66. The Unimaginable
I was in London with my dad when I was quite young, walking to a tube station to get home that night. I remember seeing a girl who must have been maybe nine or ten years old covered in scrapes and bruises. Clearly, something horrific had just happened to her. I could see scabs on her face and hands, asking people for help.
She was wearing a green tracksuit and pajamas, and she was thin with short brown hair. I don’t think my dad saw her, but I locked eyes with her as my dad pulled me along. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it—I’ve seen car crashes and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen an unalive body, but that was the thing I remember the most.
