I take a deep breath, relishing the fact that the air isn’t stained with blood. A cleansing breeze blows past us, and I catch a glimpse of the world Kenan sees. I see and love it. Truly. But it’s like loving the ocean. It’s unpredictable, the blue sparkling water turning from heavenly to horrifying in a second.
“I think—” I begin, but I don’t have the chance to finish my sentence. I feel the warning before my ears register the noise. Death has a unique tone.
“We need to—” I try again, but I can’t even finish my words.
FIRST,A BOMB FALLS TWO BLOCKS FROM WHEREwe’re standing, and the ground rumbles and breaks.
Second, the singing stops, as if someone shut off a TV, and panic ensues.
Third, memories rush past my eyes as my body refuses to believe I’m reliving last year. Even though I was expecting it, my body doesn’t care.
I shake my head quickly. I can’t shut down or I’ll die. Hesitation is my death sentence.
“We have to get out of here now!” I hear Kenan yelling, but so many shapes are rushing past my eyes, they begin to blur. A hand latches on to my arm and drags me in the opposite direction from where the bomb fell. I stumble after Kenan, praying he doesn’t let go. Bodies swarm past us, trying to push us apart in their urgency, but his grip doesn’t weaken. I try my best not to trip over my feet as urgency turns into desperation.
“Salama!” Kenan’s voice rises above the din of chaos. He can’t turn his head in my direction or we’ll both stumble.
“Keep going!” I yell before he stops.
“I have to get out of here,” one man keeps screaming, moving against the current. “I have to go,please.The bomb fell on my home!”
I keep pressing forward despite the hysteria choking me.
Another one falls, lighting up the sky. Closer this time. Screams rip the night apart, and my knees buckle.
“Salama!”Kenan’s hand tightens around my wrist, and he stops in the middle of a stampede to help me up. People curve around us now, running. Kenan grabs me by my shoulders and hoists me up. His eyes burn determination into mine.
“Salama,” Kenan says eerily calmly. “Don’t panic, and don’t let go of my hand.”
I nod. His hand slides into mine, and we make a run for it with the crowd once again. I hear guns going off and another bomb falling. It must be an all-out clash with the Free Syrian Army now. Kenan turns right, separating us from the mob, and ducks into alleyways. The shouting doesn’t stop, and it’s not only coming from the protest. Buildings have crumbled onto sleeping children, and mothers are crying desperately for someone to pull their babies out. Guilt tears my gut for not turning back and helping, but I know I’d be as good as dead if I did.
I know where we are. Layla is still a bit far from here, but there’s another place we can seek refuge.
“Wait!” I shout, and Kenan pauses for a second. I dash in front of him, taking his other hand, and run. “I know where to go.”
“Where?” he shouts over the din.
“My old home.”
“We need to run faster. The FSA might have lost their ground here.”
“Snipers.” A pit drops in my stomach.
“Or the military.”
I glance back. “You need to get rid of your phone.”
God forbid if we’re caught and they find the videos on his phone. They’d skin him.
His hand flexes in mine. Our footsteps echo against the broken pavement. “Can’t do that.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry. If we’re caught, I won’t let them hurt you.”
I bite down a retort. He’s just saying that to make himself feel better. There are no innocents in the eyes of evil. Luckily we encounter no one on the streets, but I can feel the bombs closing in. I pull him faster and my lungs protest. Every intake of breath feels like fire. I bite my lip to ground myself and push on harder.
People have started spilling out of buildings, their eyes wide with fear. The roads are beyond saving, but there’s nowhere for the people to go. I hear children crying and people praying for mercy. A man carries an infant in his arms as his wife rushes out with him. They part for us, and I don’t look back to see what they’re doing. I pray they have the sense to flee.
