Milica Rakic was born in the dawn of January 9, 1996. Brother Aleksa
who has now turned six rejoiced at that moment. Milica was killed on
April 17, 1999 at 9:45 p.m. In the little bathroom, in Dimitrije Lazarevic
Rasa street, house number 8, first floor, Batajnica. The shrapnel smashed
the little window and tore the curtain.

Milica was sitting on the potty.  Her mother Dusica left the bathroom
for a second and went to prepare Milica's bed. For her to sleep in.

The door of the bathroom was open, and the shrapnel shot straight
through the entrance door. It was yesterday afternoon. Milica's dress
is hanging on the line in the bathroom. It was washed before that, to
be ready for an outing on April 18. A red dress, with an embroidered
kitten sleeping in a basket. The apartment is a modestly furnished, a
one and a half room home. Full of warmth. The warmth is gone. The
face of Zarko Rakic (43), father, has suddenly got new lines. Milica's
mother Dusica has avoided death by an instant. She wishes she had
not.

Brother Aleksa is surrounded by his friends.

- My little sister is gone - he explains.

The bathtub is full of glass. The lavatory is smashed, the wall tiles
broken.

- And her little head... - one can hear a voice from the room say.

An abrupt explosion, nothing could be heard before that. The face of
the house is pierced with holes that have been dug in the white wall of
the building number 8.

- I ran barefoot into the bathroom - says Zarko. He thinks about the
words he has uttered. Then, turns his head around. Meets Dusica's
eyes. Looks at us. - I took her, ran down the stairway, rushed into the
car... I drove on, although I knew she was gone. I drove on. In the
hospital, they took her away from me.

Zarko's sister Milka Bogojevic, professor: I heard the detonations. The
radio said that Batajnica had been struck. My sister-in-law Dusica
answered the phone. She said: Milica has been hit. I did not know what
that was supposed to mean... Now I do, and I can't understand. I've left
my son Ilija, a six-year-old - Milica's brother. She was his closest... I
told the others not to tell him anything. I will do that, if I feel capable.

Bogdan Mirilovic (71) a neighbour: - My house is across the street. A
detonation was heard. Then I heard a scream. That was the most
frightening scream I had ever heard in my life. Then the wailing.

Femi Sumeti (37) a neighbour from number 10, recounts that after the
explosion everything was covered with black smoke that pricked the eyes.

In the house across the street, one of the shrapnels hit Drazen Jankovic
(21): When it exploded we all fell down. I was hit in the lower leg. This
morning they extracted a piece of shrapnel from my leg but they are
suspecting that there may be more left. I used to play with Milica. She
was such a happy little girl. She always used to run around.

The bathroom wall tiles are decorated with little pictures - the whole
wall right to the door. The door was open. Death shot through the little
window.

- The doctor told me that the news were unfavourable - says Zoran
Blagojevic, Zarko's sister's husband. That was at midnight. What was
unfavourable? I asked without being able to reason.

Zarko is from Bosanski Petrovac, near Drvar. He came to Belgrade in
the late seventies. He met his wife-to-be in Bezanija. Their place of
birth was taken by the Muslims. Zakro's father and mother are now in
Derventa, he says, and "they live on no man's land and in nobody's
house". Zarko is a mechanic, his wife Dusica is a worker. They set up
their home in Rasina street, number 8.

- Milica made a picture of some tulips the other day - for herself,
recounts their cousin Danijela Dukic, a doctor. - Tulipcs, yellow and
red.

Their neighbours and their friends sat down on two sofas. Someone
mentioned destiny, as well.

Do not speak about destiny - said Zarko. Don't anyone tell me about
destiny!