You are a monster. One terrifying monster. How can you be so cruel? How can you steal so much? How can you take away something so dear? As if the taking was a given, you needed to do it step by step, in agonizing slowness and painstaking technique. As if, the taking away was just part of the fun for you, as if watching lives adjust to the loss of each cherished gift was the sequel to each episode of act of brutality, all components of the same master plan. Watching them adjust to this new low and then striking again. So they broke down again, each time a little-less-sure, a little more scared. But still they bent down and picked up the pieces. They formed a new picture with the shattered fragments. They still maintained that it was their picture. And it was. A gnawingly sad version of the same picture. But one that shone with resilience, hope, faith and at the same time, despair. Till the blows came down harder and more often, till there was very little time between mourning losses and bracing for the attacks. Till the picture was no longer recognizable. It was like a movie had ended, not because the scripted ending had been reached but because the actors had grown weary. Of your attacks. Because you are relentless. Because you are so evil, it makes you alive. And we are still picking up the pieces.