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My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never thought it possible.
That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death.
You can go if you wish, but I will be staying here with your mother and the little one.
Father I don't want to leave you, but I think its a good idea to go.
Maria, our former maid, came to see us. Sobbing, she begged us to come with her to her village where she had prepared a safe shelter. Father refused.
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