THE SOUND OF QUIET

“How tight is too tight?” I wondered, snuggling closer to Pia. My stuffing threatened to burst from the sheer force of her hug, but I didn’t mind. The warmth of her arms, the gentle pulsing of her heartbeat, those soft cuddles—they were my whole world, my safe harbour. And my heart, a strong vault for her best-kept secrets. Which of her dreams were the best, where all the monsters under the bed lived, and how to stay perfectly still while my little girl slept — her Mithru knew them all. 

Just as the steady rhythm of her breathing lulled us into sleep, our quiet world was shattered by a ground-shaking boom, followed by a terrified shout from Ma. Everything moved too fast. The air turned thick with the taste of smoke and something acrid. I just caught a glimpse of Ma and Pa once, their faces twisted with a fear I’d never felt before.

Clutched in a white-knuckled grip, my girl held me like a shield as she ran along the rocky path. The krik-krik of her bare feet was raw against the gravel, a desperate sound of survival.

We lost Ma and Pa somewhere on the way, but my brave girl kept going. The warmth of her arms was still there, but it was now soaked in cold fear. Or was it her blood? I was too scared to look closer. We were still moving; the frantic thud-thud of her heartbeat was now our only compass.

And that’s when a second boom tore the night apart. The ground buckled beneath us, and in the sudden, jarring chaos, her grip suddenly went slack. One minute we were running, and then the next, I hit the cold, hard ground with a small thud. 

I lay there, my limbs frantically moving, trying to locate her tiny body. My ears strained to hear the familiar lup-tup, to catch the faintest echo of her breathing. But there was nothing. Only the sound of the wind, whispering across an empty, starless sky.

I’d promised Pia that I would keep her safe from all the monsters under her bed. But I didn’t know about these real monsters, filled with a hatred so cold that it could turn homes into heaps of dust in seconds. I couldn’t save her from them. I failed my girl, and this war raging within me was as maddening as the war outside.

The warmth in her smile, the music in her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes—all of it was gone. All but a ghost of her memories remained, now floating listlessly in that putrid air. My girl’s right to live was robbed, even before she could learn to spell that word correctly. 

I lay there, a forgotten teddy bear, the last keeper of her secrets, left all alone to remember a world that once was, for his little Pia might never come back for her Mithru.

“How tight is too tight?” I wondered, clutching my chest.