Freeform: Wounds.

      Standing in front of a mirror, I expect to see my own reflection when, instead, cast in the pale light of some long-ago moon, there sits a small girl, curled-up with her knees to her chin. Little cuts adorn her bare arms and legs, from scars freshly opened by tiny little fingernails, as she hides her face behind her silver-white hair, flowing atop her head and down past her shoulders.
      She trembles, but is afraid to cry. I want nothing more than to reach through the glass, and in doing so, I find myself in her dark little realm, looking above to see no moon, not even a star glinting in the distance. Just darkness, the cold unfathomable, and this little wounded, trembling girl, who glows just like the moon.
      She looks up at me with eyes red with tears, and irises a shade of red between warming and hurt. I bend down, crouching despite the effort, and follow my instinct to just take her in my arms, press her tight against my chest, and not let go.
      "It's okay," I whisper, feeling her tremble. "I know you hurt . . . it's okay, I'm here now..."
      She cries, and the tears run down my cheeks, as I see with her eyes all the little cuts and scars, her only desire laid bare.
      She only ever wanted to be loved, unconditionally.
      But instead, she found only pain, only the need to hide away, to keep from ever being hurt so terribly again, even if all she ever did was to keep picking at the scabs.
      She withdraws almost as soon as the tears began, returning to her curled-up position on the ground. "It's okay," I whisper, that little smile still on my face somehow, "it takes time. And we have all the time in the world, I promise."
      She winces at the word, but somehow, she doesn't hold herself so tightly. I slip away, if only for a moment, to write these very words, knowing that they, too, are flawed, but showing her all the same, as I look back into the mirror to see my own face again, wondering, hoping that she'll be in my arms to keep, that she won't have to be alone any longer.