He loves us all...

His sweaty cheeks pressed against the hot arid sand before his face rolled towards the desert sun. Fine grains of sand stuck to his skin, some got into his mouth as he fell. A few seconds passed, all he saw was the blue sky, pierced by halos emanating from the eye in the sky. At one corner of his fast-receding vision, he saw his body, arms bound behind his back, his knees and shin pressing against the ancient landscape. He could remember how his naked knees and shin felt, how they burned as he was forced in that position moments before now. He gasped for air, but like a fish forced out of the water, his lips and mouth just gaped, with no familiar sound of air each time a person takes a breath. At the corner of his eye, he could see his own heartbeat through the squirts of blood spewing from the top of his severed neck, every time his heart pumped. He thought, if only he could write this experience down and report it to the world. But his thoughts were interrupted by a growing darkness that descended too soon, like the end of video that ran out of tape; there was no rewind. ---------- She felt a fist bury into her eye sockets. The pain was severe; the prior agony of having a man force his desperate appendage into her dry vagina now had more company. Her senses were being overwhelmed by a tsunami of aches and shame. He continued to thrust, and grunted each time he did, and which each thrust her dignity, pride and life faded. No, it was collapsing chunk by chuck. She could not see herself living through the next second, but she did. In fact, she has had that thought an hour ago, but there she was, still lying pinned against the floor. The man had pressed his burly hands across her mouth with such force her teeth were bending inwards. The pain was constant, the humiliation was perpetual, and the only things different were the men pressed on top of her. ---------- The doll had many colors. It’s hair was yellow, the boy had only seen hair color like that in pictures he saw in town. The doll’s skin was fair, also a feature that exists only in pictures. The boy had never seen anyone with skin color as light as his doll’s. It was wearing a white dress; white like the clothes the boy’s mother wears every day, although the white is no longer as bright as he remembered. She was wearing red pants. The boy knew his doll was a girl because he had looked inside the red pants and found a smooth surface, and it was different from his. He would hold the doll by the hand everywhere. He would bring her to the side of the pond while they played. He would sit at the water’s edge with his feet dipped in the milky brown water, with the doll seated next to him and watch the sun set below the horizon. He loved doing that, it reminded him of his sister, who last year started to un-eat her food. Her eyes turned into the color of his doll’s pants. It was not long before his mother had to put her sister inside a hole and pour soil over her. One day the boy had tried to dig his sister out from the ground to play, but his mother was upset. The boy chose a different place to dig after that, free from grown ups who will just stop him. He found the doll in one of the holes he dug, and they were now best friends. He looked at the doll, how she did not need to eat, how she looks the same, always smiling, always happy; the boy wanted that. He lay down in a hole, covered his body with soil and waited for the doll to dig him up, so they can be happy together.