That day, it snowed.
We were having a good time. Throwing snowballs. Making snowmen.
My father was the first to go.
A gunshot to the head. A dagger to the spine.
Next was my mother.
She tried to buy time. To save us.
More bullets was what awaited her.
I ran. I ran and didn't look back.
Perhaps I was just scared. Perhaps I didn't want to look at them. But to me?
Cowardice.
I had a brother. He tried to fight them.
My sister was running with me.
That day, it snowed.