We still don't know why.
The child, who now shelters my waist in her arms, is crying into my side. She's begging to know what was done to make me this way.
I gathered myself and tried to explain to the child still teary eyed at what her future held.
"I had run into dark section of my life where the little girl grew up to be a pale light reflection of what she once was. She was weak and in constant pain, though the tears never fell. She shook hands with a new friend, death. Death was beautiful and coaxed her further into tragedy. And into tragedy she fell.
Death taught her self destruction. She was taught destruction was always followed by perfection. She was a fool to fall into this. Death knew she didn't understand, no one ever does until its far to late.
It was only until years later the girl had realized her suffering was for nothing. Death had taught her the meaning of distortion, not by choice. Habits are hard to break, but she tried and she slowly regained her strength. She became happy with herself but death still found her admiring a grim appearance.
Now at partial adulthood the girl has collapsed. Her friend death has not claimed her, not yet. She's taken residence on the floor. Her legs can't hold her anymore as her body just wants to quit. The bells in her ears never cease to ring, and not even at night do the dead get to rest."
As I ended my explanation to the small child I drew away a few of my own tears. The poor frightened child didn't seem to satisfied as she still wanted to know why. I didn't have the answer for her, but I was sure of one thing I will never be able to save myself.
I told the child to enjoy the happiness she still had, and that this was just another dark spot that will brighten, but after that I felt I had told enough lies for one day. I assured her we'd never have another run-in again.