Shadow of Resistance

Chapter Twenty Four

I keep counting days using the sound of the bird. At least for the first 8 days, until I heard a gunshot while the bird was singing. This was the last time I heard the bird. I don't know if they shot the bird or if they shot another prisoner and the bird was too scared that it didn't return again. It is really possible that they killed the bird as all the Israelis hate this bird cause it carries our name.

Days pass in the same monotonous way. They haven't removed my handcuffs or the blindfold since the trial. Every few days, they bring me a bucket of water to drink and leave me without any food. I've lost count of the days, and probably lost a significant amount of weight, and I'm afraid I'll lose my mind soon.

I hear the door opening, but this time I don't hear the sound of the bucket. Instead, someone walks toward me and leads me to another place. Finally, he removes my blindfold. My eyes hurt terribly as the lights hit them when I try to open them.

I see that I am in a small prison enclosed yard with grey walls on all four sides. Each wall has closed doors. I see about a hundred people sitting on the hard concrete floor handcuffed with their hands behind their back just like me.

I feel like I'm suffocating inside, trapped in a haze of overwhelming feelings even though I can breathe just fine. The looks on their faces are terrifying. Every one of them has a bruise somewhere in his body. I even hear one of them moaning from pain.

"Hey, don't be scared. You will soon get used to that." An old man near me says with a smile.

I go and sit next to him. He is bald and his face is full of wrinkles. He looks like he is in his 70s with his white beard and white eyebrows. "What did he do to be beaten that way?" I ask, looking at the person moaning.

"Nothing. This is the usual here. Everyday some of them come and beat two or three of us without any reason." He says casually.

His words shocks me to the core, I look at him shocked and speechless.

"Don't worry that much. As I told you, you will get used to that." He says. "My name is Jawad and you?"

"I... I am Kareem" I respond.

"Nice to meet you Kareem, I wish I have met you in better conditions than this" He says. "So tell me why did you end up here? Were you protesting or were you grabbed out of your home?"

I know he is trying to change the subject, but I just keep thinking of what could happen to me.

"I punched an IDF soldier after he killed my father." I say.

"You what?" he asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise. The look on his face alone leaves me breathless with fear.

"I mean, I am sorry for your loss," he says. "Look, I won't lie to you. Days here are hard, but they will pass. Trust me."

The door opens, and five soldiers walk in. One of them bends and looks at me, smiling a big, scary smile. "You're the new one here, right?" he asks.

My heart races, and before I can open my mouth, he lands his fist on my face. The hit is so strong that I worry I might lose a tooth.

It seems that was just the beginning. All five of them start kicking me with their hard boots, hitting every part of my body as forcefully as they can. One of them presses his boot on my head, pushing it against the floor, while another kicks me in the stomach. Two are pounding on my back, and the fifth is kicking me in my balls while I can't even cover it with my hands as they were handcuffed behind my back.

I try as hard as I can not to make a sound, refusing to give them the satisfaction they crave. I won't let them feel stronger. They keep hitting me harder and none of them stop until I pass out.

When I wake up, every part of my body is sore and in horrible pain. I feel dizzy as I try to open my eyes. I sit up and look around me.

"Thank God, you're alive. I thought you were dead," Jawad says in surprise.

I slowly move my neck to my right to him. "Do people often die from beatings?" I ask while I can hardly open my mouth.

"No, just one or two each month," he responds.

I don't know how he is being so cold. I guess he has been here for years. I turn to my left and see a teenager staring at the floor.

"Hey, what is your name?" I ask.

He turns his head towards me slowly. I see the tears in his eyes. "I don't know." He says, then turns his head away and starts crying his heart out.

I look back to Jawad "How long has he been here?" I ask.

"Six months." he replies.

"Six months and he can't remember his name?" I ask in shock.

"Not all of us can stand what happens here. Look at me, I stopped counting after my ninth year here, and I still remember my name and my little daughter." he says, despair evident in his voice.

"Nine years! How long have you been sentenced?" I ask in shock.

He laughs and says "Three years."

"What are you doing here so they keep you for more than nine years?" I ask.

"What do you think a handcuffed old man like me could do?" He replies in mockery.

His words terrifies me. Does this mean I am going to stay for more than a year here? What about my mum and my family? What about Sarah? Will I be prisoned here forever?

I put my head between my legs and close my eyes, trying to absorb what is happening. All of these shocks are hard to take in one day. Eventually, I fall asleep in this position, overwhelmed by the pain.