We flog them.

Faizan's words haunted me as he told me about flogging. I've definitely heard of it, and have even seen gruesome pictures and graphic videos of flogging in my International Ethics class.

My gut wrenched inside after I processed how long it had been since I went to college. It seemed like I left campus a mere few days ago. But in actuality, the time was greater than that, far exceeding days and weeks.

We flog them.

Even though these things were primarily evident in many places, the media hardly showed signs of noticing. All they seemed to be concerned about was which celebrity decided to commit a fashion faux pas by strutting outside with the wildest and most obscene clothing.

On the other hand, the media cannot be fully blamed because in the end, some of them are broadcasting the things that people want to see. Nobody seemed to care about people being decapitated, flogged immensely, sexually abused, or brainwashed into joining extremist groups on the other side of the world.

Nope, those things just weren't worth anyone's time.

In some places, women are flogged if they were caught in adultery, and in more extreme cases, they'd be brutally punished if they were seen spending too much time with men who were not part of family. Men would be given lashes if they stepped out of line when it comes to the rules and regulations of an extremist or tyrannical group. Thieves, prostitutes, murderers, slaves, homosexuals and all sorts of non-conformists were all fated to face a dead end with a whip.

Meanwhile, twenty-one year old Hayat Ishfaq was doomed to be flogged all because she had wanted to escape and have a chance at life again.

We flog them.

Resting my head on my raised knees, I shuddered, either from the cold draft or from the fear of what is to happen, I do not know. My arms ached from carrying Saad the whole morning so I had to put him on the unkempt ground as much as I didn't want to. Tala was torn away, in both senses of the term, into another room, screaming and hollering as she was dragged out. Faizan gave me a warning look not to try anything, especially since he left me alone in the room, unguarded, with the giant hole still in the wall.

His murderous glare was just enough to keep me glued to the floor; the idea of escaping again did not even cross my mind. I wondered where Ahsan was and whether or not he knew that Faizan wanted to flog us. I had a slight hope that he would show up out of nowhere, like he always did, and whisk us away to safety. At least, he was the only one in here that seemed to care even a bit.

But that was just wishful thinking because nearly a few hours had passed and Ahsan was nowhere to be found. The last time I saw him was when he dropped me off in the room after we had come back from Palmyra.

How long ago was that? Five hours? Seven hours? Ten hours, maybe?

Judging from the sun's vibrant rays that shone through the hole in the wall, it was nearing noon. My stomach seared with pain, constantly reminding me through noises that it was nutrient-deprived against its will. My eyelids were filled with lead, and my head hung over my knees, finally deciding that it was best to get as much sleep as I can while I still could.

***

After what seemed like a few hours, Al-Tho'baan militants dragged Saad and I out of the dungeon and into the spacious church courtyard where everyone, including the civilians whom I had seen in the church earlier as well as the children who were captured along with me in the cave, was already standing in a giant circle. Faizan and a few fully covered militants stood in the center with Tala tied to the center-most column. One militant had a whip in his hand. Tala cried out loud and banged her head against the column. I peered over at her; judging from her back, she had already been whipped twice. But why was she screaming so loud? Did two lashes hurt that much?

Tala's head cocked over to where I was, nitpicking me from within the crowd and yelled, "Hayat! They killed her! They killed my Yara!"

Oh my God!

I spun around to see where she was looking at and my free hand flew to my mouth at the sight.

The severed and blood-spattered head of an eight-year-old girl with short pigtail braids swiveled from side to side on the stone ground, a sign that she had just been freshly decapitated. Yara was the sole motivation for Tala to even consider escaping from the clutches of Al-Tho'baan. And now, she was gone.

Before I could process anything more, militants dragged Tala away and some others kicked Yara's head and body off to the side, away from public view.

How horrid!

Two militants strode over to me and one of the men forcefully grabbed Saad from my grasp, while the other dragged me towards the center of the courtyard, further elongating the distance between me and my Saad.

"No! Stop, please! Give him back!"

Nobody paid attention to me. Nobody granted my request.

"How wonderful to see you again, Hayat," came from man I hated with a fiery passion.

