Between the Grapevines

22. Itnan Wa'Ishrun

Fayza stirred at the sound of a man's shout, bouncing off the hard walls and echoing throughout the normally silent wing. She opened her eyes from her sleep, seeing the untouched half-serving of rice they'd given her the day before still in its place. The ringing had dulled to a bearable degree but had not subsided one day since it began. Her body ached still and, on the icy ground, Fayza found herself longing for a hot summer.

She heard another yell, angry. Then a thud of someone clamoring against a wall or a ground. The sound of their panicked language drew her interest as she lifted herself onto her arms, slowly trying to bring herself to her knees. Her muscles complained but her brain urged her on.

When Fayza came to the bars of her cell, she saw nobody in the hall but found the door to a cell a two doors down left open. She pressed her temple tiredly against the metal, listening intently to the shouting and struggling until her gaze caught one soldier stepping out. He waited by the door until another jumped through, then slammed it shut.

Not a moment after they locked it, she heard the tired voice of a man drawl from within. "Are you afraid, you son of a sharmoota?" He asked. She watched the two soldiers murmur to one another, aware just as she was of the exhaustion of the man's voice. He sounded parched, his words fading in and out like his gone voice could not muster the strength to fill them.

His presence filled her with intrigue even through the dazed state she'd been for the past week. Perhaps his arrival would be an end to the long days she'd spent unable to move off the ground, lacking the strength to speak, and only praying with her whispers. After all, in all her years here, they had not brought anyone else down with her.

The soldiers left and sealed the door after them, leaving only the sound of the breathing man to fill the space. Fayza remained silent for a bit, wondering if he would utter something or release his own frustration. She did not want to impose on the little privacy he had.

But when the man said nothing after long passing moments, she finally spoke up. "What have you done?" She asked curiously, hearing her voice clearly for the first time in days. It sounded tired.

"In the name of God!" The man gasped in surprise. "Who's there?"

"Don't be scared," she wanted to chuckle but she was tired. "I am not a demon nor a jinn. I'm a prisoner down here like you."

He was silent for a moment. "A prisoner?"

She hummed in response.

"When did they bring you down here, ya binty?" The man breathed the question, beginning to shuffle toward the prison bars. When he spoke more clearly, his age was heard in his words.

Fayza shook her head, finding humor in the question. It made her chuckle quietly but nothing was quiet in this space. Everything echoed. Everything was amplified in the desolation of the prison basements. "I've always been here, ami. They do not let me with the others."

"What...?" He asked, confused. "No, that is not correct."

"I have," she replied absentmindedly, equally as lost by the man's evident blankness. Fayza buried her finger into a small crack in the iron bars, beginning to pick at it. Maybe she could break through if she spent enough years picking at the metal.

The man clicked his tongue in refusal. "No, my daughter. I was placed in this cell six months in the last year. I would have heard you."

Fayza lifted her head. "What do you mean?"

"You were not here. I can swear to you. I was alone my entire time."

But if Fayza had not been here last year, then that means she was not in the prison at all. That meant that the guards who had awakened her and reminded her of her previous beating had been lying. She had not been here. She had escaped. And that meant Tamim, Iman, and Riyad had all not been a figment of her tired and desperate imagination.