"Shh...Jasna," he tried to quiet the small girl, holding his daughter tightly, shielding her small body with his own. Her cries turned to shrieks of terror when bullets struck too close, and riddled the the mortar beneath the windows of their own apartment.
"Shh, Tata's got you baby." What more could he do? It was too late to leave the City, too late to do more then stay clear of the windows when the fighting was at it's worst. He lifted his head briefly to seek out his wife, though he knew even as he did that she would be little more then a mound of blankets as she shielded their young son from the same dangers.
What kind of Father was he? What kind of a life was this? All their children knew was fear and sacrifice, would they even remember how it had been before the war? What it had been like to walk outside and feel sunshine on their faces, to feel the breeze as it tugged at their hair?
How could he ever begin to make amends for doing this to them? For stealing them away from what their childhood should have been and thrusting them into the madness that only adults should have to face? How could he explain to them how he had placed his education above their own safety?
That was his greater fear wasn't it? That he would one day have to explain why he had chosen for them to stay when they'd still had a chance to leave? That he'd have to explain how he could have placed his career over the safety of his family?
"Shh, baby, Tata's got you, " But that would come later, much later, all that mattered now was getting through the night.
Muse: Luka Kovac