Out of nowhere, Faizan grabbed my wrists in one hand and knotted them around the column with itchy, rough rope. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears as a whole crowd of people, militants and civilians alike, circled around me from a slight distance. There was no way I could swivel out of position. He wanted me to stay put and go through the entire ordeal. After Faizan tied the final knot, permanently securing me to the column for as long as he desired, a wide beam spread across his pale face.

"Ah, there we go! Are you comfy now, Hayat?" He observed me as I glared at him through my lashes. "You know, I really did not want to do this to you, but alas, you broke the rules and so you must suffer the consequences."

I swallowed the last droplets of saliva to hydrate my throat before it went completely dry.

"Don't worry, love, it'll only feel like a little pinch." Faizan had the nerve to console me sarcastically with a glint in his eye as he winked at me. He strode over behind me, facing my back while I stared at the column in front of me, wondering what he was thinking. He took a few steps closer until he was an arm's length away, running his fingers down my shivering spine, and murmured, "This, this I don't like."

What is 'this'?!

With a swift movement, he ripped off my veil, revealing my hair and my entire face, and threw it to the ground. I felt utterly naked even though I was nowhere near being nude. He grabbed the tresses that cascading down my back and pushed my hair towards the front. The ends of my shorter layers tickled the side of my face and I mentally groaned knowing that I could not even swipe my hand over my cheek to subdue the irritating itch. Faizan resumed fiddling with my clothing.

"Hayat, do you know the one thing that ruins my fun? Hm?" He paused for a moment as though he expected me to ponder the answer and report back to him. "It's clothing. They always - get in - the way," he proclaimed through clenched teeth, tearing off my abaya, seam by seam, with his bare hands.

The humid desert wind instantly brushed across the nape of my neck, and I thanked God that I had a jilbaab underneath the abaya. My prayer was cut short as Faizan's fingers went to the top of my jilbaab, unhooking it, and pulled down the zipper. The heat of his hand came in contact with my bare back until he decided to leave the dress half-zipped, the jilbaab flapped to either side from the base of my spine. Fighting the urge to cry, I smudged my body against the column in an attempt to make sure the dress would not revealed anything more than my back, and even that I could not control. Faizan circled around me with slow, menacing footsteps and announced the crowd in Arabic.

"At times, we often mistaken cowardice for bravery. That is the case with this girl right here." Faizan scanned the crowd, domineeringly making his authority known. "Take this as the prime example, this is what will happen to any of you who try to run off. Also, no one is to take their eyes off of her until I say so. Failure to do so will result in the next round of lashes for those individuals."

My heart ached from thumping too hard against my ribs.

Faizan flicked his hand upwards, motioning for someone to come forward. An Al-Tho'baan militant, whose entire face and body were shielded, stood upright beside Faizan with a bullwhip in his gloved hands. The whip had a foot-long wooden handle with a leather lash that was nearly four times the size of the handle. 

The devil incarnate turned to me after he ordered the flogger to stand behind me. "Ready Hayat? Try to be composed and act like a lady, graceful and poise. Be a big girl."

A stream of curses and prayers simultaneously raced through my mind, especially with Tala's gruesome body in mind. With the few seconds I had, I tried to console myself. People all throughout history had gone through worse. Muslims, Christians, Jews, Hindus, atheists, gypsies, nomads, children, men, women, people with disabilities, people who lied, people who told the truth, rich people, poor people...nearly someone from almost any sort of classification in life had been subjected to persecution from opposition.

What difference would one more make?

"Alright then, let's start off with, say, ten lashes, and continue until I get bored," Faizan instructed the flogger behind me.

I bit down hard on my lip, hoping that would ease the pain I would face, and shut my eyes tightly, spattering the column with free tears.

"One."

The lashing began immediately. One, two, three - in quick succession. A slight burning sensation rippled on my bare back. It didn't seem to hurt as much as I expected. But then, Faizan counted up to five. Burying my head into my forearms, I gritted my teeth and rammed my forehead against the column.

"Six."

Being stabbed with razors seemed more heavenly than this.

"Seven."

