eulogy

I thought that I would live my life in relative peace, that at the end of it all, when I stared death in the eyes, I wouldn't regret too much. 

I lost my daughter today. Our city was one of the first cities to get hit. I lost her today, and she was so scared. She died calling out for me, died with her hand grasping her teddy bear instead of me. I watched her crumple to the ground like a rag doll, just to come back up again, her eyes hungry, insatiable. 

The neighbor did it. She was the one who always picked my baby up when I was running late for work. My daughter always trusted her. And today she died because of that trust.

I could have saved her. Should have saved her. It should have been me. It should have been me screaming for her to run, run far away and to not look back.

But instead, I ran.

And I've never regretted anything more.

I'm hidden in the cellar of a house three blocks away from the park that my daughter loved. The swings were her favorite.

I can hear them coming, knocking on every door, groaning.

But let them come to me. 

My screams will be the eulogy my daughter never got.