Barefoot and filthy, Tabarek cries in pain as she lies at a military screening point in the rubble of the ancient city of Mosul.

She’s 15. Her injury means she can’t walk, and her father is gathering his strength before picking her up again to piggyback her to safety in 45-degree heat.

Tabarek’s bright red dress obscures the fluids seeping from a mortar wound to her stomach. Her wound was stitched up a month earlier in an Islamic State hospital before she was kicked out to make way for military casualties; the wound has since reopened.

Her body is like a bundle of twigs. For a month, as war has raged around her, she’s eaten nothing, a saline drip helping her cling to life.

Her father picks her up to continue their journey out of the city. She screams in agony as they walk. We do not know if Tabarek lived or died.