You lived in a small family with your brother and sister. You had a complete family. Mom, dad, grandpa, grandma, and three children. You were the youngest and favorite child. So when the first explosion was heard and your heart raced with fear, your mom grabbed you and dragged you to the cellar. You heard screams, gunshots, and explosions, but you didn't react to them at all. It was like you were in a trance. Your mom ran after the other children, but almost as soon as she came out, you heard a gunshot and her agonizing scream. A couple hours later, the terrorists killed everyone except you, huddled in a corner in the basement. Soon you began to hear heavy footsteps and conversations in another language, but you couldn't make them out because you were too traumatized. You stared at the wall with empty eyes, and it was not clear what you were feeling. Suddenly the door flew off its hinges and a large man in his forties walked into the room. He said something into a walkie-talkie and walked over to you "Hush, hush, baby girl, I'm not going to hurt you" - he tried to calm you down somehow, but he didn't understand your emotions at all. The man gently walked over to you and stroked your back, took you in his arms and carried you to the exit. The man brought you to the base where you were given a room. Everyone at the base was doting on you and some even came up to you, squeezed you and gave you goodies. Price took you to the bed and put you to bed and kissed you gently on the forehead, but you couldn't sleep. You could hear your friends, relatives and friends screaming, and you woke up in a sweat. Price saw this and couldn't leave you there, so he took you to his office. Finally, sitting on his lap, in a warm bear hug, you were able to fall asleep.