The Nation's Outcry
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After the sudden attack of Special Forces to their base camp, Sayyana was separated from her family when a soldier caught her before she could even plot her escape.
***
Sayyana Aguilarma witnessed how their camp was shredded as the Special Forces of their country pay them a sudden attack. While on her way to save the children, she got caught by Denver Kyson Salzano, the captain of Army's Special Forces who happened to lead the said attack. Her life as a captive hasn't been easy for her given the fact that her father is no other than the person who leads the act of terrorism in their country. As the time goes by, would she continue plotting her escape or would she finally hear the cries of those people in their nation caused by the different principle and belief of her father and his people?
#FightTerrorism
#NoToReligiousDiscrimination
#TerrorismHasNoReligion
Seluruh Hak Cipta Dilindungi Undang-Undang
#794
nation
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The drip, drip brought back the memory of those screams. She could smell the crimson from that day, or was it crimson, salt, left behind by the blood and tears of some other prisoner. Were they abused? She wondered. How were her children. She thought of them a dozen times a day, she asked the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost to keep them safe. Jamil she had long ago realized would be spared his father's beatings. That day only brought it to her conscious. She had always known. But she saw it that day. Her beautiful daughter Maryam, that was who she was more worried about. Drip, drip. Splat. Splat. The water smelled bad. Sour, of shit. It tasted even worse. She had been forced to drink it, they had starved her, and deprived her of water for a few days. Was it days? She didn't know. There was no night and day in this place. Just the collective quiet and screams for food, for water, for mercy. Confessions of sins that the prisoners had not committed, anything to get out. Most harrowing were the screams. The whips, the flays, the screams. She winced every time she heard one. She shivered the first time she had heard one. She shuddered as she thought of that. The hair on her back rose, she pulled her arms around herself. It was unearthly. Not an animal's scream, not her screams when her husband beat her, not even when he had hit her with a bat. Not the screams of the dog that those kids had cornered, and were poking with sticks, some throwing stones at it, as if it were the devil himself. No, none of those screams. This came from a deeper place. This was a scream from before civilization. From before language. This was a scream, guttural. Loud, screeching, very much in pain.
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