I am woken up in the middle of the night by my dad knocking at my bedroom door and asking me to come out. Something feels off and I keep the door closed. Men in bck masks and tactical gear break down the door and drag me out of the room while one of them stays back and keeps a grip on my dad.

  I am brought down to the living room. I am told that my family is not in trouble, only me. No one will tell me what I have been accused of. Vague references are made that leave me wondering if it might be a mistake regarding things that I have looked up on the internet or people I am friends with.

  No one will tell me what I have been accused of.

  I am sat down at a table. A bald man in a suit hands me a red pamphlet with funeral preparation options inside. He politely tells me that my trial will be a mere formality.

  I am shaking and barely able to breathe with fear and anxiety. I dare not cry for fear that my tears will be seen as an admission of guilt.

  No one will tell me what I’ve been accused of.