Still Floating In Maternal Waters

She climbs into bed in a conspiratorial way. She tells her daughter, "you're old enough to know what a bastard your father is....... was...... he doesn't love you, never did, never could", she swears her to secrecy.

Swear it on your life, don't tell or you'll die, and whatever you do don't tell nanny. But she did. She told nanny all about the poison she's fed in the night as big tears roll down her little face, her toes curled under, her feet pointing inwards as she sits in her pyjamas on the stairs.

She believes her daddy doesn't love her. I tell her she won't die if she tells me and that her daddy does love her and her brother very much. We don't see much of them. This is how it is. They have been weapons of mass destruction since they were floating in their maternal waters.

Sometimes I wish I was still there, floating, in darkness. Safe. Innocent. Untouched.