I didn’t hold her in my arms. I watched. Like a helpess scared animal, I sat and watched. She was tiny. She was fragile and yet so strong. Her breaths were growing weaker. Less frequent. Her eyes, still glued shut were quivering. Her tiny hands seemed pasted to the side of her body. She barely moved. I would have asked her to run. Run far, far away before they started to take her away from me. If her legs were strong enough I would have asked her to run without looking back. If my legs were strong enough, I would have run. Before they took her away from me. She needed me. and him. Not them. They were cruel and mean. I sat there as emotionless as she was. My eyes as still as hers was, except mine were open and red. And covered in tears. I didn’t want to hold her. I knew I couldn’t deal with the pain of knowing how she felt in my arms for the briefest moment and wake up the next morning without anyone to hold. So I sat there and watched him hold her as close to his heart as he could have. So that she’d know, we were still there. So that she’d know love, before they took her away.
Not even an hour had passed, and she was gone. Our hands were empty. Our eyes were swollen and red. My lips dry and pasty. She stopped breathing a few moments after I kissed her forehead. Like she was waiting for my love. It was all I could give her. And before I could say her name, she left me. She left us.
After that, everything was a blur.