The little children sat, huddled together for warmth.

It was cold.

So cold.

Their insides and bones felt as if they were being crushed and splintered, squeezed and twisted like a mangled rope. The pain, oh god the pain; it was a feeling they hadn’t grown used too, even after all these years.

Fingers tangled with fingers, arms wrapped around arms; the children huddled…seeking comfort. Comfort they had not had in a long, long time.

They remember those days. Each one different than the rest, and yet still somehow the same.

A rabbit with fur of yellow.

A joyful jump in his voice.

An inviting offer for fun.

A cake.

A lost dog.

A friend.

Their screams were drowned by the excitement and music in the other room.

They screamed for mercy, screamed for help, but deep down, each one of them knew it was never to come.

They all remember the taste of their tears, the taste of their own blood.

They remember that scorching laugh as they felt pain shooting through them.

They remember grabbing onto the bunny of yellow. Hoping…praying…their friend would stop hurting them.

And every single child remembered sitting there…with their last few breathes flowing through their lungs, how they wished to be home with their toys.

With mommy.

With daddy.

With warmth.

And now…they are huddled together.

Fingers tangled with fingers, arms wrapped around arms; they sought warmth.

They sought comfort.

For they were cold.

So…very cold.

But one child reminds them every day, that they will all be put back together. One child. One boy. One son.

“Tomorrow is a new day.”