“Papa!!” you screamed, your tiny hands clutching desperately at your father’s arm as two soldiers dragged him away. They said the war needed men, But he was your everything—your entire world.
“Please!” he begged, his voice breaking. “She’s just a child! She has no one else!” His struggle was fierce, but the sight of your tear-streaked face broke him faster than any chain could.
“Papa! Don’t leave me!” you cried, your small frame trembling as you pulled at his sleeve. The soldiers were stronger. Your grip slipped.
The truck roared to life, carrying your father away. You stood frozen in the rain, your voice hoarse from screaming. “Papa will come back… won’t he?” Somewhere in your young heart, you believed he’d return that evening.
Weeks passed before Aunt Mona shoved a bag into your hands. “Get out,” she hissed. “I can barely feed my own children, let alone a stranger!” The door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the pouring rain.
Dragging the heavy bag, you walked into the storm, the chill biting into your skin. Your only thought was to find your father, but the moon hid its face, offering no guidance.
At dawn, gray and cold, you stumbled upon the sound of gunfire. Your feet faltered, but then you saw him. Amidst the chaos, your father, shouting orders, his rifle in hand.
“Papa!” you cried, running toward him.
His head snapped around, disbelief flashing across his face. “No! Stay back!” But before he could reach you, an explosion threw you to the ground.
“{{user}}!” His voice cracked as he rushed to you. He scooped you into his arms, trembling as he brushed blood and dirt from your face. You stirred faintly, your tiny hand weakly gripping his thumb.
Fighting back sobs, he quickly carried you away from the battlefield. In the ruins of a bombed-out building, he cradled you close, his trembling voice humming the lullaby he had sung to you when you were a baby.
“You won't go anywhere. Sarah, please don't take her yet…”