Internment(73)

One of them looks at me but doesn’t say a word.

“Where are you taking me?” I continue.

They ignore my questions. I’m invisible.

My body goes limp. One of the Director’s henchmen holds me up, half dragging me forward. As we get farther from my block, the din dies down. People watch as the security team pulls me down the Midway. There are some murmurs, but the sound grows quieter the closer I get to the admin building, until all I hear are the scratchy sounds of my shoes scraping lines in the dirt as I’m led forward. The breathing of the security detail is loud in my ears, harsh and open-mouthed. No. That’s not their breathing; it’s mine. I shake my head, trying to focus, but my mind wanders back to Noor, Asmaa, Bilqis. When the guards hauled them down the Midway, they never came back.

We all know there’s a holding cell at Mobius, but I have no idea where it is. The security detail walks me into the admin building through a dimly lit hallway, passing the Director’s empty office, and through a door I’ve never seen. Behind the door is a small windowless foyer, and down the hall are four doors with small rectangular windows about five feet up from the ground. The security detail deliver me to an Exclusion Guard in front of the first door and then turn on their heels and stomp away.

I’m standing in the hall, wiping my forehead with a shaky hand, my knees so wobbly I’m amazed I’m still upright. The guard waits. I notice his angular jaw juts out as he clenches his teeth. It’s the only part of his body that moves. His freakish stillness has a kind of mesmerizing quality to it.

The outside door to the building slams. No more echoing footsteps. It seems the security detail has departed.

The guard puts a bottle of water in my hands.

He opens the door to the cell. I walk in. The door closes with a loud thud. There’s a single cot to the side. It has a striped mattress with a thin, nearly see-through cotton sheet thrown over it; an Army-green cotton blanket is folded under the single pillow at the head. A small metal sink and toilet stand in the corner. A prison in a prison.

I sit on the bed and grip the water bottle in my hands like it’s a life preserver and I’m drowning. But it’s only a piece of plastic that can’t hold me afloat. I look out the little window in the door and see the back of the guard’s head. I walk back to the bed and lie down with my face to the wall and pull my knees up into my chest.

Breathe. I scan the bare walls, not quite knowing where to let my eyes rest. My head pounds, and every muscle in my body feels stretched too far. I walk over to the small sink and run my hands under the water to wash away the ever-present dirt on my fingers, tiny muddy rivulets carrying this place down the drain. I keep the water on until it runs clear. I take some tissue to blow my nose and wipe my face. I shiver. It’s hot outside, but in here, I’m freezing.

I walk back to the cot, zombie-like, and fall down onto the pillow.

The logic of sleep pulls at me, but all my edges are too sharp. I feel like my skin is coated with crushed glass, ready to shred me to smithereens if I dare close my eyes and drop my guard. My guard. The guard. The Director’s men. Did they go back to my trailer? Does the Director have my parents? Stay strong. Stay strong? Breathe? How? I barely have the strength to sit up. And, God, how I wish I could stop having to remind myself to breathe. I wish I could imagine anything besides the blood on my dad’s face. I wish my mom could have one minute of ease and peace, and now I’ve taken it all away. There is no wishing anymore, though. No imagining and no pretending. The stars have all gone out. Only darkness remains.


The door to my cell clangs open. I have no idea what time it is or if I slept or how long I slept or even if it is day or night. Jake steps through the doorway and rushes to my bedside. “Layla. Are you okay?” His voice is low, with tension in it. A taut wire.

I nod and sit up, trying to rub the weariness from my eyes. My entire body aches. “Jake,” I whisper. “What’s happening? Are my parents okay?”

He looks into my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Layla. We only have a minute. The Director wants you in his office.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, and covers my hand with his. “Listen, I’m so sorry to have to ask, but I need you to go along with this. I can’t get you out right now. It’s chaos out there. And no one is sure what’s going to happen. Be brave. Can you do that?”

My mouth opens. Jake’s words are still in my ears, but they don’t make any sense. Stay here? Go along? Be brave? I don’t know what to say. I nod once. Do I really have any other choice?

“I’m sorry. I have to go,” he says, pulling his hand away from mine. He stands up.

Footsteps outside. “I’ll take her,” a voice says. Jake steps aside so I can see the door. It’s Fred.

Jake nods and hurries out. He never told me if my parents are okay.

I stand up from the hard bed. Fred walks over and hands me a banana. “The Director says he wants to see you at six a.m. sharp. I’ll give you a couple of minutes to wash up, okay? Layla, I know you’re scared. But you’re not alone.” He smiles at me in a halfhearted way. Everything feels hollow right now. Words. Gestures. Thoughts.

He steps out, and the door slams behind him.

I devour the banana. Apparently, my body is hungry even if I’m not paying attention to it. I wash up and coax myself to pee, silently thanking Fred for standing with his back to the small observation window that looks into my cell.