In a tunnel beneath the earth, the child's breath is sweet and damp. It comes in small white puffs. She is hiding, cringing every minutes or so when she remembers what she screamed, what truth she revealed when she let her fear and disgust and anger overflow. The guilty tears that flooded her eyes soon after did not stop, not even when she took refuge beneath the dirt and sky.
Art by Kirsty Mitchell
Text by Lucie MacAulay
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