Grinding my teeth together, I was determined not to cry aloud, which would give Faizan the satisfaction of tearing me down. The rope around my wrists were so tightly knotted that I had absolutely no way to maneuver out of its stiff grip. Glaring at him with my watery vision, Faizan eyed me with an amused smirk. The crack of the whip came down so severely that I felt the skin of my back expanding - my skin was splitting!

The flesh continued to tear off from my bones, emitting a cold, burning feeling with each sharp strike.

"Eight!"

My rigid frame could no longer stay put and I jutted even further into the column with painful, heavy breaths. I summoned up all my control to not move so much.

"Nine!"

The blows were raining down on my naked flesh, from the base of my spine to my shoulder blades and then all over in different directions. With each lash, my skin softened and the fiery pain made my entire posterior felt as though it was on fire.

"Ten!"

The magic number.

It's over...

The flogger retrieved the end of the whip and remained standing behind me obediently until he was ordered to leave. A gust of air blew into my nostrils and into my dehydrated mouth. If it weren't for the rope holding me upright, I would have collapsed at the third lash. Expectantly, I peered over at Faizan, not caring that tears had slid down my cheeks, and with the hope that he would untie me and release me of my misery.

Then again, this was Faizan.

He shrugged and frowned slightly. "That was no fun."

What!

"She hardly cried."

My fists were struggling within the rope, shaking violently with the desire to strangle the oxygen out of him.

"I want her to scream."

No!

"So continue until that happens."

"You bastard!" I spat at him weakly, droplets of saliva pooling at the base of my chin.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Faizan clicked his tongue and walked over to me with the column as the only barrier between us. "Spitting is such bad manners, Hayat! And watch your language, we have children here!"

He lazily swiped his thumb across my chin, wiping off the saliva, and narrowed his eyes at me. "Be a good girl," he hissed at me before backing away, flicking his chin in the direction of the whip. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut as I braced myself for a second round of flogging.

"Bonus points if you scream my name, then we can stop and call it a day."

There was nothing more I desired to do than to rip out his lungs with my bare hands.

"Time for round two!" Faizan exclaimed happily like a child who had just discovered a toy store.

The flogger struck the whip at my back again and I fidgeted sharply, thrusting my chest into the column, not caring that the area had begun to bleed. Faizan had stopped counting and I, too, had lost track of the number of lashes.

Dread and fear were absorbed into my pores as the whip lashed down several times and I felt warm blood trickle down my spine. My body eventually decided to give up on me; I faintly heard Faizan say something about being bored and my eyes slowly betrayed me, rolling to the back of my head. Someone had cut the rope that entwined by wrists together, severing the last hindrance that kept me from toppling to the ground. But I was free, free to drop to the courtyard pavement, free to crash to the floor like a leaf in autumn. My body twirled ever so slightly and collided with the stone-hard ground beneath me, causing my head to bob up once, allowing me to catch a final glimpse of everyone's retreating footsteps as they dispersed from the courtyard.

Then, the entire world turned into an oblivious and lonesome shade of black.

***

A pair of gloomy eyes stared at me from within the darkness, intently watching every muscle that twitched and every breath that I struggled to take. I blinked a few times, trying to clarify my blurred vision. I was lying face down and by turning my head, which seemed to take a whole lot more stamina than usual, our eyes met. The nerve endings in my palms finally remembered their duty and I placed them flat on the cushion I was positioned on, in an attempt to prop myself upright.

"Stop." Ahsan's voice finally broken out from the bitter silence. "You can't move."

"Wha?" Did I lose the ability to say a complete word?

"I bandaged you up and I need you to lie flat on your stomach until I say it's safe to do otherwise."

The corner of my lip was stiff and it hurt to form words. A slight breeze came from behind, causing some layers of my hair to flap around my face lightly. The short-lived gust was a little too tangible and my eyes widened at my sudden revelation. "Am I naked? I'm naked!"

"I told you to stay put!" Ahsan rushed over and placed a gentle, but firm grip on my bare shoulder just as I was about to get up.

"But I'm naked," I whispered hoarsely. That too, in front of you!

