For seven days, I stayed cooped up in my room. I did not move from my current position. I hugged my bloodied knees to my chest. The door was left ajar, open to the outside world.
I waited for my mother to come. I waited for someone, anyone, to come check up on me. I waited for someone to appear on my doorstep, worried about my well being.
I just want someone to come and ask if I am okay.
Maybe I was too lonely. Maybe I was too insecure. I watch in silence as the servants crowd my brothers and are too enthusiastic to give them what they want.
Will my mother do that for me?
I watched in silence when one of my brothers scraped his knee. One of the servants quickly attends to his wound and tenderly blows on it. His mother immediately came to his side and comforted him. Her small slender palm brushed his hair gently.
Mother, will you brush my hair too?
