“Get out of my house!”, Screamed my mother, as the awful men stormed in. Carrying big weapons they looked down on us with eyes that reflected the darkness of their souls.

I was too young to understand. I was too young to understand why for the past few days, my mother would sit there crying and trembling in front of the television. I was too young to understand why there was a gun pointed to my nana; a fragile 67 year old woman who’s body was completely paralysed. The men who spoke alien words I did not understand, didn’t care for they didn’t see me us as humans, when in reality, the hatred in their hearts had turned them into monsters and it was them who truly were no longer human.

I was too young to understand why these grown men took away my innocence, entering me, tearing me and not only hearing my pain but enjoying it, laughing as my mother cried and my father screamed, charging at them. They cut off my fathers hand, and to this day I can see the blood, my father helplessly falling to the floor and the expression on his face. They carried on till they got bored of me, till the deed was done and I was left there with my clothes torn as they proceeded to destroy my family home after they had already destroyed me. I hurt, I felt and saw blood down my legs but I did not understand. As the blood seeped down my legs, the darkness from their eyes seeped into my soul.

One thing that I began to understand as I grew older was that no matter how old I get; I will never understand.