Don't Be AfraidMature

Many nights passed in the burn ward before the grafts had gone through. His face recovered better than the rest of him, though, a thin sliver of silvery scar still showed along the edge of his grafting, along his left jawline, up to the center of his cheek, no more than an inch above his jaw. 

         It took a long time for him to grow the courage to speak. 
Six years.

Six years of silence. Without a word. 

And it was broken by a silence. Ironic.

           She said not a word to him, and he not a word to her. In the asylum, they were the best of friends. They never spoke, they never left messages, but they always understood one another.

           Silas thought of her as the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She had hair, ebony and shining. Her skin was fair, clean beige, and her figure was certainly to be envied. 
The doctors say she had lost her family in a fire. Again, sweet irony would taunt poor, poor Silas. And since witnessing the horrific event, she fell mute.

           Her name was Anne. And she broke his silence.

His eyes met her, and he stood, and stared. As he often did. And she stared into him.

They spoke though sight. Their intuition passed their messages along.
She was worried. Silas knew why. 

It was the Fourth of July. And the fireworks were to be launched at the Pond, rather than down the way. No matter where she would go, the fire would be seen. The glow of the burning light would find her. And she could not bear that thought.

He held her hand, and kissed it. 

Just as the first burst thrust her into his arms. 

He whispered. "Don't be afraid."

She held onto him, tears flowing, eyes burning red with fear and woe.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here Anne." He spoke louder, suddenly unable to stop his own tears.

"I'm here."

The End

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