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  There’s a noise taking over my head, as if I’m being crushed from the inside. My ears are sensitive. I looked up, and the only thing I can see is the completely cloudy sky and Mom’s bck hair.

  "Second row, all those aged thirteen to nineteen! Don’t waste my time with pointless questions." The cold voice echoed in my ears again, leaving me frozen inside. It terrifies me. Now I know they’re not here out of charity.

  Mom hid her face for a moment, then sniffed loudly and straightened up. I looked at her. I’m upset and scared, but Mom is too—I know it.

  — Mom, you can’t cry, you have to stay pretty... — I reached up to tuck her hair behind one of her ears. She never liked having curly hair, so hers is straight, so straight—but she always loved my curls and Zane’s. — Your hair is so smooth... — I murmured, twirling a strand around my finger.

  Mom choked back a sob. Her red lipstick was smudged. Her hand stayed on my head, stroking the top. Zane was still crying like a baby, but I didn’t tease him and let him cry in peace.

  I still feel anxious and uncertain. I furrowed my brows and leaned closer to Mom, tilting my head. I parted my lips and whispered:

  — Mom, is Aunt Liora okay? She fell over there. — I pointed behind us, to the distant spot where I st saw her. Even though everything’s chaotic, we should’ve brought Auntie with us too.

  Mom shook her head, and her fingers tightened on my head—her fingertips are so cold. I looked at her and shrugged nervously. How is Auntie? Mom won’t say anything about what happened. Even though I’m just a kid, I’m not stupid.

  — Aunt Liora is fine. — Mom lied to me. I know she lied. My eyes stayed fixed on her face the whole time I asked about Auntie, but she still lied. I felt upset and turned my head, trying to look in that direction. The crowd had quieted down; I could still hear whispers... Mom stopped me from turning and pressed my head against her chest again.

  "Third row, all those aged twenty to thirty! Get in position properly!" The voice boomed, and the surrounding voices fell silent. The noise vanished. I could tell my ears had adjusted to the grating sound.

  Mom shuddered and turned her head, looking the other way. She loosened her grip on me slightly, and I gnced toward Aunt Liora’s direction. It was empty there... No one was left. The ground was stained. Auntie was still lying there.

  My heart pounded fast, and a chill ran through me. Auntie’s hair was spyed on the ground, her eyes open—it looked like she was staring at me. Her face was pale, her head wounded, blood trickling down into her eyes. The blood seeped in, spreading and staining the whites until they were completely red.

  I choked up, and even though I stiffened and the strength in my legs seemed to vanish, I couldn’t look away from Auntie. There were dirt marks on her face—she must’ve been trampled not long ago. My head hurt, and I felt sick staring at her body there.

  I know Aunt Liora isn’t alive, and it makes me want to escape her gaze. I know she’s looking at me. I turned my head away and clung to Mom’s waist, burying my face against her and hiding, swallowing my sobs and coughing quietly. I stayed like that for minutes, feeling like that image would be forever burned into my mind.

  The fourth row was for those aged thirty to fifty. Mom had to leave me and Zane. I grabbed Zane and didn’t let him run to her. I don’t want Mom to end up like Aunt Liora now. It scares me—it terrifies me. The mere thought of Mom looking like Aunt Liora does now makes me shudder. I’m trembling in fear.

  Zane opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and choked between sobs. His body jerked as he couldn’t stop crying. I held him by the shoulders and hugged him, running my hand through his messy curls:

  — Zane. Don’t cry. Stay quiet. — I murmured, worried we might get pulled out of line. Mom looked at us with sadness and tenderness. She gave a small wave, probably meant to encourage us.

  I’m sure we’ll see Mom again. She’s trying not to worry us now. I know she doesn’t want to end up like Aunt Liora. So, we have to follow the rows.

  — No! — Zane let out a wail, and I covered his mouth with my hand. He was crying, eyes red and swollen. Sobbing and shaking his head rapidly, — Mom! — He raised an arm, trying to leave the line and follow her. I yanked him back and held him tightly.

  — You can’t follow Mom! Do you want to end up like Auntie? — I cupped his face, forcing his eyes to meet mine. Staring deep into his eyes, I held back my own tears, swallowed hard, and tried to stop Zane from doing something stupid.

  — Like Auntie? — He whispered, and I could see his confusion. Now I knew—only Mom and I had seen what happened to Aunt Liora. I took a deep breath, trying to push the image from my mind and steady my shaking hands. I had to take care of Zane first.

  — Yeah, haven’t you heard the story about the aunt who tried to defy the soldiers? — I rubbed his back while thinking of something to scare him. People’s voices were still frantic, moving around, but we could stay in line if we paid attention. Zane shook his head, and his crying stopped. Still sniffling, I wiped his eyes with my sleeve and fixed the bangs stuck to his forehead. — That aunt was so unlucky she died from bad luck. — I murmured nonsense, distracting him. Thank goodness Zane is dumber than most kids.

  Zane looked surprised and curious about the story. I parted my lips and dodged the subject. Good thing I kept him in line—otherwise, he would’ve run after Mom.