t2-nd-d1

"...and I looked up to him, and he didn't look at me. He stared straight ahead.
"And I said, 'What?' And he said, 'Leave.' And I knew what he meant...and he meant it. My heart shattered, or melted, or whatever hearts do when they break," she said, frustrated. "And before I knew it I was five again, and my brother was leaving me to die in some Godforsaken place, and everything in the world I loved was dead." The mention of her brother started tears cascading down the sides of her face. The fire crackled. It didn't care about her. It was as cold and unfeeling as the dark, speckled expanse above them.
"And I said, like it was going to matter, 'Daddy, I don't wanna go,' and he still didn't look at me, and then I started to cry." She coughed, then lay back and propped herself up on her elbows, letting her head fall backwards to face the sky. "I've been so tired. And I've been scared. I've become...I don't want to become a jaded corpse," she whimpered. He listened intently. The fire seemed to cast more flicker on him than her. It made him look like a calculating predator, but she didn't notice. Her tears became heavier, yet her voice remained unaffected.
"And he still didn't look at me, and I started to cry, and then I looked straight ahead like he was...and I said, like I was telling him this, 'I can't stand it.' I looked up at him, and I was still five, and my brother was still leaving, and he walked away. And the worst thing is, I know I couldn't have done anything in the world to hurt him more." The tears reached and moistened her ears. Her voice gave a little as she looked into the blackness for some comfort. There was none. Only emptiness.
"And I stood there, crying like I am right now. Then I slashed my wrist and I walked away. And...and..."

Her voice relented, and so did she. Her world abruptly dropped from vision.
She slept.


(Grammatical liberties taken, excerpt, source redacted, and no one should know what I read, except to note that I love campfire scenes.)