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Shadows and Scars (Little Sister’s Story)
By Nick Aitoro
Scared and lonely, Little Sister waited in the shadows—
Her fear, the chain that held her there.
The abuse she never spoke aloud—
The words, the belts, the heavy hands—still echoed in the air.
Her scars hid beneath silence, the pain still sharp,
Blood once fresh, now a memory painted across the mirror’s glare.
Desperately alone, she cowered, trembling in despair.
Her tears fell freely, tracing down her face,
Unseen or ignored, no matter who was near.
She cloaked herself in numbness—her silent armor—
A shield just to persevere.
Little Sister longed to feel, to truly feel, something raw and real—
A sensation lost for years.
The cold blade shimmered in the light,
Pressed to porcelain skin so white—
A shallow cut, clean and thin—
The pain, the blood, the rush…
Her twisted relief from within.
She waited.
And waited.
For someone to love her.
She waited through countless, empty years.
Then one day—he came.
Her Savior.
The one she trusted with her shattered heart,
Still aching from the sear.
Out from the shadows Little Sister ran,
Pigtails bouncing, eyes bright, a smile from ear to ear.
He wrapped her in love,
Protected her soul,
Saw her wounds and calmed her fears.
He taught her she had worth inside—
To be herself.
To hold her head high.
He gave her the world, his heart, his truth…
But still, she wasn’t satisfied.
She couldn’t see beyond the fear.
She never truly came alive.
Crushed beneath the weight of lies she never released,
Little Sister ran again, back into the night.
She’ll never know the beauty of life—
Of self, of truth, of love that can survive.
For the shadows are all she’ll ever see…
Until she’s no longer alive.
