Victims at sixteen - it just didn't seem fair. Why did they have to lose their lives in that manner? Why did their parent have to weep over their emaciated bodies? It isn't fair, is it?
Remember your beautiful daughter running down the stairs on a sunny morning. Her sillohuette danced against the glare of the mid-summer's sun as you watched from the breakfast table. You sipped your coffee and pushed up your glasses to admire the child you brought up with love to love her family and herself.
Now look at her as she lies in her coffin - her face pale with malnourishment and death. You will never get to see her graduate; you will never get to see her get married; you will never get to see her be happy ever again. Where did the girl you saw dancing in the sunlight go? No longer in your arms, she now will rest in the ground and buried together with her is the sadness she never got to tell you about.
You swear to leave her bedroom untouched.
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