I shut my eyes, not wanting to view the misery I was being subjected to, but as I mustered the courage, I glared on with a lump in my throat. Her eyelids and mouth were open, her tongue bulged out, blood trickled and then ran profusely down her sleek body and her skull was in two pieces.
Without a minutes hesitation, I placed her between my shoulders and ran as fast as my weary legs could carry me. Running in rubble, over dead bodies and playing dodge ball with missiles, made my journey all the more challenging.
My clothes sodden and out of breath, I clamoured with my hands raised to the heavens, “oh Allah, you can see me cant you? you love me don’t you? So ease my sufferings”
My pace thereafter had changed from a brisk walk to a saunter. Coming across a grass pitch, barely 2×2 meters in size, I lay there, as difficulties cascaded upon me.
As my adrenaline wore off, I swayed in and out of consciousness. With the wind the only hand to caress my aching heart and the rain, the only source of nutrition for me, all my robustness had vanished.
3 days later, as I write this, with blood as my ink and dried leaves as my paper, I plead to whomsoever this might reach to make duaa for me and my fellow Muslims suffering.
– YOUR SISTER IN ISLAM