The air spun around her in a blur only she could feel, it vibrated around her as fists were thrown into the air in a smooth rhythm with the chants coming from everywhere, intermingling in unison, a magnitude of voices fused into one. It felt like a dream she was watching from above without participating in it despite being quite the opposite; she was yelling out with them, demanding justice for her friend, for everyone, for all races, yet she felt withdrawn from the reality of it.

Her emotions were threatening to topple over any minute now, Asli's murder was being played over and over in her head, the aim, the shot, the fall, the blood – God, there was so much blood, so much of it as if her soul drained out into the cracks of the pavement. She wondered if it could feel her blood run cold, if pavements could talk.

Her own screams still lingered in her ears; she could still feel the grip the officers had on her arms as they dragged her away from the scene and put her friend’s body in a sad bag, pulling the zip on the brave girl she met at a coffee shop on a regular evening. The girl who started the revolution was in a bag and there was nothing she could do about it.

It choked her, this helplessness, this suppressing power of the state and the extra mile they went just to silence them. Could a bunch of words frighten them that much? Could they be that scared of the truth, so triggered by it that they're willing to commit the most horrid of crimes to ensure it stays buried deep under their feet?

Encompassing the perimeter of the square, stood the Central Security Forces' black-clad soldiers shoulder to shoulder, creating a barrier around the protestors, pushing them unto each other with their glass shields as they looked them in the eye with the most impassive of glares.

The voices grew louder in her ears, her view clearer as she zoned back in, she could feel the adrenaline rush in her blood, the rippling energy in her veins, it was hard to tell if she was angry, excited, or scared, but she was feeling something, She let her eyes scan the crowd, sweep her surroundings in curious observation, and there in the distance, she saw it, tiny and indecipherable at first, but as it approached them, her suspicion was confirmed and her heart skipped a beat.

A cloud of tension held the protestors in its grasp once the military tank stopped behind the soldiers straight across.

She gestured for Jack to put her down, to which he responded at once, kneeling down as she jumped off his shoulders.

Back on her feet, she turned to him and voiced out her thoughts, "They're planning to scatter us somehow." she said, her anxiety building up.

"Yes," he confirmed, "and it's not only one, look," he pointed to the left of them, where another stood.

"There's more..." she noted as she turned around on her heels only to find out about ten more surrounded the perimeter; they were trapped.

The built up tension was too heavy to handle, Veronica begged for something to break it, one more chant, a word, an exclamation, anything. A moment passed, not more than a minute yet it felt like hours as they all stood in anticipation of what awaited them, birds flying over their silence, perhaps mocking it.

On the tank she first spotted, the soldier swung his arm backwards and threw it in the air with all his might, and only after it landed on her feet did she see the silver canister. Whether she'd been able to tell what it was or not didn't matter, she had no time to think anyway, the fumes had already engulfed them under a cloud of smoke, except this felt nothing like smoke.

She heard the cries in the distance and up close, felt the sting in her eyes, her tears flowing like a river, Jack's grip on her hand as he pulled her away and ran into the countless fleeing bodies of protestors she couldn't even see. Whatever came out of that grenade was too dense, too thick, it transformed the square into a jar filled with poison with no way to get out and everyone running into each other in panic.

She gasped, her throat burning like fire, and only then did she realise she'd been screaming all along.

Chaos, all around her, spreading like a virus, blurring her view as she forced her eyes open, the shrieks had gotten louder, she felt the crowd thin out, scatter.

They must've opened the barrier to let us out, she thought as she struggled to breathe, or even see.

"Hold on to me, Ver, I'll get you out of here." Jack shouted over the screams.

She wanted to say something, perhaps just a word, incoherent or clear, whatever it took to make sure her voice was still there, but her head was getting heavier by the minute, and it was hard enough to stay on her feet, let alone speak, so she kept her silence as Jack dragged her farther away from the pain behind them.

And as the pain in their own chests persisted, Veronica wished she’d never begged for the tension to break, she wished she’d never seen a military tank up close, that they’d go back to when their voices were loud and the air they breathe didn’t sear their throats.

A wish, after all, is only what it is, a wish; neverthemore, and nevertheless.
_____________________________________________

Apartheid's Headquarters And Military Prison, 5 AM, two hours after the escape.

“Escaped! The most threatening prisoners have escaped the highest protected facility in Pallid and you’re telling me it’s because of a bloody traitor?” Mike yelled at the morning shift guards, his blood boiling, and his anger over spilling out of him. He couldn’t believe Kris and the rest of the rebels made it out already, and Richard? He thought the bastard hated his sister’s guts, he was his most trusted soldier, yet again he was the fool in the play; the outcast everybody underestimated.

The guard, still unable to look up from his feet, was trying to make the situation better for himself, “But it was Richard, Sir, we could’ve never expected your best man to aid the felons.”

The response hit a tender spot and he crossed the few steps between them and forced him to look him in the eye, “Richard was a single man.” he said, his teeth clenched, “And you don’t assign one man with the job of keeping an entire facility secure, not even for the 20 minutes between shifts, do you hear me?”

The guard stood quiet in palpable fear, his fellow soldiers were dead silent behind him, too scared to breathe.

“I said, do you hear me?” Mike repeated in a far more vicious tone.

“Yes, Sir.”

