Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop,

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock...

She stared at the innocent child she was cradling in her arms and the tears that she had been holding back to fall now dropped without restriction.

The baby cooed as if he understood the situation. He stretched out his hand and tried to reach his mother's face but it was her tears that his little hands caught.

She only had a wish, let them survive this day. Let them live through this war. Let her see her son grow up and make his own life.

Her feet up to her legs were numbed by fatigue. It had been for hours and hours that she had been running for their lives. Her body wanted to give up but it was her will to survive and her love for her son that made her to go on. All she needed to do was to cross the river and to reach the camps of their soldiers.

Her ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps and her heartbeat raced even faster. They were near but she still couldn't see the river. If she could only cross the river and reach the camp then her son would survive. Just a little farther...a few more meters from safety and...

Bang!

She fell on her knees but she secured her son in her arms. She tried to stand up once more but her legs couldn't support her any longer after it received another bullet from the enemy soldiers.

Her baby cried either because he knew that their lives were over or because his mother's embrace was smothering him.

She wailed when her son was forcibly taken from her and she lost her mind when the soldier carelessly tossed him up in the air and caught him with the tip of his sharp bayonet.

Everything became silent; all she could hear was the cries of her son that ended as soon as his tiny body touched the sword. All she knew was that her son is dead.

The warm blood splattered on her face was all that she could feel. The wounds on her body seemed to fade away as well as the things they were doing to her.

She did not care when they tore off her clothes or when they pushed her to the ground. She didn't see the smirks on their faces as they took her one after another. She didn't hear their mocking laughs. All she could ever care about was the mangled body of her son thrown beside her. She failed...her wish wasn't granted.

After finishing their business, one of the soldiers pointed his gun at her and blew up her head.

...When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,

And down will come baby, cradle and all.


A/N: These were only few of the tortures that people had suffered during World War II...