Determined strides squeak
On the corridor tiles,
Pause outside her room.
In the dim shelter of sheets
Shallow warm breaths
Rush over her cheeks.
She rolls onto her side
To face him at the door,
Eyes shut, and wide.
Her heart becomes lead,
Bended knees trembling
Hugged to her chest.
The door handle creaks
With a thump of his frame
Against unbudging teak.
His shocked silence is loud
But her crying screams
Make barely a sound.
The beast is locked out.
The hurt is locked in.
“Sweetheart?!” he shouts.
© Leonie Vorster
