Frenzied, whirling thoughts, guns laughing, piercing screams enveloping the thick, dusk air; her meek eyes interlocking with mine. My head is pounding, a cauldron of putrid, wretched thoughts. Rounds dance their choreography in the air, climaxing as sizzling lead meets innocent, tender flesh. This hell is no place for a child, a hell of greed, of thirst. This may be said for every child here, ever...