I hated sacks.
Two callous hands belonging to the soldiers that had stolen me right out of my bed gripped both my biceps, my head covered with a sack. I wondered what was happening this time, how many times more I would be taken without my consent. Breathing still hurt my chest, breathing with a sack over my head almost suffocated me.
It had been five days. Five days of medication and constant care, of constant company. My father had been called away for one minute. Barely a minute had passed when these harsh looking soldiers that wore only black attires with no emblem, or symbol to show whose command they belonged to burst in. Barely a minute after my father left me by myself, promising to be back under an hour, these men had come in, put a sack over my head and spirited me away. Th
