I saw a little girl at the cemetery today.
I felt so bad for her.
Yet she was standing over her dead mother's tomb, emotionless.
As I walked over to her, I could see people running towards her, frantically shouting her name.
Her father was trying to kill her.
Isn't that sad?
Her other relatives ran towards her, telling her to run.
But the girl stood there silently, waiting for what would happen next.
A man, blinded by sadness and hate came running, armed with a knife.
And the girl stood there.
Silently.
Patiently.
As the man neared and prepared to kill the girl, she closed her eyes, accepting her fate.
I ran towards them, trying to save her, but to no avail.
As the knife pierced her stomach, I felt the whole world stop.
I kept running for my life, trying to save the poor kid.
But the world resumed.
And the girl fell, knife stabbed into her stomach, peacefully, silently, mindlessly.
I was too late.
As I knelt down next to her dying body, panicked, she closed her eyes, telling me how she was glad at least someone cared when she died.
"Bury me next to my mother."
And she breathed her final breath.
