eyes flutter open.

                          The memory comes flooding in like the sunlight throughout the curtains. 
                   Instead of waking up out of the dead of sleep, she wakes out of life, and into death.
                                            Her eyes shine with the memory of horrors.
                                                       Her eyes shine with despair.
                                                         Her eyes shine with fear.
                                                        Her eyes shine with tears.

                                                             The sleep is over.
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