I think about that little girl a lot.
It all started on a dark, stormy night one month ago.
I had ignored the persistent, irritating knocking at the gate, but sat up abruptly as screams shattered the night five minutes later. A quick glance at my phone showed 9.45pm.
I muted the news on television and walked swiftly to the small window at the end of the corridor that overlooked the courtyard at the back of our compound. Cautiously lifting the latch, I peered out into the night. Continue reading