She pressed her little hand to the bleeding cut, tears pricking her eyes, but she didn't cry aloud. In this house, no one noticed when she was hurt; no one cared about her pain. Carefully, she limped back to her bed, clutching her teddy bear tightly, and climbed under the blanket. The sting throbbed in her foot, but she held it inside, swallowing the tears, because she knew that in this family, she was just a little girl whose pain didn't matter. As she lay there, imagining the garden from her dreams, she pictured herself as a butterfly, flying far away with her mother, where no shards of glass or anger could ever reach her. Even in pain, Nina held onto hope, the only comfort she could find in a world that ignored her.
A dream where she felt save.
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