Nobody knows. Nobody sees what goes on between these four walls. They don’t hear you cry. They don’t see the way your eyes look into mine, pleading as I hold you down so they can save your life. They never see the days you can’t move or barely sit up. They never see your eyes drift to the window, wondering if outside still looks the same, wondering why you aren’t allowed to leave. They never see the tears that roll down your cheeks when your siblings leave. You so desperately want them to stay and play or you want to go home with them but you aren’t allowed.

Nobody is in our room when you stare into the distance, defeated by it all. They never see you curled up into a ball shivering and hurting. The nights we hold each other as your temperature soars but you shiver. The nights you wince and scream when I try to hold you because it hurts too much. They never see me sobbing beside you as you eventually drift off, watching you sleep, terrified you wont make it through the night. Nobody sees my tears fall on your pillow as those machines beep around you.

Nobody is there when you struggle to swallow, struggle to hold food down, struggle to drink, struggle to breathe. Nobody sees you trying to walk and your legs giving way beneath you despite your determination. Nobody sees the pain you are in simply trying to be a child.

Nobody sees me begging for someone to hear me, for someone to please let me keep you safe. To do my job as your mother. Day after day, night after night. That room. Those walls. Just us.. Nobody knows

Author;  A parent of PACT