His free hand gripped mine, pinning me in place, while his legs forced mine apart.
I felt the weight of his body pressing down on me.
I tried to move.
To pull my hand free.
To move my legs.
But it was useless.
No matter how hard I struggled, escape felt impossible… closer to a dream than reality.
Then…
I felt his hand inside my robe.
Colder than the air itself.
His fingers moved like snakes across my skin—crawling, searching—touching me in a way that made it feel as though he was trying to peel me apart.
And me?
I couldn't do anything.
I froze.
My heart pounded wildly, trying to escape my chest. My breathing betrayed my terror, and my trembling body revealed how completely I had been broken.
And him?
He was enjoying it.
Enjoying my fear.
Enjoying the power he held over me.
He lowered his head to my neck. His hot breath struck my cold skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
I was shaking.
The mask of strength I had worn shattered, along with the tears forming in my eyes.
Then…
…
I don't think you want to know what happened next.
…
I only wished I had died with them… rather than live through this.
I moved my legs weakly, trying to push him away. My blows never reached him, not even as he continued.
He was going too far.
His fingers left marks on my body. My neck burned, my lips trembled.
I tried to move—but my body betrayed me.
My voice was gone.
And even if I screamed… who would hear me?
Who would care?
Perhaps more like him would come.
But why?
What drew him to a broken, one-eyed child?
Was I simply the weakest link… and so he unleashed the beast inside him on me?
I closed my eyes.
Yes…
I surrendered.
I ran from reality.
I prayed for death.
A horse suddenly neighed loudly, tearing through the silence. Its hooves struck the ground violently as it pulled against its restraints, trying to reach me—as if it wanted to protect me.
But like me… it was bound.
Then—
A heavy удар.
The weight on my body vanished.
I opened my eyes, my vision blurred by tears.
I saw a figure standing tall—holding a stick—facing the beast that quickly fled.
The figure approached me.
I pulled my robe down, trying to cover myself, retreating as much as the chains and shock would allow.
Then his face appeared in the dim light.
That familiar gray hair…
It should have brought comfort.
But I was still afraid.
My body trembled.
My hand clutched my thigh—it hurt terribly. I was certain bruises had already formed where he had touched me.
The old man extended his wrinkled hand toward me.
I lowered my head and shut my eyes tightly in fear.
But instead of harm…
He touched my hair.
Gently.
A softness I hadn't felt since I was taken from Uncle Saleh.
I opened my eyes.
He was smiling.
A truly kind smile.
No hidden intent.
No hunger in his gaze.
He looked at me… like a human being.
A look I had not seen since I became an orphan.
He spoke softly:
"Do not be afraid. He won't return."
That was enough.
The last thread holding me together snapped.
I cried.
I cried for what had been done to me.
I cried because I was chained.
I cried because I had been torn from safety and turned into a slave.
I broke… because I finally understood what it meant to lose the protection that once sheltered me.
He pulled me into an embrace.
Patting my back.
Comforting me.
Treating me—finally—as human.
I covered my face with my free hand, while the chained one tightened into a broken fist.
And I whispered in despair:
"Why me?"
That question had haunted me since the moment the light left my eye…
Since I saw them dead together… leaving me alone in this cruel world.
But I never said it aloud.
It felt like I didn't have the right.
I collapsed completely.
This was too much… for a boy like me.
I buried my face in his shoulder, trying to silence my sobs—but it was useless.
He held me tighter.
His large, rough hands moved gently over my back, then my head.
Exhaustion overtook me.
I couldn't hold on any longer.
My eyelids felt heavier than the pickaxe I had carried.
Sleep… became a mercy he granted me.
My strength faded.
My body finally rested beneath the reassurance of his presence.
I heard nothing.
Felt nothing.
No nightmares.
No dreams.
Only darkness.
Birdsong slowly pulled me back into the world.
I opened my eyes with difficulty, memories of the previous night crashing into my mind.
I didn't want to go back there.
Not while he was still around.
I was… afraid.
I brushed the hay from my hair and body, then looked at my hands still bound in chains.
I waited.
For Abu Khalid to come.
To unlock them.
A minute passed.
An hour.
Time lost meaning—but I was certain it had been too long.
Had he taken pity on me?
Or forgotten me?
In both cases… I wished he wouldn't come.
Because who wishes for the one who hates them to return?
Certainly not me.
But that fragile hope didn't last.
The stable door opened.
Abu Khalid stepped inside.
Hatred filled his eyes.
Behind him…
He walked in quietly.
That same man.
His loose hair swayed with his steps. His worn clothes moved softly.
My breath quickened against my will.
Fear rooted itself deep inside me.
Abu Khalid saw it.
Saw the fear.
And smiled.
He knew.
He had broken me.
No… shattered me completely.
He stood before me, looking down with arrogance.
"Why didn't you go to the field, orphan?"
I frowned and raised my chained hands.
"How could I?"
His silver eyes narrowed. He gestured for the man behind him to step outside.
