Page 31 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
The words felt strange coming out of my mouth.
Safe.
I wasn’t even sure I believed it for myself.
The child tightened her grip in response, fingers clutching at my clothes like she was afraid I might disappear if she loosened even slightly.
A faint sound escaped her.
Not quite a sob.
More like something swallowed halfway through.
I swallowed hard, pushing past the discomfort crawling up my spine.
“You’re alright,” I murmured again, slower this time. “No one’s going to hurt you here.”
A pause.
Then—very faintly—
“...p-please...”
Her voice was small, broken at the edges, like it hadn’t been used in a long time except to beg. The child hesitated, breath catching again as if even speaking cost her something.
“...don’t... don’t send me back...”
The words landed softly.
But they struck harder than anything else in the room.
My hand stilled against her back instantly, every muscle locking as the meaning settled in.
I knew that tone.
That fear.
That quiet, desperate plea not to be returned to wherever she had come from.
I had heard and lived it before.
My fingers curled slightly at her back before I forced them to relax again.
“I promise you’re not going back anywhere you fear.” I said, more firmly this time.
The promise came out before I could stop it.
I lowered myself slowly, bending at the knees with deliberate care.
The child’s breathing met mine at chest level, quick and uneven, brushing faintly against my skin with every sharp inhale.
She couldn’t have been more than five years old—maybe even younger.
Far too small to be out here alone.
Her body shook violently, the tremors running through her shoulders and into me where she clung.
Her fingers were knotted tightly in my shirt, gripping so hard the fabric strained under the pressure.
