The Swingset

[Poker Face]

Tyler says Faith couldn’t possibly remember what happened that day. But the Gunbat remembers, clear as day.


“Look Daddy, a Swingset!”
Faith giggled as she sat herself down upon the ancient swing. It was warm with a summer twang, the smallest shrub crawling up it’s metal poles. The girl ignored her sisters on the nearby bench, one in a boy’s arms, and one consumed by endless mobile phone chatter.
“Go on, Faith.” Her father answered softly.

“Want me to push you, Faithy?” Her brother asked, with an impossibly happy grin. The girl nodded, grinning back.
She looked so much like her elder brother. They shared the same innocent gleam.

She was only eight, petite and fragile, never seen without her favourite dress on. White as it was, the girl called it her ‘Angel’ dress.
Her Brother gave the girl a few starting pushes, just enough to give her the momentum to do it herself.
Once Faith was laughing and happily swinging herself, her brother stepped back and lay himself on the bench opposite his yapping sisters, watching the young girl. At the time, Faith hadn’t noticed the glaring hatred between her brother and her father.

She was too happy to care.

And then, something happened.
Before Faith could tell what was going on, she found herself flying through the air, over the road, and straight into the side of a building.
It was extremely painful. She was stuck, limbs mangled, broken and limp, stuck in between uneven bricks protruding from the building.


Faith doesn’t remember that it was Tyler that got her down.
She doesn’t remember that it was Tyler who took her to the hospital and waited patiently by her bedside while he waited for her to wake up.