What Is The Scariest Thing That Has Ever Happened To You?

I got there too late. There was so much blood. Or so it seemed. They assured me it wasn't that bad. That there wasn't...but it was hers. Her blood on the sheets. Her blood soaking through her ridiculous cotton t-shirt with the cartoon mouse on it. I didn't realize in time, the danger she was in.

The danger I'd put her in.

Her eyes didn't see me. She said the right things, and she moved, but none of it was right. None of it was...her. And her eyes. When I looked in them, she wasn't there looking back.

I healed her wounds. Her grandmother washed away the blood and threw out the sheets. She wouldn't let us take the t-shirt though. She kept saying something about being happy. They told me she was in shock, that she would be all right. That she would mend and all would be well.

The danger was gone, locked up, and injured far more badly than she. She fought hard against it. She won the fight.

She should never have had to.

We walked to the lake a few days later. She explained about the trial, about what would happen, about what part she would play. She let me hold her, but she still wasn't there. She jumped at shadows. She woke from her dreams screaming. I held her, soothed her back to sleep when I could, amused her as she sat awake when I couldn't make her sleep.

They said it was trauma, but that it would pass. We went riding one afternoon and she took a jump that made my heart stop, but when she looked back at me she was laughing and she looked like herself and I hoped. Things were better when she was awake, though not when she slept.

The trial was short; the evidence clear. The danger said not a word in her defense. She won the fight against it again. Two victories after centuries of defeat.

Then she kissed me goodbye and left Ireland. I have not seen her since.