We were aware that we needed to seek refuge in the safe room, but we weren’t too concerned because it had become a regular occurrence. We had grown accustomed to being bombed every few months. However, this time, we quickly realized that it was something different. We entered the shelter room with our four children. Soon after, we started receiving distressing messages from people begging for help. Inside my house, there were three individuals – a young woman and two men. They attempted to open the door handle, but there was no lock on the safe room door. Its purpose was to protect us from bombs, not people. My husband held onto the handle while I, along with the four kids and the dog, hid in a corner. The intruders were in my house, eating and watching TV, even a show on Netflix. They were aware that we were inside, and for 12 agonizing hours, we sat and waited for them to break in and harm us. The children remained silent, consumed by fear. They whispered, “Mom, I’m scared.” “Mom, I’m hungry.” “Mom, why are the bad guys here? Why do they want to kill us?” I turned to my husband and said, “If you can’t hold on any longer, take your weapon and quickly end our lives.” We were given seven minutes to gather our belongings. They escorted us to safety, taking us out of the apartment. I covered my children’s faces with a shirt because I didn’t want them to witness the sight of lifeless bodies or see people they knew lying in the streets. I have lived in Nir Oz my entire life, and it was my worst nightmare for terrorists to infiltrate the kibbutz. However, in my darkest dreams, I never imagined it could be this horrific, cruel, and degrading. They defaced the walls with Arabic messages, asserting their dominance over the place. My children keep asking me, “Mom, where is Safta? How can we leave the kibbutz without Safta?” And, “Where’s Jhoni, and Tamari, and Omer?” I have to keep telling them that I don’t know, even though I do. I knew my dad was dead. I knew he had passed away. We had been communicating on WhatsApp, and when he stopped responding, he had told me that his final words would be, “Give the kids a hug. We’re okay. It will be fine. It will be over soon.”
2023-10-15 04:03:38
Article from www.nytimes.com
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