Too scared to post this in creative
The world had been kind to her and she was blissfully ignorant. Evil had been restricted from her view and silenced from her ears. She brought more children into the world; a world she assumed was truly good. Two daughters she should never have had. She witnessed the evil brought unto her eldest by the very man she loved. She had been blinded by this love for years but when she saw him betraying their kin, she did the right thing; the strong thing. Everything she did was out of love; protecting her daughter and bringing around justice. She supported that child and put her all into helping her. What a wonderful woman to be so strong whilst their world has been torn apart? Guilt, of course, weighed down on her shoulders at night but it was lifted by invisible, scarred arms.
Despite her vigilant and unconditional love, the eldest was scarred mentally by that evil. Anorexia was the new evil seeping into their lives. She had tried so hard to keep that evil out, but it came; her spirit was crushed. Invisible hands fed the eldest and took this duty off the mother’s back. An invisible voice consolidated the mother, reassuring her that she was not a bad parent.
It must be in my genes! She had thought as it became evident that the youngest’s mind was disturbed. Well the mother knew what she had to do: that strong, benevolent woman took the measures needed to nurse the youngest back to health (or at least to a comfortable degree of health). Suddenly, curiously and unfortunately, evil struck again. It was in a park this time; the youngest the victim. Yet the youngest must have had her mother’s genes for they all survived that well. The mother started to hope – for hope and faith were characteristics she always maintained – that things would get better. They did. The eldest was well and no longer did the invisible hands have to feed her. The youngest was medicated to a point where no one would have to see the ugliness of her mind and health.
Yet evil came back – or maybe, it was simply just a coincidence. The now happy eldest was ripped from the mother’s life. The eldest she loved so much and the eldest who made it all seem worth it. It was bitterly cruel for her to be taken when she was finally contented. The mother may have been strong but how was she supposed to survive this cruelty? Who could ask her to continue her brave face? The mother now lies in a blanket of melancholy and darkness; hatred and grief running her life. Invisible hands wash the dishes. Invisible hands pay the bills. Invisible hands dial 999 for the ambulance whilst the mother lies in a pool of blood. Invisible demons haunt the youngest, known to no one but herself. Invisible sadness lies under the smiling façade. As deep down (though she despises herself for feeling this way) she waits for thanks, love and care. Yet that too seems invisible.