Shadow of Resistance

Chapter Twenty Six

About two years have passed since the day they arrested me. The days in prison have become monotonous, between beatings and humiliation. As Jawad told me, I've grown accustomed to hunger, thirst, and the constant pain. But the humiliation, the way they treat us like animals, I never got used to that.

Five soldiers enter with keys jangling. This usually means that they will take some of us out of here, though we never know to where. We hope they're being freed.

One soldier approaches me, blindfolds me, and hauls me to my feet. They lead us out of the yard and into a car.

I can't believe I am finally getting out of there. There were days I thought I would be stuck here forever or die during one of the beatings. I don't think I could have survived it all if I hadn't memorised half the Quran before I was imprisoned. The Quran was my companion throughout this whole period. Every time I felt desperate or broken, I would recite parts of it, and my despair would magically disappear.

Thanks to God, I have reached this point. I have survived terrible things. I was blessed that the soldier didn't choose me again during this whole period although this is not always the case. I am blessed that I survived the freezing cold winter days when they stripped us completely, resulting in some of us dying from the cold. I am grateful that I still have my hands despite being kept blindfolded and handcuffed for weeks or even months. Many prisoners had their limbs amputated due to flesh erosion, and the doctor had to perform these amputations and they didn't even numb them.

The car comes to a halt, and they drag us out, and remove my blindfold. We're in the middle of a desert, the sun blazing overhead, the heat unbearable. I squint in both directions and see soldiers freeing us from our blindfolds and handcuffs while others stand nearby, guns aimed at us, watching our every move.

As soon as we're all untied, a soldier yells, "Run!" and the others start firing bullets into the air. I sprint as fast as I can, the sound of gunshots echoing terrifyingly close. I glance around and see the others running beside me, all of us driven by sheer fear until we're far from the soldiers.

We finally stop, panting and disoriented, unsure of what to do next. "I know the way, I've been here before." One of us says. He leads us through the desert until we reach a hospital in Gaza. The doctors immediately begin examining us, performing X-rays and tests. They tell us that we're all severely dehydrated and need to be hospitalised. Some of us even require surgery for broken bones, a grim testament to the brutality we endured.

They tell me I'll only need to stay a couple of days to recover from dehydration before I'm free to leave. They hand me a phone, and the first thing I do is call my mother.

"Hey, Mum, it's Kareem," I say as soon as she picks up.

I hear her gasp, followed by sobs. "Kareem! I knew it, I knew you were alive. I never doubted it for a second," she cries, her voice a mix of relief and happiness.

"Where are you?" Omar says after he pulls the phone away from her. I tell him my location and they all come straight away.

I'm lying on the bed in my room staring at the door waiting for the moment the door opens and I see them again.

Finally, the door creaks open, and Mum rushes in, wrapping me in a tight embrace. Behind her, I see Omar, Jasmine, and Mariam entering with tears streaming down their cheeks. They move toward us, but Mum still holds me close, as if I might disappear if she loosens her grip. Mariam and Jasmine have grown a lot since last time I saw them, they are ten years old now.

We hug each other tightly, then they settle into chairs around my bed. "Where's Sarah? How is she?" I ask.

"Don't worry, dear. She's on her way," Mum reassures me. "I called her on our way. I can't describe how happy she sounded when she knew that you are finally free."

"What about Youssef?" I ask, noticing her gaze drop as she looks down, avoiding my eyes. A knot of concern tightens in my chest.

"Is he okay?" I press, my voice laced with worry.

"Yes, yes," she responds quickly. "He travelled to the West Bank after his parents died in the 2021 war."

Relief washes over me knowing he's alive, but my heart aches for his loss.

"He never forgot you." she says with a gentle smile. "He always calls us and checks on all of us."

She takes her phone out and facetime him. The look on his face when he sees me is priceless. He screams in excitement and jumps up from his seat. We talk, and I offer my condolences for his loss, which he returns. He promises to visit Gaza as soon as he can to see me. Just as we're getting into the conversation, he's called back to work, so we end the call, but he assures me he'll call again tonight.

My family and I keep talking all together about everything that happened during this period. But whenever they ask about my time in prison, what life was like, what I went through, I find myself unable to talk. I really don't want to remember or mention anything of what happened to me there. I can't talk about the humiliation I have been through.

They tell me that they did everything to see me during these two years or even know if I am imprisoned or killed. They hired a lot of lawyers but they were never able to get any information.

They also tell me that now mum is the manager of my dad's shop , with Omar helping out whenever he can between his studies. They also mention how much respect the workers have for her and how they always give their best in work because of the deep love and admiration they had for my father.

While they are talking, Sarah enters the room, running straight toward me. She grabs my hand tightly, using her other hand to wipe away her tears. Just seeing her beautiful face again lifts the weight of all the pain and sadness off my heart.

"I can't believe you're here," she says, her voice trembling with emotion. "I prayed every day for this moment, the moment I'd see you again and hold your hand." She smiles through her tears, her grip tightening as if she still needs to convince herself that I'm really here.

I smile and say "You were always on my mind, your picture in my head was like a candle in my very dark room."

We all kept talking until the night. Only one of them is allowed to stay with me. Omar argued with mum as he wanted to stay with me, but mum insisted on staying with me. Youssef called again and we talked for hours, until I fell asleep.