He cracks his cane hard against her baby soft skin; slips it away only to leave a fine crease, a minute dent in the skin. Pain, only unbearable for a second.
His heart sinks.
Her heart shrivels.
Hers, as if pulled away and suck off it's life form. His, stricken with anger; now, regretful of his act. She was only 9.
She screams. The thin line that separates love and hate, laughter and pain, lesson and hurt.
He grabs her. Throws her over his shoulder in sweet sorrow. Puts her down in her soft bed and caresses her. By her bed, documents labeled 'urgent' in bold red, torn to shreds. Blue, black, green, red pens, scattered, tips uncapped;some leaving stains on the new woollen carpet.
She looks at it, tears escaping from the corner of her eyes.
"I only wanted to draw"
He pulls her close. His sight blurry from tears rapidly welling up. He tucks her blanket in The space between her little self and the silk sheet.
The unfortunate paradox of learning through pain.
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