Ammar Habib - The Heart of Aleppo - A Story of the Syrian Civil War

I ignore all of the closed and open doors we pass. All I can focus on is the creaking floor and my own footsteps. Do they hear us like we hear them? Rounding another bend, the back door comes into view. We’re almost there! Keep moving! It’s wide open. A few early rays of dawn can be seen on the other side. The closer we get to it, the harder my heart pounds. The exit grows with every step as my vision tunnels on it.

“When we get outside, turn right and don’t stop. They won’t be able to see us from upstairs.” Salman’s voice sounds nervous. Is he scared? “Fatima, stay between us.”

We made it.

Stepping outside, I barely get a glimpse at the desolation around us before a stinging pain pounds into my skull. The world spins chaotically. Next thing I know, I roughly hit the rigid ground on all fours. For a moment, I can’t think as the throbbing pain in my head drowns out everything else. My knees get a bit scraped, and the fall leaves my hands aching.

Somebody towers above me. No, it’s two people. Their presence is all too familiar.

“Going somewhere?”

Looking up, my gaze falls on Faisal. With one of his hands balled into a tight fist, the other holds his unsheathed switchblade. Amaan stands by his side and is holding a knife too. They’re not even five feet away. Salman and Fatima are directly behind me.

“Seems like we’re in a dilemma now.” Faisal’s vile voice matches his gaze. His face is merciless, completely opposite of what it was when we found him in that dark corridor. His focus slowly drifts away from me and onto the others. “I hoped it would not come to this, but now you three have a choice.”

A silence falls between us. My mind is racing and my heart is pounding as I remain on all fours. I feel myself trembling, but it’s not from fear. Not anymore. Keeping my gaze on Faisal, one thought echoes in my mind above everything else: Salman still has the gun. But he’s too close to them. I need to distract them—get their attention on me. I need to say something. Anything. Come on, Zaid.

“If you think we’re willingly going to go along with you,” I begin.

All eyes come onto me as they hear my words.

“If you think we’ll just join the rebels like you.” I don’t know where I get the courage to speak as I slowly rise up to my knees and then onto my feet. “Then you’ve got another thing coming.”

Amaan and Faisal focus on me. It’s just the chance Salman needs.

Salman goes for his gun. He moves with blinding speed, trying to pull it out. But he hardly touches it before Faisal is upon him. Knocking me to the side, Faisal steps up and violently shoves Salman square in the chest. Salman stumbles backward before he crashes into the brick wall.

It happens so fast that I don’t get a chance to react. Grabbing Fatima by her shoulder, Faisal coarsely shoves her towards Amaan.

Amaan grabs Fatima’s wrist. She lets out a squeal as he drags her to him. His words are cruel. “We don’t care about you two. But she’s coming with us, even if it’s over your rotting corpses.”

“Let her go!” Salman roars and whips out the gun. I nearly leap onto Amaan. But we both stop short of making any move.

The tip of Amaan’s knife is pressed against Fatima’s side. Any more pressure and it’ll cut into her skin. Amaan’s fist remains clenched around the weapon’s hilt. His eyes are on both of us.

I can’t believe this. He—he’s not bluffing. One wrong move and he’ll do it. My gaze locks with Fatima’s. Fear courses through her eyes. She’s terrified—trembling. These… these people. How could they turn on us like this?

“Drop the gun, Salman.” Faisal and Amaan take a big step back as they yank Fatima with them. “Drop it or else.”

Salman’s pistol is trained on Amaan, but his eyes are glued to his sister. So are mine. My shaking hand curls into a tight fist. After everything we’ve done, after everything she did for him, he’s using her as a hostage? These animals! The blood pouring through my veins is sizzling. With each passing second, my vision begins to tunnel around Fatima. I’ve got to do something.

“I said drop it,” Faisal repeats.

Salman slowly crouches down and sets the pistol on the ground. I’m helpless. I can’t do anything. Even with all the fury running through my veins, I can’t make a move. They’ll kill her. This can’t be happening.

“Kick it over to me,” Faisal commands, his words filled with apathy.

Salman hesitates.

“ Now .”

Putting his toe against the weapon, Salman slides it across the ground.

The gun glides several feet before stopping by Faisal. His gaze doesn’t leave Salman as he reaches down and picks it up before shoving it into his belt. He’s smiling, maliciously smirking at our helplessness. What kind of a person is he?

Something happens inside, something I’ve never felt before. Humanity is washed away, and it’s replaced by something else. My blood is beyond boiling. My heart is consumed by something far beyond rage as it quivers with an uncontainable tremor. How dare they! How dare they use her like this!

Faisal’s vile gaze goes from Salman to me. “We’re leaving. Try to follow, and you know what happens.”

“I—I don’t care if you go.” Salman takes a deep breath. His voice is petrified. He’s pleading—no, begging. I’ve never heard him like this before. There are tears in his eyes, the helpless tears of a beggar. “Leave her… please, leave her. And I won’t stop you.”

They don’t reply. His words only make Faisal’s smirk grow.

“Take whatever you want.” Salman is desperate. He’s about to break into tears. “Take the food, the supplies, and the gun. Take me! Take me instead! But…” Salman is trembling now. “…please… leave my sister alone.”

Faisal doesn’t even blink, doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”

…monsters. Both of them. His simple response drives a dagger through my heart. The shaking intensifies, and all I can say is one thing. “Did you lie?”

They both look at me.

“Did you lie about what happened the night of the attack?”

Amaan looks me dead in the eyes. There is no compassion behind his gaze. There is no remorse. There is only a void. “Yes. Our parents were never killed by any soldiers.”

His voice is hollow as he utters those words. He doesn’t even flinch. The lie doesn’t bother him. I don’t even recognize this boy anymore.

“We were orphans long before the attack. This rebellion. It’s finally the chance for our lives to mean something.”

“You—you’re mad.”

“No.” He smiles. “We’re patriots. Look around you. Look at all this destruction. This city is in ruins. The rebels may have invaded the city, but every bomb dropped—every shell aimed at this city has the military’s name written on it. Is that where your loyalties are? To that dictator Assad? To that criminal? To the people who would throw every life in this city away for their own power?”

“I’m not loyal to any party.” My voice rises with every word. “I’m loyal to my friends. To my family. To my fellow citizens of this city who are just as scared as the rest of us!”

“You’re a coward.” Amaan’s words are sneering. “Both of you. You hide it behind your so-called righteousness. But people like us, we’re the ones who are going to bring about change. You two will just die like the rest of the people cowering in fear.”

They really believe that. They believe every word. I watch them both begin to leave, dragging Fatima with them as they take a few steps back. Her eyes are horrified. She’s looking back at us as they take her away. Every step echoes loudly and slowly. And with each one, my heart begins to quiver with an unrelenting rage.