Bloodstained and bandaged, the girl curled up, holding herself. The pain was sharp, protruding like glass, and she wrapped her arms around herself to guard against it.
But he found her. He lifted her up, the sun bright on his face, his tousled black curls. He saw her first.
The cage glittered. It was shiny and familiar. She locked the door.
He crept into her cage and sat beside her. He guarded her spirit like a fragile candle flame. It guttered in the wind and he shielded it with his hands.
He mended her.
He wove nettle thread into a tightrope, and found slippers for her feet.
Eyes closed, terrified, she held his hand and inched along that rope. Tentative. Reaching. Falling.
Stumbling, angry, retreating to an even higher perch in the cage.
He began again.
It’s what she always sees in him. Endless patience. Conviction. Determination.
He builds her.
He helps her change the life she’s living.
She walks against the current, fighting, the water cold as her clothing swirls. She’s gasping for air. It’s harder than anything.
He’s on the other side of the river bank. His hand outstretched. She sees the light glance off his face. The calculation in his eyes. What he does is planned. It’s for her. It’s always for her.
She makes her way to him. She grips his fingers. He pulls her up. The smile on his face makes the sun seem like a shadow.
They stand together. Look out. Light shimmers on the water.
It’s you, she thinks. It’s always been you.