The Captured

Season 02 Episode 13

Dear readers,
Have you ever come across someone who made you hate even the places and things that remind you of them and all the pain that came along?

The midsummer afternoon painted a picture-perfect scene outside my window. The sky wore hues of gold as the sun dipped closer to the earth's surface. Birds soared gracefully through the air, reveling in the freedom gifted by nature. Despite the humidity hanging in the atmosphere, there was a sense of peace that enveloped the outside world.

Peace. It's something we all strive for in life, a solace that can make even the deepest depths of despair feel somewhat comforting.

As the clock on the wall chimed four, I sighed, reflecting on the events of yesterday since Tamimi's visit. Apart from Nancy Maa and the doctors who tended to my stitches and dressing, no one else had visited my room. Even Rim hadn't stopped by, and I hadn't mustered the courage to leave the confines of my room.

While gazing out at the city life in the distance, flashbacks from the previous day flooded my mind, filling me with a sense of humiliation. I tried to push the memories away, but they lingered, haunting me. The scene of Tamimi pulling me away from the guards as tears streamed down my face played on a loop in my mind. I had never felt so exposed and vulnerable.

Why was life being so harsh to me?

It felt like I was living someone else's life, one that was vastly different from the days of happiness I once knew.

"Appi?"

The sound of Rim's voice snapped me out of my reverie, and I turned to face her as she stood outside the door.

"Y-yes," I replied, my voice catching in my throat.

She bounded into the room, stopping short just a few inches away from me. The sight of her adorable expression made me laugh, surprising even myself.

"Is it you?" she asked again, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"Um, sorry, no, it's not," I replied, still chuckling.

"Chef was making me noodles, and I wanted to ask if you wanted some too," she explained, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

I couldn't resist her infectious energy. "Bring me a bowl, but what flavor are they?"

"Chicken and Masala!" she exclaimed.

"I'll go with the latter," I replied, reminiscing about my favorite childhood flavor.

Rim dashed off, but I stopped her before she could leave.

"What?" she asked, turning back to face me.

"You can use the intercom instead." I suggested, gesturing towards the receiver.

She glanced at the phone and then back at me before darting off to make the call.

Watching her, I couldn't help but smile. Some people just had a way of brightening your day with their presence. If only everyone could have such a positive effect on each other, life would truly be worth living.

As Rim returned and teased me about my nodding head, I couldn't help but play along, hiding my amusement behind a stern facade.

"Behave, young lady."

I scolded, but the laughter bubbling inside me betrayed my attempt at seriousness.

She mimicked my accent, and I shot her a wide-eyed look.

"You can't do my accent!" I protested.

"I don't care, I'm American, proud America!" she declared with a grin, puffing out her chest.

My face hardened, but before I could respond, a knock on the door diverted her attention. She rushed to open it, leaving me feeling a twinge of annoyance. It was the first time I'd ever felt such resentment toward the word 'America,' and my cheek stung in pain. Was I feeling different about America because of mom?

"Let's eat." Rim said, placing bowls between us. My appetite had vanished. She took a forkful of noodles.

"Be careful, it's hot," I muttered, then averted my gaze.

"You, okay?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"Hmm... I'm fine," I replied, not meeting her eyes.

Silence filled the room, and I felt guilty seeing her sit quietly in the corner, eating. A voice in my head reminded me, 'No matter what, never harbor hate for children. They belong to no religion, no race. They are innocent.'