‘PLEASE DON T LAVE ME’
Staring at my phone, I willed it to ring. But as it remained silent in my hand, the minutes ticking by like seconds, I felt a growing, deep sense of dread.
It was close to midnight on 2 March 2019 and earlier that evening I’d received a call from my mum Debbie, then 54, to say that my brother Yousef, 17, was in Manchester Royal Infirmary, badly hurt.
My husband Mazen, then 32, had rushed there while I stayed with our three young children, and time passed agonisingly slowly as I waited for news.
Finally, in the early hours, the door opened and Mazen appeared. His drooping shoulders and broken expression sent an icy chill through me.
‘WE COULDN’T ACCEPT HE WAS GONE’
‘I’m so sorry. Yousef
