The small group of soldiers marched into the occupied territory with guns and torches in hand. It was well beyond midnight and all hope seemed lost as the moonlight illuminated the illuminated the terrified faces of the children dwelling there.

'Round up the young ones!' yelled one of the soldiers, who stalked around the corner with a ragged and intimidating beard.

The leader of the group then pointed to one of the children in particular: a young boy with long black hair who had surprisingly feminine features. The leader of the group shouted 'That one too! Come here!'

The boy shuffled forward slowly, his chest heaving with fear as the group of soldiers surrounded him.

'What's your name, boy?' demanded the leader, who towered over the boy while his comrades grabbed the frightened girls.

'J-Julian,' stammered the boy.

'How old are you, Julian?'

'I'm 11.'

The leader scoffed. 'This isn't your lucky day then, is it? We don't care how old you are.'

Despite Julian's pleas for mercy, the soldiers dragged him along with the other children to a nearby warehouse. When they all arrived, the soldiers ordered the girls to strip down, which they obeyed while Julian shivered in terror.

Julian's sister, who was among the group of arrested children, called out to him while the soldiers tore her clothes off.

'Julian, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry,' she sobbed.

'It's okay sis,' Julian replied weakly, unsure of what else he could say.

After the girls had been undressed, one of the soldiers ordered the group to step back, revealing Julian's male anatomy.

'You too?' the leader cried out in shocked laughter. 'You almost got away with deceiving us, kid!'

The leader then ordered his comrades to rape Julian.

'Hey,' he said, turning back to Julian, 'This is what happens when you cross the wrong people. Remember that.'

The other soldiers grabbed Julian and threw him to the ground, their rough hands pushing him down.

Julian squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face as the soldiers abused him in every way imaginable. He begged God to take him away, to make it stop, to end it all.

When they were done, the sweated soldiers stepped away from Julian, laughing and joking in their grim satisfaction. With a cold heart, they ordered the boy to stay and face his fate.

Julian was trembling, his fear overwhelming him.

'Please,' he beseeched, 'let me go. I won't tell anyone about this. I promise.'

But the leader only shook his head and ordered his comrades to step back. Then he took out his gun and put it in Julian's quivering mouth.

'No one shall remember your name, boy,' he said with an ice-cold look in his eyes.

Just then, Julian's sister stepped forward and grabbed the leader's gun. She begged him to spare her brother's life, but the leader only laughed and aimed his gun back at Julian.

Just then, Julian felt strangely calm. He embraced his death and realized that what he had seen in his life was a momentary glimpse of happiness. He closed his eyes, his body tense, as the leader pulled the trigger and his head exploded.

Julian was gone. Tears streamed down his sister's face, her screams reaching the sky. But it was too late. Her brother had become a martyr, sacrificed so that the other children could live and remember the horrors of this night.