“His family still refuses to talk about what happened that night”

“Everyone cried that it was too late”

It had been a month since the Jirag’ai Junta Rallies. The family still refuses to talk about what happened that night. It’s like it never happened at all. But I know better. I can see the pain in their eyes, even now.

I was only 10 years old at the time, but I remember it like it was yesterday. We were all gathered together in the living room, watching the news reports come in. My parents were so hopeful that things would change for our people. That we would finally be free from the oppression of the government forces.

But then…it all went wrong. The riots turned into a bloodbath, and our city was burned to the ground. Thousands of people died that night…including my parents.

I was taken in by my aunt and uncle, who live on the other side of the country. They’ve tried to shield me from what happened, but I can’t help but wonder what became of my home and my family members who stayed behind. Every day, I pray for their safety… even though they may be long gone by now.