I kept myself buried in the blanket she had made for me. It was so difficult to handle the disgruntlement and poignancy she had conferred me that I refused to get out of bed, for a while. The faint amount of sanity she had left me compelled me to talk in my head, complaining how unreasonable she was, how she shouldn't have done what she did, as if there was someone who had enough credibility to comprehend what I was going through, to fully understand my side even if it was difficult for the world to. Frustration had taken over me, at least that was what I thought.
I felt her approaching me, while trying to reason why another innocent "turned against her" in her daily preach.
"I believe in what she has just said in the phone," I said hesitantly.
"You really think so? That she is worth the trust?"
"Because even you didn't believe in me. I would totally understand how difficult it is to be not trusted."
I was still tucked in the blanket. I didn't know uttering those words would bring tears to my eyes. I thought I was only frustrated at the unjust treatment. I was wretched and grief-stricken in fact that I almost gave it away in the tremor of my voice. But yes, she didn't even realize the importance of what I had just said. And I could only come to comforting myself under the blanket with the shed of devalued tears and gathering myself together afterwards.