She doesn’t cry—her throat forgot the sound. No food. No water. Just a mother’s stare. Her child’s bones knock like glass beneath her skin. They wait for death. No doctor’s hands, no light. A school is shelled. The chalkboard bursts in blood. The maths is simple: one bomb kills a class. The lies are printed fresh on every screen— "We target threats." But infants make no war. A surgeo...

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