He turned around and started to walk away, but with his back to them, he called out his order, “Take Tyler to the infirmary, see what they can do with his arm, and into the woods you go, sweep every inch of it, I want these lunatic rats brought here, dead or alive, I don’t care how long it takes you, if you come back without them, you’ll be in your graves before you get to say your last prayers, all of you.”

“Yes, Sir" came the reply from the twelve soldiers in one voice, and despite the terror in their blood at that moment, they hadn’t trembled, not even for a second.

It took such willpower to stay firm in the face of the man whose father is ruling the state, trembling was never an option, not while working for men who feared fear and yet fed on it, knowing it's still there under that mask of faux indifference.
_____________________________________________

In circumstances as unfortunate as this, where sadness clings to every air molecule around them, like a scared toddler refusing to let go of his mother’s hand, Sarah found it hard to breathe, or to make the slightest movement, to blink, but somehow, she managed to run about one third of the distance they needed to cover to see the light on the other side of the woods. Perhaps it had been the adrenaline rush, or the fact that she wasn’t alone, that the very few people she’d come to trust in the past couple of months were by her side.

Or perhaps it had been Vienna after all. She knew more than anyone else how it felt losing a loved one, let alone a family member, and deep in her subconscious, she'd done it for her, to let her know she could push the grief back until it was safe to acknowledge it, and here they were, sweating and out of breath but only a few feet from the neat asphalt of Pallid's roads, she could see it in the distance.

Sarah turned to check up on her; she was walking silently behind Cory not too far away from her right, her head was low, her gaze empty, and her feet were dragging her forward, they must’ve felt like steel, she was drained of all the energy there is.

She crossed the distance between them until she was right next to her, and after fiddling too hard trying to find something appropriate or even remotely comforting to say, attempts of which had all been fated to failure, she reached out and held her hand instead.

Vienna looked down between them then back at her heavy feet, and gripped Sarah’s hand, too hard Sarah felt the invisible pain in her friend’s chest all around her like a dark aura.

And before she knew it she’d stopped and pulled her friend into a tight hug. The girl embraced her back  and sobbed in a way she never thought possible. She patted her back and kept her close. The rest of the rebels had stopped, uncertain how to react in such situations, they just stood there, their eyes holding undeniable love and remorse for their friend. Cory met Sarah's gaze and nodded sadly, a gesture she could only translate as an urgent call to proceed before they’re caught up with by State's puppets.

She gave her one more pat and let go, but kept her hand in her grip, and in a smooth way, the group was now walking too close to each other like one flock of birds, a family that's there for one another despite the silence.

Kris was on her left dissing everything on her mind and focusing on revenge, Charles and Cory right behind them watching their backs shoulder to shoulder like they'd always been, and that was how the five broken youths made it through the forests that one morning where the sun was out but their dawn was still lost in the darkness of tyranny.

Once out of that dense forest, they were met with such an unsettling scene; people dragging themselves towards them or into the surrounding streets, choking, their eyes red and their cheeks wet with tears, and over there at the far edge of her sight, Sarah could spot shards of intensifying pale smoke rising into the air, from which, she’d soon realised, those people seemed to be coming from.

“The main square...” Kris pointed out, answering the question before they could ask it, “It’s coming out of the main square.”

“But,” Charles started, “isn’t that where the protests are?”

“Exactly, whatever is going on there can’t be good.”

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, “Those protestors, their eyes are red...” she said, her voice trembling at the last word.

“Tear gas.” Came Cory's instant elaboration in his confident tone.

“What?” Sarah was confused, “What is that?”

“A gas that blinds you out for sometime, feels like inhaling fire, they use it in riot control.”

“The bastards,” Kris cussed out, “the bloody cowards and their cheap ways to silence the truth.”

“You guys think we should go over there, help them out or something? Like, what’s the plan here?” Charles asked, his eyes not leaving the poisoned smoke spreading in the air far off.

Cory shook his head, “No way, man,” he said, “we can’t risk it, we just got out of prison and there’s probably more cops than we’d ever seen, all right? I ain’t risking my breath just to be thrown back in a cell.”

That was when Sarah saw a familiar face, the girl was in a horrible state she couldn’t even tell whether she was unconscious or not, and some guy was holding her straight trying to keep her on her feet. They were headed somewhere on her left, and as she watched them walk farther away, she got that persistent feeling that she’d seen her somewhere, unsure of exactly when and how or what had it been in the first place.

Cory noticed it, too and followed her line of sight, but since his memory was better than hers, he quickly made the connection.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, “isn’t that the girl from the footage? The one who'd been on the roof with Asli.”

رَحِمَها الله*
She automatically added in her head before she could even grasp the reality of what he said.
And then it hit her like a violent gust of wind; it was her, the girl with the green hair, the one who screamed when Asli tumbled down to her death.

She didn’t know the girl's name but she knew how to call for her, and with all that she’s got, she let it out.

“Asli!”

The girl and her friend stopped at once.
You’d think the world is too vast, but it isn’t, coincidence knows no boundaries.

_________________________________________

*It means "May God have mercy on her"; a prayer us Muslims say after mentioning a dead person, similar to "May his/her soul rest in peace" which is common in other cultures.

The photo used in the header is a property of the photographer Omar Eltahan whose account on Instagram is

https://www.instagram.com/omareltahan_70/