And the sixth commandment is...

I've been reading about a ten-year-old girl who sets off to join her mother. Her grandparents take her to the railway station. Put her on a train and wave farewell. The train rolls out. They don't move. "We've made the right decision" - one of them whispers. "Yes" - the other nods. And they are full of fear. The mother is waiting at another railway station. Waiting for her daughter. And she is full of fear. The girl travels across half of Europe. She boards the train a ten-year-old girl. In her hand is a bag with her guinea pig in it. She is looking out the window. What she sees is tanks, hospitals flattened by bombs, houses in ruins, dead bodies scattered in streets. People clinging on to each other, sobbing. Then the view changes. Peaceful land, well-lit cities. Halfway into her journey, she has to change trains. In a foreign country. She asks for help. The helpers take her to their home. They feed her, bathe her, put her to bed and watch over her while she sleeps. The way they do with their own children. The next day they take her to the station, put her on a train. Then they wait. When the little girl gets off the train, her spirit has aged a hundred years. What she has seen and what she has lived through should never be seen and lived through by any child. What she has seen and what she has lived through should never be seen and lived through by anybody.

The helpers receive a text message in the evening. I am safe with my mum. This is the right thing to do because they helped her. They cared for her. They watched over her while she slept, instead of the people who had ruined her peaceful little world. So that she can no longer have a childhood or any dreams at all.

... Thou Shalt Not Kill!