I breathed in relief when he left…
But it vanished the moment I saw Abu Khalid's smile again.
I had almost forgotten.
He too was a devil wearing a human face.
"How was last night for you?" he asked mockingly.
"I hope you slept well."
He knew.
Or rather…
He was the one who sent him.
To break me further.
I was sure of it.
And…
Maybe he succeeded.
I said nothing.
What could I say? Any lie would be obvious.
So silence became my answer.
He laughed.
"As expected."
Then the man returned.
My heart tightened at the sight of him.
It felt like death itself had entered the room.
Even though I hadn't feared death when I stood in the flames.
He handed something to Abu Khalid.
A whip.
Dark leather.
Abu Khalid held it slowly, running his fingers over it as if testing it.
Then he looked at me.
His smile widened.
He was going to whip me.
But I had done nothing wrong.
He never freed me—how could I leave?
I tried to move back, but the chain held me in place.
I didn't show fear—but my eyes betrayed me.
The large man grabbed me and dragged me to the post.
Abu Khalid spoke coldly:
"Take off his robe. Leave him in the trousers."
I frowned, but there was no time to resist.
The man forced the fabric off me. It tore under the struggle.
My burned body was exposed.
My arms.
My chest.
My skin.
All visible.
And that monster…
Was looking at me with satisfaction.
Curse him.
Curse Dirar.
Curse Abu Ayyub.
They tied me to the post.
The rope tightened around my shoulders until it felt like my joints would tear apart.
The ground beneath my feet was cold.
The whip in his hand… was not.
I didn't raise my head.
But my body was bracing.
Waiting.
Then his voice came—cold as the longest winter nights:
"Fifty lashes. And you will count them."
I lifted my eyes briefly… then lowered them again.
The whip rose—
Cut through the air—
The first strike.
I did not scream.
My jaw clenched until it hurt. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.
"One…"
The word came out broken… as if it didn't belong to me.
The second came faster.
Then the third.
The numbers blurred.
Mixed together.
But I clung to them—as if they were proof that I still existed.
Every strike said: break.
Every number I whispered replied: no.
My knees gave in.
But the ropes kept me standing.
My breathing grew heavier.
My head spun.
"Louder."
His voice cut through the haze.
Sharp… like the pain carving into my small body.
I tried.
"Ten…"
I didn't even know if it was correct.
He laughed.
The whip came again—
Harder.
I clenched my teeth harder—until I thought they might shatter.
I wouldn't give him my voice.
Not even a scream.
Even if he took everything else.
The blows continued.
The numbers broke inside my mouth before they could escape.
I couldn't endure it anymore.
It felt like my skin was trying to flee my body.
Then—
The whip stopped.
I didn't lift my head.
I couldn't.
But I heard his breathing.
Heavier. Slower.
Then his voice… softer:
"Enough."
How many had I reached?
I didn't know.
Everything was blurred.
My lips were dry—except for blood.
My body trembled from the pain.
He dropped the whip.
His footsteps faded.
Silence filled the space—heavier than the ضربات themselves.
I lifted my head weakly.
The place was empty.
The man had left during the punishment.
I remained tied to the post.
My body could no longer hold itself.
My head fell forward.
The world began to fade.
Sounds drifting away.
Light disappearing.
Then…
Nothing.
Cold.
Something cool touched my burning skin.
Moving gently across my wounds.
Dulling the fire—if only for a moment.
My breathing faltered.
My heavy eyelids resisted… then gave in.
I opened my eyes slowly.
The light was dim—almost hesitant to reveal what remained of me.
And then I saw her.
A woman.
Kneeling before me.
Wheat-colored skin. Wide eyes the color of warm amber.
In her hand—a damp cloth.
She gently wiped my wounds.
As if afraid to hurt me more.
The water was clean.
The touch… softer than anything I had known in a long time.
She didn't speak.
Didn't meet my eyes.
She just… continued.
Washing away the blood.
As if trying to erase what had happened… or at least soften it.
I watched her silently.
My eyes half-closed from exhaustion.
For the first time… in so long…
I didn't feel like everyone around me wanted to break me.
She finished.
Then lifted her gaze to me.
And smiled.
A warm… motherly smile.
She managed to free my restraints.
I couldn't stand.
She helped me sit.
She dressed me in a clean shirt.
Then, from a wrapped cloth, she took out a piece of bread.
Something simple.
Yet… it felt like treasure.
One person showing kindness was rare.
Two?
Was I… still human?
My trembling hand reached for the bread.
She smiled again and gently touched my head.
Then her voice came.
Soft. Calm. Safe.
"Eat, my son."
My son…?
Why does she call me that?
Why isn't she like her husband?
Is this… mercy?
I won't refuse her.
I ate.
Finally, something entered my stomach after… I don't even remember how long.
But it had been long enough for my body to ache as I ate.
My hand trembled.
Not from hunger…
But from fear.
That this too… might be another lie waiting to be taken from me.