I dream in English now. I know the nightmare is coming when  I start dreaming in my own language. This dream is a memory burnt deep into my soul.  

My father opens the front door and the soldier raises his shotgun. The blast lifts my father off his feet and hurls him against the wall. More soldiers surge through the front door and my mother starts screaming. 

I am fourteen and small for my age; I could pass for twelve. Maybe this is why they don’t kill me. Instead, they tie me to a  chair and gag me, so I have to watch them rape my mother and sister.  

I count them twice. There are always ten soldiers in our tiny house.  

My mother pleads with them, ‘Leave my Susana alone! Do what you want to me. Don’t you touch her!’ 

But Susana is sixteen. All the boys in school are in love with her. She is both kind and beautiful, impossible to ignore. My mother’s cries for mercy turn to curses. ‘You will all die and be sent to hell! You will burn forever! You are weak! You are cowards!’  

One of the men steps forward and shoots my mother in the face…

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