My angel’s insensible pull frightens me.

Her rage hurls currents of hatred through me. It is overpowering. My jaw hurts. I am clenching on to an overwhelming emotion. I tremble. I burst!

IMBECILES! DISAPPROVE OVER SUCH MATTERS AS SKIN COLOR?!

RIDICULOUS!

SPITEFUL!

HATEFUL!

Ah, my mind pounds. I tear. My jaw cracks.

HATEFUL!

HATEFUL!

HATEFUL!

My eyes dilate. They quake.

“HATEFUL!” my angel and I screech.

The little girl huddled close pats my arm. I look at her.

What am I doing?

I take hold of her hand and tighten. Calm myself. Calm my angel. Calm us both.

“Are you alright?” the sobbing boy asks.

“Yes,” I squeak. I hastily let go of the little girl. I wipe my tears. My head is sore.

*Thunder*

*Crack*

The silent boy gets up. He moves towards the window. Flames reflect themselves in his eyes.

“Let us go,” he dejects.

He bangs on the window. The wooden plane pops out. He lifts and flings himself through the opening. The little girl fixed next to me, stands, and follows suit. I get up amazed. On toes, I pull myself up and peek through the window.

I see them running, towards the huts, amid a field of flame.

“Do you need help?” the sobbing boy asks from behind.

“No, I have this,” I say.

With great effort, I manage to squeeze myself through the opening. I land with a thud on the other side. My leg aches as I get up.

Ouch.

I pat my leg; scrunching my face.

The sobbing boy is standing next to me.

Wow, how nimble.

He picks up the wooden plane and places it back.

“Come on,” he starts running.

I try to keep up, but my leg makes this difficult. The boy stops abruptly and turns. He scurries up to me and offers his hand. I tighten my lips but take his hand.

He scoops me up and turns. He starts again. His pace seems unchanged.

We arrive at the huts.

They are empty.

What?

“What?” the boy seems confused, “The Seniors left us?”

The boy starts trembling and tears form in his eyes. He starts sobbing.

Oh no, he is swaying! We will collapse at this rate…

I pat his head and try to soothe him. I squeeze him.

“Shhh, Shhh,” I whisper to him.

He falls on his bottom with me on top. He squeezes me back, rubbing his face into my shoulder, hiccupping nonsense:

“Th… (hic) The… They… (hic) They lef… lef… (hic) left… us…”

“What a handful,” my angel says.

Angel quiet, he is only a child.