Page 5 of Scars of Fate

The abandoned textile warehouse had become a prison for nearly thirty innocent people.

Doctors.

Aid workers.

A priest.

Two nurses.

Three journalists.

Families who had been in the wrong place when the militia swept through the refugee camp.

Outside, armed guards laughed around a fire.

Inside…

Hope disappeared a little more every day.

I tied off the little girl’s bandage before giving her a smile.

“There. You’ll have a scar.”

She looked up at me with enormous brown eyes.

“My daddy says scars mean we’re survivors.”

A lump formed in my throat.

“Your daddy sounds like a very smart man.”

She smiled.

The first real smile I’d seen from her in days.

It made every risk worthwhile.

Across the room, Dr. Janice Turner finished checking another patient before walking over.

“You’re exhausted.”

“So are you.”

She smiled.

“I slept three whole hours.”

“Show-off.”

Despite everything, we laughed.

The sound lasted barely a second.

Someone pounded on the steel door.

Every smile vanished.

The heavy door screeched open.