Six years ago

A mother pulls her child away from a house.

"Mommy, I don't wanna leave! Can I stay?"

The girl is only six or seven years old, clearly having fun.

The mother leads the girl away.

Six years later

"Pray, my daughter."

The girl is now twelve. She's safe and sound, happy and content.

Her uncle, however, is in need of help.

He's been in the hospital for almost a year, needing a walker to even walk a few steps, cancer growing, and sedated for a few weeks to receive treatment. Her uncle has now woken off, and the last bits of sedative are wearing off.

He hasn't talked, not to the extent of her knowledge. Hasn't moved, either.

Although he's now in critical condition.

Her mother tells her to pray.

She goes outside. It's winter, and cold, but she doesn't care. She cries, and prays, until she has nothing left to give. She can only hope someone else can give more.

And somehow, she cries again.

It was her cry for help.

But would it be answered?

Apparently not. 

–––

Do you think this is based on real events? 

Well... it was. 

Some details were altered for the sake of... storytelling (I really hate myself right now for doing it like this), but most things are based on everything I know about the situation. 

A few hours ago (around noon, to be exact), my family received word that my uncle was in critical condition. That was when I started writing this. I went out to see a friend, and got back around half an hour ago. Just around ten minutes ago, the news came. 

My uncle died. 

Seems like my cry for help was too late to get to you. I was going to ask you to help me pray, help me wish for a better tomorrow, a better future for him. That was my original plan, until... until now. I might be taking a break, OR I might be throwing myself into this with every single fiber of my being as a coping mechanism... we'll see. Anyways, thanks. Thanks for giving me the truth that you guys would be here. I trusted that. So thank you. 

~Lily