The battle waged on, stronger than ever, and the poor girl was lost. Who was she? Why was she so different from the others? The questions haunted her more than the others, but she carried on with as much might as possible by a little girl, perhaps even more than the ordinary.
Day after day, she kept her chin up and walked those crowded corridors, feeling lonelier than ever. She had no friends, she had no ties except for her beloved father, the man who raised her alone, the man who would share no fairy tales and a man who truly loved his daughter.
She loved him more than the world. But of course, that isn’t much of a comparison.
How could one love this world? This world of hate and vengeance?
She often asked him, “Father, when will I become a part of this world?” Although he never answered, always looking away, never wanting to face the truth, it only made her more curious.
But of course, when her cold lifeless body lay among the rubble of their sins, he quietly whispered “Today, you are truly part of this world.” and wiped away a tear with the rugged sleeve of his plaid shirt. He picked up his cold daughter, for one last time and disappeared into the night before anybody could take notice of a little girl wanting to be a part of this world and a father, who had just lost his world.