"Half-naked," he corrected me. "I'm sorry but I had to. I tried to fix you up with as much clothing on as I could, but the bandages and stitches wouldn't adhere to your skin with ointment underneath. So, I had to wrap the gauze sheets all around your torso."

"All around?!" I gaped at him, horrified, finally feeling the durability of the bandages around my rib cage with each breath.

"All around."

"So you saw..."

"Yes, Hayat."

First my period, now this. I had broken nearly every rule in the nonexistent Book of Modesty...for Dummies. Burying my head into the pillow, I groaned and was disappointed in myself for two things: for being ridiculously embarrassed and even more ridiculously stupid to get myself in this position.

"H-how did I get here?" I mumbled, realizing that I was lying on a cot with the luxury of a pillow this entire time.

Ahsan leaned against the wall a few feet in front of me, and sighed as though he did not want to be the bearer of bad news. "I was walking along the courtyard earlier this evening and saw someone torn and bloodied on the ground, alone. That was you."

The raw taste of blood filled my mouth as my mind registered the immensely horrible pain of being flogged. It actually happened. "Is my lip cut too?"

"Yes, it is." He exhaled deeply. "I'd stitch that up too, but that would mean you'd have to lie on your back for me to do so. But, I figured stitching up your back was more vital."

"How many stitches?"

"Two rows worth." He paused for a moment and then added, "The skin really ripped open."

I bit down on the un-cut area on my lip to battle the tears that threatened to flow out. "I thought you said there was no medicine here," I told him meekly, remembering when he had scolded me for leaving my hair undried and emphasized that medicine was not available here in case I got sick.

The corner of his mouth turned upwards slightly, amused at the memory. "I meant cough medicine. We have other stuff here in case we get injured and all."

"Oh," I let out, keeping quiet for some time. My thoughts wandered back a few hours. I felt no wisp of relief or comfort as my mind drifted further into the abyss of sorrow, completely reaffirming the hell I was in. Tala's screams of agony, after learning her little sister had amounted to nothing more than a lifeless body, echoed in my head. She had nobody left, absolutely no one.

My Saad was ripped away from me, and God knows what they've done to him. I had half a mind to ask Ahsan if he knew anything about him, but I stopped myself, fearing his response. I did not want to hear of any more horrid things.

Grief. Melancholy. Despair.

Those were my companions, the ones who never left my side.

It felt as though someone had torn my heart from my chest, furiously stomped on it, and then put it back where it was. My mind and heart were mangled beyond recognition and I was not sure if I could ever be the same again. I was not sure if I could heal. I was awake, alive, but emotionally and mentally dying.

Furthermore, I did not want to live.

"W-why," I began and choked up. Salty tears were at the brim of my eyelids and I gave in to them, allowing them to finally flow freely. I found my voice and spoke in a hushed tone. "Why w-weren't you there?"

A dead silence fell once again as Ahsan looked at me, desperation and worry outlined his black orbs. He swallowed and shook his head slowly, seeming gravely upset.

"If y-you were there," I told him in the middle of crying. "This wouldn't have h-happened."

He closed his eyes briefly before revealing the pain in his expression.

"Why weren't you there?" I repeated. "You...you're always there f-for me, but not then." I paused, permitting silence to hang over our heads. "Ahsan?"

He finally spoke. "Yes?"

"It hurts," I said bluntly. Briny tears welled in the dried cracks of my lips. It stung so badly, but I ignored the ache. "Everything hurts."

Ahsan dragged himself over to me on his knees, kneeling by the cot, and said softly, "I know."

He took a swift glance at my ruptured back. I winced as a sudden burst of searing pain erupted over my shoulder blades. My eyelashes stuck together in clumps as if they'd been swimming. The tears made wet tracks down my face and dripped from my wobbling chin. Clear watery snot streaked from my flaring nostrils down to my open quivering lips.

"Hayat?"

I could not answer; it suddenly hurt to move again. He knew I was listening, and ripped off his gloves and gently cupped either side of my face with his bare hands. Newfound warmth surged through my cheeks. Through my blurry sight, I saw that his eyes were actually glossy as he searched my face with agony.

"I am so, so sorry I wasn't there for you," he faintly whispered to me with broken strength as he pressed his forehead against my own.