Azan smiled as he lay back in the bed, pulling the thin sheet over him. "Yeah, I'll try." He said laughing a bit. He felt butterflies fly up into his stomach, he had never felt this way before. This isn't a sickly feeling... He said, shutting his eyes and taking one last sigh before trying to fall asleep. He began tossing and turning. After about twenty minutes, Azan finally got comfortable. The bed was hard, and the sheet didn't protect him much from the biting chill, but it wasn't bad. In fact, this was luxury compared to other places, he noted. The fire outside was still burning, he could smell the embers, Who could possibly be up at this hour? Dawn is going to crack soon... Not feeling like getting up, he rested his head on the uncomfortable pillow. Why must I live like this? He shut his eyes and fell asleep.
A scream rang through his ears, he was standing the middle of a dirt road, crying, clinging onto the limp form of his... brother? His hands were covered in his brothers blood, there were burning bodies and houses all around him. Suddenly, two of the raiders came out, followed by five of his comrades. They threw them on the ground, and began spitting on them. Azan tried to call out, but a strong hand blocked his face. He watched in horror as one of the raiders pulled out a pistol and rested the barrel in between one of the tribesmens head. He pulled the triggger, and Azan watched in horror as blood and brain spewed from the head. The man repeated this process to the rest of the five. They laughed, and walked over to the prisoners. The man that held Azan shoved him hard, and began beating him. He felt a strong lash across his face, tears running out of his face. His mouth was full of blood and dirt, he cried out as his mother was thrown out onto the street and murdered. He screamed aloud trying his best to get to her. To late. Two of the raiders pushed him back to the ground, and kicked him hard. He lay on the ground, writhing in pain and misery and the sight that he saw. The men were heartless, he heard more gunshots and screams. The village was nothing more than ash. He was lifted off the ground, and then smashed over the back of the head. Nothingness consumed him.
He awoke with a start, cold sweat ran down his face, his eyes were watery. He lay in the hard bed, a tear escaped his eye and ran down his face.