The real horror is that the weeping doesn't seem to stop. The wretching, heaving sobs that make her shoulders shake. Clinging desperately as a child might, without knowing how to do anything else. Terrified of what does not have a name.
"It's too late, I will be punished."
For what, she does not know, she is no soldier, yet they insisted.
no subject
"It's too late, I will be punished."
For what, she does not know, she is no soldier, yet they insisted.