Eight years old.

Dreams discovered. 

Memories made.

Boys had cooties.

Laughter consumed the air.

Smiles all around.

 

All that changed.

Dreams forgotten.

Memories hurt.

The laughter stopped.

Smiles forced.

All with one phone call.

 

Nothing hid the pain that she brought.

Or the pain that she had.

Everyone knew.

They knew.

He knew.

She didn't.

 

She brushed his hand away uncomfortably

Please,

Stop.

 

Something's wrong.

Tell someone.

This isn't right.

 

Grandpas are supposed to be fun.

Role models.

Leaders.

Someone to look up to.

No reason to be afraid.

 

She didn't know better.

He did.

Tell someone.

Police get involved.

Everyone knows her guilt.

She did it.

 

Days are longer.

Nights are colder.

 

Boys just had cooties for all she knew.

 

Other kids laugh and play.

She takes the blame.

For sending her grandpa to prison

For life.

 

Eight years old.

 

It's not her fault.

It should never be the victim's fault.

Now, she's scarred for life.

The pain continues on.

 

They scream.

They yell.

They cry.

 

She's sorry.

 

Make the pain go away.

She didn't stay quiet, and yet

 

Guilt fills her heart.

With every beat.

For eternity.

 

Eight years old.