(no subject)
"Why didn't you believe me?"
It comes out small, sad, and plaintive - a surprise to her, as her voice for the past forty-five minutes has been calm, cool, dispassionate. The fact that she's said it at all surprises her - she certainly didn't intend to say it, didn't intend to go anywhere near the topic at all. She hadn't written it down on her list, hadn't even thought of it. Even if she had considered it she probably wouldn't have written it down - too touchy a subject. Which is somewhat laughable, considering the touchiness of everything else on her list. But she chose to shy away from it.
A choice that was remade without her even thinking of it.
She recognizes the small, sad little voice - Little Amara peeking out from her fortress of pillows. That adorable, innocent face, that bowl-cut hair, somewhere between blonde and brown... those sad, hurt little green eyes. All she's ever wanted to know was why Mommy didn't believe her. She sees an opportunity to finally have her most important question answered, and seizes it in her chubby little hands.
"Why didn't you believe me?"
Her voice cracks somewhere around "believe", which is another surprise to her. Those five words cause her more pain to utter than she would have believed, had one told her about it previously. She's never asked it. Never brought it up, that great unspoken shame that has always lurked between them.
She listens to her mother's answer, hears the pain in her mother's voice, the relived fear. It's nothing surprising, nothing she hadn't assumed was the answer before. There was really only one answer that could have been. But somehow hearing it from her... doesn't quite ease the years-old pain, but it... somehow soothes Little Amara's sad, broken little heart... and starts to heal.
It comes out small, sad, and plaintive - a surprise to her, as her voice for the past forty-five minutes has been calm, cool, dispassionate. The fact that she's said it at all surprises her - she certainly didn't intend to say it, didn't intend to go anywhere near the topic at all. She hadn't written it down on her list, hadn't even thought of it. Even if she had considered it she probably wouldn't have written it down - too touchy a subject. Which is somewhat laughable, considering the touchiness of everything else on her list. But she chose to shy away from it.
A choice that was remade without her even thinking of it.
She recognizes the small, sad little voice - Little Amara peeking out from her fortress of pillows. That adorable, innocent face, that bowl-cut hair, somewhere between blonde and brown... those sad, hurt little green eyes. All she's ever wanted to know was why Mommy didn't believe her. She sees an opportunity to finally have her most important question answered, and seizes it in her chubby little hands.
"Why didn't you believe me?"
Her voice cracks somewhere around "believe", which is another surprise to her. Those five words cause her more pain to utter than she would have believed, had one told her about it previously. She's never asked it. Never brought it up, that great unspoken shame that has always lurked between them.
She listens to her mother's answer, hears the pain in her mother's voice, the relived fear. It's nothing surprising, nothing she hadn't assumed was the answer before. There was really only one answer that could have been. But somehow hearing it from her... doesn't quite ease the years-old pain, but it... somehow soothes Little Amara's sad, broken little heart... and starts to heal.