I sense deep fear in her voice too.
The overwhelming darkness slowly convulses slowly across the heavens, a great mass of coldness and fear rushing in from all direction. She holds me, her arms warm, that reminds me of a summer morning beating through the window onto my sleepy bed; she holds me as the cold slowly but steadily grips us.
The thunder of the mighty darkness shakes the air. It moves the hair over my forehead.
But though I sense deep fear in her voice too, she whispers, "we will get through this. We will get through this. Something will happen."
Her voice trembles. I could feel her breathing stiffen as the darkness engulf nearer around us.
I see no escape. I see no answer. Only darkness that keeps pressing in every second. How long will her arms remain warm? How long til darkness take over?
"Something will happen," she repeats shakily all the time, "He has his own timings. It will work out."
As much as I want to believe her, as much as I love her and want to believe every word she was saying, all I feel is my faith wavering, slowly, slowly, something I once held so confidently now seem to have forsaken me. Slowly but steadily, just like this great cold tidal wave spinning and spiraling closer and closer around us, is my trust in deliverance slowly but steadily spiraling away from me.
And I cling to my mother as close as possible wishing, wishing, only wishing that I could find us a way out of here, to take her back to warmth and life again, undoing everything and back to what it should have been...