No one finds their way to Hell on their own.
There is always someone willing to take your hand.
Their day arrives in the dark, bringing Catherine the realization that the movements of a clock are irrelevant to Time or the outcome of life.
Catherine knew her father was a killer.
She remembered the name of one of the girls.
She knew what each of them looked like.
He had died when she was young, her grandmother had always told her the truth and in the hours after her funeral her father will show her what he and she are capable of.
Catherine and the young girl have not slept.
They are strangers, no names spoken.
Catherine clings to the cold child and wonders what to pray for.
Time to stop,
or End?
* * *
"Nixon's dark verse will do wonders for popularizing poetry." - Teresa Fowler, Mixed Rhythms and Shady Rhymes