It’s been three weeks since we have been brought to the camp. All I think is, there’s not enough. There’s not enough room, as the barracks are tiny and cramped. There’s not enough food, as what we get is not enough to feed a child. There’s not enough, because all we used to have has been taken away from us.

The guards make us work from dawn to dusk. People come and people go. We do not know where they come from, but we know where they go. The chambers. I thank God that I have lived this long.

The camp is an endless nightmare. The nights are filled with restless sleep among the thousands of us that are crammed together. The stench of fear seeps through everything, and we all stand in the shadow of an impending death. The days are just continuous hours of backbreaking work that I think has been the cause of death for some of us.

I think of the term that I used to hear when I was back in civilization, not in these camps. Mercy killings. After how we are living here, perhaps to kill is to show mercy on us.