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, every unfortunate soul doomed to dance with death. My pulsating thoughts narrowed my vision, bloodcurdling cries rung out as hell on earth answered their calls. My child, a child born of nothing, began to shake uncontrollably. The hot, scorched earth raged on in all her terrifying glory, the child a cold comparison. An explosion nearby sets off a cacophonous shrilling, an orchestra of pain unrequited. Death had come to our doors, indifferent, unforgiving.