When the war came, Mother yelled “RUN!” and we ran to the docks.
The boat was crowded and leaky, and the captain said we needed to shed weight or we’d sink.
A dozen mothers and fathers jumped overboard and sacrificed themselves to save us.
Or so they thought.
The captain waited until dark before tossing the rest of the adults overboard and turning the boat around.
“I’ll sell the rest of you to the factories.”
Except me. I hid under some ropes and waited, and when he set out again, I slit his throat.
Now what? I ask the sky.