The Risk Of Writing

Wounded. That's how I felt. When they stormed in, just took our parents away. I tried to fight my way to them, but someone grabbed my wrist, and before I could even try anything, anything to break free, I felt a cold blade scrape deep into my flesh. The blood leaked onto my arm in little droplets, the pain making me wince with every drop. But even that did not pain me, as much as watching them do it to little Lottie. Watch them stain her pale skin with viciously bright red drops. Watch her cry out in pain and be ignored.