It was a dark, quiet night in the mountains. My parents and I had heard the guerrilla was coming to our town. Everyone was scared.

That afternoon, my father spoke to neighbors who wanted to leave. My parents decided we had to go that night. There wasn’t much time.

My mother packed a few things: blankets, some food, and water. We left quietly, hoping no one would see us. My heart was beating fast.

As we walked, we heard voices far away. There were gunshots too, so we hurried. My father said we were almost at the meeting place.