SONG ACCOMPANIMENT: "Shadows" by Red -- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8yrQgPD16BI

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Exhausted and ready for a good night sleep, I opened the door to my tiny, defunct shack and closed it behind me quickly. I leaned against it and shut my eyes, grateful for a chance to relax.

"Esha," I called, "I'm home." No response. I opened my eyes and looked around. "Esha?" She was not in the room. I whirled around and dashed out the door, looking up and down the dirt road. 'Did she go outside to play?' I wondered. The sun was starting to set, and if she was outside, I knew she would have come inside by now. It wasn't safe to be out after dark. It really wasn't safe to be outside at all.

Now increasingly nervous, I ran back inside, eyes darting over everything in sight frantically. "Esha?!" I called again. "Esha, come out! You're scaring me!" I stepped over the threshold and into the next room, and stopped dead in my tracks at what I saw.

On the ground was the motionless figure of an eight year old girl.

"Esha?"

My heart fell into my stomach, and before I knew what'd happened, I was already on the ground next to her. I checked her pulse, which was nearly non-existent, and my eyes widened. In the left side of her chest, was a bullet-hole.

"No...no, no, no, no, no!" I scooped her up in my arms and started for the door. She needed a doctor. They could fix her.

Then I remembered. There was no doctor. The nearest one was over twenty miles away, in Sylhet. But no! I could get her there. I could keep her from fading off for long enough to get there. I had to do it. Somehow. I wouldn't give up. I couldn't give up. But I was exhausted. I could barely stand. A full day's work. I mean, it was only a recon -a scouting mission - but I swear those things take it out of you, especially if you're only fifteen.

I looked down at the girl in my arms, the girl I had come to love over the past two years. The only family I had left was bleeding to death in my arms. And there was nothing I could do about it. And that was what hurt the most.

I was about to run out the door anyways, see if anyone would be able to help -- oh what a ridiculous idea that was -- but before I could even open it, Esha shifted slightly, and whimpered in pain. Hope soared high. She was still alive. There was still a chance. I reached for the handle, but Esha's voice echoed in my mind:'No...'

I stopped, tears forming in my eyes. "Esha. I can save you. I NEED to save you." I tried again, but this time she grabbed my hand, pulling it off the handle and to her chest.

'Please, Kryssie. Stay. It is too late. Just...just stay...'

I slid down the door and onto the floor in shock. "Esha..." She clasped her weak hand tightly around mine. I don't remember a time I wanted to hear her voice more than right then. To hear her actually speak for the first time. I'm sure her voice would have been perfectly beautiful. It would have helped me so much. Curse the man who did that to her. The man who took her voice.

'Kryssie! Stop crying! It is alright! I know it was not your fault. There are many bad men. They just happened to target us...'

That just made me cry harder. It was my fault. All my fault. One of my clients...my failed jobs...oh, gods help me: one of them took out their vendetta against me on poor Esha. My fault...they killed her because of me. Because of my recklessness, my sloppiness. I didn't finish the job. I got too cocky. Too confident. And it came back to bite me. Or her.

'Kryssie...you're the best -- the only friend I've ever had. You're my family. Please...please don't make this any harder. On me or you.'

I choked on another sob, but held it in for her sake. She was right. I was being selfish. I couldn't just sit there crying my head off right in front of her. Right in--oh, gods.

"No...no, Esha, d-don't fade on me! Stay! Please! Open your eyes! Now! Please! Please..."

'I can't wait to see...the difference you'll make...I know you will...you're special, Kryssie. I...I love you...Krys...'Her hand went limp in mine.
And I knew that it over.

I clutched her to my chest, sobbing incessantly. It was the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. Worse than any of the previous tortures -- the glass, the burns, the bullets -- for this pain was not curable. It was permanent and ever-growing, welling up inside of me 'til I was sure I would explode. I let out a scream. A gut-wrenching, heart-breaking scream of inner-agony. All my love and all my pain would never bring her back. Never. She would never know how much I truly needed her. Yes, I was her mother, in a way, but she was also my best friend. She was my sister.

And she was gone.

Notes

I apologize if I broke anyone's heart. I broke mine many times over, writing this. Yeah, no one knows who Esha is yet, but that doesn't make it any less sad. =(
Anyways, it was intended to be a writing exercise for me. I wanted to see where I was at with writing short, dramatic pieces, especially tragedies (which there will be a lot of in Crystalline Melodies).
I'd love to know what you think! =)