My name is Asinat and my little sister’s name is Asan. When the war started, I was 2 and she was 1. We had to flee, but the conflict spread to the place we had escaped to and my father was killed. His body was left for days before we saw it. We couldn’t afford a funeral – we couldn’t even afford food and I remember going 4 or 5 days without eating. 40 days after my father’s burial, we had to move again. I have found photographs of my father’s corpse when I was looking through my mother’s drawer. Sometimes I still feel like he’s alive and whenever I see other orphans, I am reminded and saddened. I woke up from dreaming about him one night, I ran to my mother excited, telling her how he wanted to see us. I am 7 and we have finally settled in a safe place. I don’t go hungry anymore and my mother has everything she needs to look after us; she says it’s because of Al-Ayn. I’m grateful for that, I can now focus on my future. I want to be a policewoman, so I can ensure no one gets killed unjustly.