Before

The fire raged at the figure, who was the single object of my adoration.

"Ma-maa!!!"

"No, little one you can't stay here. You have to run away-"

There was a loud bang, and my mother fell to the paved stones.

My shoes clattered on the pavement. 

"You're coming with us, little girl."

The rough voice was the last thing I heard before the canvas bag made its way over my head. Then I was welcomed into the soft, velvety blackness of unconsciousness.