Internment(72)

I need to go home. I want home. I want to sleep in my bed and wake up from this nightmare. But there is no home here. And I’m wide awake.

I turn off the Midway toward my block and fall to my knees, grasping my stomach, and vomit in the dirt. I retch again and again, and when my stomach is empty, the dry heaves take over.

“Layla!” my mom calls, and bends down next to me. She pulls my hair off my face and holds it back. She supports me while I try to balance on my knees.

“Mom! Mom! Soheil—” I choke on my words.

Her hazel eyes stare into my dark-brown ones. There is so much kindness and love in her gaze. She takes the hem of her shirt and wipes my face. Then she pulls me to her. “Shh. It’s okay, beta. I’m here.”

“No, Mom. It’s not. Nothing will be okay ever again.” I pull my face away from her shoulder and look at her. “A protestor was killed. He ran onto the fence. It was… Soheil. The fence was still on, Mom. He—Soheil—he’s dead.”

Mom blanches. She covers her hand with her mouth as she blinks back tears. Then she cups her hands together and looks into them; I do the same. Then she says, “We belong to Allah and to Him we shall return. May Allah have mercy upon Soheil and grant him the highest place in heaven.”

“Ameen,” I say, my voice and hands trembling.

Mom helps me stand up, and we walk toward the trailer. With each step, I feel like I will shatter, a glass figurine thrown to a tile floor. I suddenly realize that my dad is not with us.

“Dad?” I ask.

“He’s okay,” my mom says. “He went to look for you by the garden.”

My mom helps me up the steps to the trailer. The door is pulled open. Dad is already inside, his face contorted with worry. I don’t say a word. I lurch toward the sink, afraid of throwing up again. My mom wets a washcloth and wipes down my face and hands. She helps me to a chair. My dad brings over a glass of water and urges me to take a tiny sip.

My dad looks at my mom, confused. I hear her whisper to him, telling him what happened, what I saw. Then he kneels next to my chair and wraps an arm around me.

He doesn’t ask me any questions. Neither does my mom. They sit with me, each holding my hand. Giving me the quiet space they know I need.

I stand up. “I need a rinse,” I say. My mom nods. She lets me lean on her as she guides me the few steps to the shower.

I step in and turn on the timer, hoping the water will turn hot. Mostly I want the water to seep into my pores so I can feel clean and free, but I’m not sure if that will ever be possible again. Maybe I’ll never leave this place.

I dress and step back into the common room. My parents are waiting for me at the little table with a cup of tea and saltines. I sink into the chair.

“Drink it,” my mother says in a voice that reminds me of when I was home sick from grade school. So soft. “Slowly.”

I smile weakly. I can tell my parents are restraining themselves from asking me what happened, where I’ve been. I see the panic and exhaustion on their faces. And also the love. I wrap my fingers around the cup of tea; it warms my hands.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice raspy as I lift the mug to my lips with shaky hands. My mom drapes her arm around my shoulder as my dad pats my knee.

Soheil’s face—his scream—won’t leave my mind. I have to find Ayesha. I don’t want to tell her. How can I tell her? But I want to be the one who—

The door bursts open.

My dad jumps up from his seat, blocking my view.

Four men from the Director’s private security detail enter. “Layla Amin, the Director requests your presence in his office.”





Drawn by my mom’s screams, people step out of their trailers as I’m escorted down the steps. My parents follow at my heels, and my dad reaches for my arm, but one of the security detail butts him in the chest with the end of his rifle. My dad falls, his head and shoulder slamming against the hard ground. He groans, bringing his hand up to cover his face.

No. No. No.

I try to pull away from the detail, but one of them twists my arm to keep me in place.

“Ali!” my mom cries out, and rushes to my dad and takes his hand in hers. He turns to his side; there’s blood on his face. “You’re monsters!” my mom screams. “Get your hands off my daughter!”

“Dad! Mom!” I scream as the Director’s men drag me away. My chest tightens. My knees begin to buckle, but one of the men yanks me back up. I strain my neck and see some people trying to help my parents.

Then I see Ayesha. She runs down the block, calling my name. I haven’t seen her since we got separated. Does she know about Soheil yet? Has no one told her? My heart thrums in my ears, and my mind moves too fast for me to think straight. All I know is that I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. Not because of me.

“Go back!” I shout, fighting tears. “It’s okay.” Ayesha’s father grabs her and pulls her back. She screams and struggles against him. Her dad holds on to her. Good.

Others yell down the block at the men dragging me away. The minders come out of their trailer and try to usher people back to their homes. But the clamoring grows louder as people start yelling at the minders as well. As we turn toward the Midway, a squad of guards rushes past me toward my block.

“What are they going to do?” I ask in a raspy whisper. Everything is a blur around me, and I keep my eyes on the ground so I don’t get dizzy.