[Creative Muses] December Prompt
002.resilient
“No crying, Aunt Lavinia,” Sarah Jane whispered softly as she tugged on her aunt’s skirts. “No crying. Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t want that.”
Her brown eyes were wide and earnest as she stared up at the woman who was now going to be her permanent guardian. The usual smudges of dirt or ink were gone from her face. Sarah had never been cleaner: even her hair was prim and proper, tied out of her eyes in a neat barrette. She was dressed in her best Sunday black and her shoes shone with disuse.
It felt strange to be so clean and so dressed up on a Thursday afternoon. Her father would have laughed and wondered what happened to his plucky little girl. Her mother would have been proud. But neither was there to see her right now. Neither would ever be again. Tears threatened her eyes at those thoughts but Sarah shook her head. Five years old as she was, she had to stay resilient. Most of their Liverpool neighborhood had turned out to the funeral. Enough had already given her their sympathies.
And Sarah Jane Smith was sick of it.
Resilient was the way to go. If no one knew how sad she really was, maybe they really would just leave her alone. But that meant that Aunt Lavinia couldn’t cry either. Because if she cried, then Sarah Jane was certain that she would start crying too.
“Please?”
Aunt Lavinia pulled a handkerchief from her purse and wiped her eyes gently. She looked down at Sarah. Sarah stared back up at her, still with the wide eyed earnest. She didn’t flinch when her aunt stroked her hair. She only shrugged when asked a question. “When did you get to be so brave, Sarah Jane?”
The truth was that she didn’t feel brave right now. She was only five years old and she was at a funeral that would change her life forever. Sarah wanted to run and cry and throw a tantrum and announce to all of Liverpool - all of the world even - that her parents weren’t dead and all of them were wrong and that they were coming back, you wait and see.
But she couldn’t. That would only lead to more sympathies and more questions. Sarah Jane wanted to be left in peace.
“Because,” she whispered, shrugging again. “’cause.”
Daddy liked little girl to be brave and strong. She remembered that. He told her that every time she came home from visiting Michael and Lilly from across the street all by herself. So even if she was crying on the inside right now, she could be resilient on the outside. It was all because the man in the coffin would’ve wanted that, she told herself.
It was because that if she let one tear go, Sarah would never, ever stop crying. Two hours later, she found that out for certain.
“No crying, Aunt Lavinia,” Sarah Jane whispered softly as she tugged on her aunt’s skirts. “No crying. Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t want that.”
Her brown eyes were wide and earnest as she stared up at the woman who was now going to be her permanent guardian. The usual smudges of dirt or ink were gone from her face. Sarah had never been cleaner: even her hair was prim and proper, tied out of her eyes in a neat barrette. She was dressed in her best Sunday black and her shoes shone with disuse.
It felt strange to be so clean and so dressed up on a Thursday afternoon. Her father would have laughed and wondered what happened to his plucky little girl. Her mother would have been proud. But neither was there to see her right now. Neither would ever be again. Tears threatened her eyes at those thoughts but Sarah shook her head. Five years old as she was, she had to stay resilient. Most of their Liverpool neighborhood had turned out to the funeral. Enough had already given her their sympathies.
And Sarah Jane Smith was sick of it.
Resilient was the way to go. If no one knew how sad she really was, maybe they really would just leave her alone. But that meant that Aunt Lavinia couldn’t cry either. Because if she cried, then Sarah Jane was certain that she would start crying too.
“Please?”
Aunt Lavinia pulled a handkerchief from her purse and wiped her eyes gently. She looked down at Sarah. Sarah stared back up at her, still with the wide eyed earnest. She didn’t flinch when her aunt stroked her hair. She only shrugged when asked a question. “When did you get to be so brave, Sarah Jane?”
The truth was that she didn’t feel brave right now. She was only five years old and she was at a funeral that would change her life forever. Sarah wanted to run and cry and throw a tantrum and announce to all of Liverpool - all of the world even - that her parents weren’t dead and all of them were wrong and that they were coming back, you wait and see.
But she couldn’t. That would only lead to more sympathies and more questions. Sarah Jane wanted to be left in peace.
“Because,” she whispered, shrugging again. “’cause.”
Daddy liked little girl to be brave and strong. She remembered that. He told her that every time she came home from visiting Michael and Lilly from across the street all by herself. So even if she was crying on the inside right now, she could be resilient on the outside. It was all because the man in the coffin would’ve wanted that, she told herself.
It was because that if she let one tear go, Sarah would never, ever stop crying. Two hours later, she found that out for certain.