The newspaper headline screamed at Allan. He couldn't believe his eyes, the picture opened up so many old wounds...

She was sitting so helpless, prying at every emotion in black and white. "Surely the girl couldn't be more than two years old," thought Allan to himself. Pigtails disheveled, the girl sat next to a heap of twisted sticks and rubble that had once been her home. Her eyes were stoic, endearing, as she clutched a hold of her teddy bear as if she would lose that to. Allan knew loss. Beth had been two and she had loved pigtails. Allan could remember Beth getting so excited whenever she got to wear them and she would toss her head from side to side, her blond tails going a mile a minute. That was two years ago, and those were better times. In less than five minutes Allan had lost everything; his home, his wife, and yes, even little Beth. They just hadn't been prepared, they didn't know that what loomed ahead could be so powerfully destructive..