Mood: Sick/Bored
Music: Justice and Mercy-Flyleaf
Working On: Farther Away and Lithium
Reading: --
Watching: --

You try your hardest
To perfect your explanations
You lie
Until they've run out of
Questions...

A smile plastered across her face, silver eyes telling the truth. She doesn't care, she claims to never care.

Though at night, the tears fall, holding tiny knees to her chest, small, bruised body, she never talked, never made a sound. 'Momma keeps me downstaires for my own good' she claims. 'Momma loves me...'

The sun never met her skin, but she has no color pigment, she cant change colors. Forever deathly pale. Her little body, fractured and in pain, upstaires fighting grows violent. She hugs her knees tighter.

As she grows older, skin grows transluscent, you can see right through her.

'These burdens are heavy..' She claims when no one is around.

But then she lies to those who ask. 'Why are you so pale?'

She smiled ever so sweetly. 'I dunno. Momma...where is momma?'

And they only pat her head and tell her not to worry.

Small body, frail and weak, curls up on the bed, the doctors news running through her young, naiive mind. The doctors eyes had met the guardians eyes, sadness. 'She is sick.' he explains. 'Little Echo might not live.'

'What does she have?' They spoke quietly as the little girl looks around, the room a calming lavender.

The doctor frowns and sadly glances at the little girl. 'She has cancer. It cannot be cured, little Echo's ribs are also fractured beyond repair...shes so young...she has lung cancer...'

Both males look at the curious girl who finally notices, silver eyes full of innocence and love. She crawls off, nearly falling, but the guardian gently catching her and holding her against him, face nuzzeling into his chest.

She becomes more and more frail, breathing become harder and she stares frightened around the hospital room.

'She has no chances...' the doctor now explains. 'The poor girl, was she born like this?'

The guardian shakes his head, brown hair falling slightly into his matching brown eyes. 'No. Her mother smoked...'

'Second hand smoke...'

And weeks past and the child slept more and more and finally, she is gone.

You can breathe today...