A week after I was back home, I made some progress but the way to go was still very long.

This night, I didn’t sleep well. As I managed to sleep a few hours, an awful nightmare woke me up. I was sweating and shaking. I was in a grey car, it was very dark. Men and a couple – probably my parents – screamed an begged for mercy. I was told to be silent while I was hiding under a blanket. I heard muffled noise, victims moaned. Necks were broken, people shouted before they were hung, before they lost life. Where was I? Which reality did this recurring nightmare refer to? What about the escape at the back of a lorry in the thick night? Each time, I pictured me inside the truck. The tarp flopped in the wind, the awful petrol smell made me want to throw up. Someone was taking me away. Did he pull me off the executioners who hung and shot shamelessly. Who were my saviors? Who were the hangmen? Would I find out one day?