"My name is Jeanne Blanchard. I come from France. Let me
tell you a story. It is a story about a childhood stolen
away, innocence taken away brutally far too soon; it is the
story about me.

I was thirteen years old. I came back from school. The
house was quiet. A weird feeling went through my veins.
Something was wrong. Although my mother was abroad, my
father always made sure we had our lunch waiting on the
table. The table was empty and the lights were out. I turned
around to the socket, at that moment I was blindfolded.

When I woke up it was dark. I could see it through the holes
in the box. I heard people talking. They were talking a
language I didn't know. After a few moments my memory came
back. I knew this language. It was Pakistani Arabic, my
father spoke it. The next thing I knew I was in a car,
driving a potholed road. Through the holes and the window I
could see the view.  It was beautiful as ever. As though
nothing has happened.
It was dawn. The sky was lilted with wonderful colors. The
sand was glowing and seemed endless. I began sweating in the
box. It was hot and dry. My head felt dizzy. I was nauseous;
I haven't drunk or ate for hours.  I could see houses
further away. I fell asleep.

We stopped.

I looked up. The lid was open. I crawled out side. My whole
body ached terribly. A repulsing man stood in front of me.
He sneered at me. He gave me a bucket to fetch water from
the well. I didn't move, and then he kicked me hard down to
the ground.  The sun burned my skin. I was week, exhausted
from the long drive and the lack of water and food hadn't
done me any good. Or so I thought, I could never imagine
that minutes later I would be feeling much worse.  The well
seemed miles away on the other side of the world. I couldn't
make it. But I did. I don't remember how, I crawled back
with the bucket full of water in my hands. The man took the
bucket from my hands and spilled it with a laugh.  He held
my wrist firmly and dragged me screaming to a tent. Three
old women sat inside. They undressed me. Quietly my tears
came down. The entire thing that was held in me burst out. I
missed my mother. More than anything I wanted her to hold me
in her arms.
I closed my eyes, thinking about my mother, I felt arms
around me. For a moment I thought it was my mother, who came
out of my dream.