Lamae | #JustWriteIt WINNER ✔

4 | Torn

One day, a worker dressed in white took my hand as I walked out onto the gated area of the underground compound. "Doctor Essa wishes to see you," he said.

Before, I would have refused, but I was less angry at the rebels than before. Why? Because they had given me my sight. I was certainly becoming dependent on it, but that would soon be of no matter anyway. If I returned to Lamae, the Alhukum would have me executed for ungratefulness toward them. And I would deserve it.

I nodded slowly and followed the worker to the office. Dr. Essa had not requested to see me since the incident just after the surgery—if so, this must be an important visit. I wondered, a little worried, what she might have to say to me. Would she be angry at me for my outburst?

I entered the room, seeing Essa for the first time. She was a short, stocky woman with skin the same tone as mine. Her eyes and hair were dark and warm. Unlike before, I felt purely at ease with her. She could be a kindly mother or a stern doctor, but in any case, she was not out to get me.

I realized this was something I only knew because I was sighted. Was the Alhukum wrong? Had being blind not been an asset, but a limitation to seeing the world?

Essa snapped me out of my thoughts. "Have a seat, Chaima."

Vaguely, I recalled that I had never told her my name, but it was no matter. She must have been keeping an eye on me long before kidnapping me and performing the surgery. Meaning she had had her eye on Abbas since before then as well, if she had murdered him.

Murdered him. That snapped me out of the kindness in her eyes. This woman was responsible for the death of my friend's brother. I kept a clear head, sitting down with good posture, just like my parents had taught me to when addressing elders. "Why have you only now brought me here?"

Essa lowered her eyes—which were darker than her already grayish tone (I must remind you that I could not see color at this point, but now that I look back on it, she would be an olive-skinned Arab). "Because you now see. And we have many things to tell you."

"You've pampered me enough," I said coolly.

"We did it to show you that we are safe to trust," Essa said. "It is very hard, since the Alhukum has conditioned you to see us as pure evil."

Because you are, I almost snapped, but stopped myself. "Tell me what I've been missing," I replied in a cold voice.

Essa took out a small plastic card that had a face on it, but I could not see what the name said or who it belonged to. "You were taught that Abbas Najjar was murdered by us, weren't you?"

My eyes snapped to hers, and I nodded, a small hiccup coming to the base of my throat. The boy's voice had always been so cheerful to me. He had only been eight years old—eight years younger than my best friend.

His sweet baby voice was a dull pain in the center of my chest. "Yes," I choked out.

A sigh from Essa. "And you were never taught about the doctrine of innocent till proven guilty, either. That is something the Alhukum doesn't prize, and look what it costs us. It's even able to wipe the blood that is on their hands onto those of another person." A soft chuckle, like the singing of birds. "And the people don't know any better."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that the Alhukum killed Abbas Najjar....and blamed his death on us."

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My first instinct was to tell her that she was lying. That there was no way that the Alhukum would do such a thing. They were committed to truth and mercy. Why would they do such a thing to such a sweet, innocent boy—and a blind one who couldn't even see that he was headed to his death?

But the Alhukum had lied to me as well. They had told me that to be sighted was most dishonorable, and that it would create in me a sort of weakness. They were wrong. I felt stronger and more at peace than ever before. And for all their mercy, Essa and the rebels had been just as merciful.

I wasn't sure what to believe. But my lungs were closing up, and my newly sighted eyes were filling with tears that stung. They had never stung before, not when I had mourned the loss of Abbas before.

I set my gaze upon Essa, who was cool but soft. "Prove it to me," I whispered. My biases were warring with one another like two enormous animals in a cage, fighting for dominance over each other. All I wished for was the truth. Who was to blame—the Alhukum or those who hated it?

Essa leaned forward. "There is a great risk involved. I was not a fool when I decided to give you sight. You are strong, Chaima Almasi. But do you think you can handle this?"

I swallowed dryly. "What are the risks?"

"You risk death by the Alhukum if they should ever find out about your sight," she said, still fingering the plastic card. "You couldn't live near your family or even associate with them ever again—nor Abbas Najjar's sister. You would need to pretend to be blind when you can see."

Could the Alhukum have killed Abbas for getting sighted?

No; that could not be. Rashida's brother had been more obvious than an emergency siren. He would have told everyone that he could see, and that had never happened up to the point of his death. "I won't be able to see them again?"

Essa shook her head. "Not unless we sight them too, and even then, you would all have to live here. Once you are sighted, you cannot stay in Lamae, or you will be killed."

My mouth was dry as I repeated her words. "I will be all alone, in Lamae, forever."

"Not forever. I will only allow you out there for two days. That way, you can see what the Alhukum does while its citizens are blind." Her voice was slightly bitter as she stood. "But now that you can see....you will never be the same."

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Tell me what you think....

● Is Essa right about the cause of Abbas' death?