This was another English thing.

The child sat there at the table, clutching her doll as the bombs seemed to get louder, and closer.  A hand rested on the child's shoulder making her jump slightly. "It's okay," the older woman coo'ed as she brought the child into a comforting embrace. "Were going to be okay, you hear me Layla, were going to be fine," the older woman said as she pulled herself away from the child to look her in the eyes.

"Mother, when's father coming home?" Layla asked innocently, looking in the eyes of her mother, and failing to see the pain hidden.

"Soon darling, soon," the mother whispered, hiding her lie.

As the bombs got louder the child's nerves grew, and her mother found it more difficult to calm her down, especially once they were close enough to make the house shake. The vibrations of the ground were to severe for the wooden house to withstand. The mother realised this and got her daughter to pack some bags, she went to her room, but once inside the wooden death trap gave way and bits of rubble fell onto the child as she cried out in pain, hoping for a saviour.

Layla felt like she had been screaming for days, the sun had already set and the dirt cling'd to her face, she had cried for her mother multiple times, but each was in vain as she was greeted by a sickening silence. Under the rubble she still clutched her doll, and prayed that someone would come. She could feel the cold freezing her bare fingers and toes, although the sensation seemed to dissipate with each passing minute. Her throat was dry, and throbbing from pain as she had screamed till she could taste the rusty sensation in her mouth, her lips had cracked by the time the sun had come up. The warmth was welcomed as it unfreezed her purple hands as she tried to fight off sleep.

Soon she heard voices coming, she cried out in her raspy voice  but soon had to stop as she tasted the rusty liquid again. Just before the darkness took her she caught glimpse of a man coming over as he begun to wench her out of the rubble.

"Can you see her parents?" He asked as he got her free and wrapped her cold body in a blanket. One of the me gave him a small grim glance, before looking back at the area below his feet.

The man walked over, still cradling the now unconscious child and came over to the small hill of rubble. After looking down he had to look away, but looking once more, he could see the resemblance between the small child in his arms and the beaten, dead body still half under the rubble. 

He took the small child into the hospital and watched as they patched her up, he held onto the doll as he waited for her to wake up, yet hoping she wouldn't so he didn't have to give her the news. They had found photos of the family in the rubble, and they had recognised the man in the photo as one who had just previously died, now with her mother gone, she was an orphan. The man was brought out of his thoughts as the child stirred.

He came over to her just as she opened her eyes, he handed her the doll of which she brought close to her chest, her eyes seemed to show that she knew what he was going to say, yet didn't want to believe it. He couldn't bring himself to bring her the news, so he didn't. "What's your name?" He asked kindly, a small yet sympathetic smile on his face.

"Layla." She whispered.

"Well Layla. Your going to be living with me now." He said, and as sad as the girl looked, a small smile spread across her face as that small hope was given.