The rebels were seen as terrorists in Lamae, as I have detailed before. I have also mentioned that the Alhukum is not a government that suppresses its people like most dictatorships might. To protect ourselves against the rebels, the Alhukum gave us pepper spray to defend ourselves. We were never trained to use it, but each citizen's life had been saved countless times by the fiery substance.

The occasion on which my pepper spray had failed was a week after Rashida's brother, Abbas, died. (Those who were fortunate enough to speak English in Lamae always said that it was no coincidence that the little boy was named a boss.) I was walking home from my mother's workplace, the little cylinder in my hand when I was pelted with a rock from behind.

I spun around, spraying it in the direction I thought it was coming from, when someone's knee jammed into my back. Because Lamae is a population of blind people, nobody could see me being attacked. I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over my lips, plugging my nose and mouth until I lapsed gently into unconsciousness.

▣

I opened my eyes, squinting in a strange place, alone and afraid. Swallowing, I squirmed against my bonds, looking upward—blinking and unsure where I was. "The Alhukum will make you pay for what you have done to me!"

Because the citizens of Lamae never attacked one another, I assumed it was the rebels. I remembered Rashida's sobbing into my arms when she was telling me about her little brother and became even more terrified. Is that what's happening to me? Will they kill me here and put my body out on the street? I had heard of the rebels doing such things to Lamaeans to make examples of people who chose to continue living in blindness.

I was happy. I didn't want to die at their hands, not to mention becoming sighted. I couldn't be with my mother and father and Rashida if I received sight. That was, in fact, almost worse than death—to be cut off from my family, my friends, a group I had claimed allegiance to for my entire life.

But after a moment, soft fingers touched my cheek. A woman's voice spoke in Lamaean. The exact words have faded from my memory, but I will do my best to recall them as closely as I can. "She's recovering." She turned her focus to me directly. "We are resuscitating your vision, my dear."

"Are you....a rebel?" I mumbled.

A sweet laugh, more beautiful than anything I'd ever heard in my life—we do not have music where I come from, but I imagine it is similar to music. "You probably still think that way. We will give you your sight, and all your questions will be answered."

My eyes widened. "No. Please....don't do that." It was silly to bow before rebels, but I had no other choice; they had taken my pepper spray. "Just take me back to my family."

"You must trust me."

"Why would I trust someone like you, when you openly defy the Alhukum?" I snapped back. But I was taken aback by her words. Why would a rebel send me back to my family? Was this all just a joke they were playing on me? Or was the Alhukum testing my loyalty?

I decided that the only logical choice was the third one. I would not bend before her. The Alhukum were my everything—and my parents' everything—Rashida's everything. I would never betray them by kneeling before a rogue, even if she was an Alhukum member in disguise.

But I could not fight back, for I was blind, and my hands were encased in cold rings stuck to my chair. It was a damp place—a strange feeling, as Lamae is hot and dry.

And the woman was eerily silent. The moments in which she said nothing were unbearable. If someone didn't say anything, it was impossible to know whether they were even still in the same room or not. I felt her eyes staring at me despite not seeing, like two spots of hotness on my back that I could not alleviate.

"Trust me," she said. "You will wake up soon, and feel better than ever felt before."

"No!" I shrieked, writhing against my bonds. "I will not allow you to hurt me like this. Where is the Alhukum? Where are my parents?"

"Trust me." Something plastic was fit over my mouth, and I immediately began to get sleepy. What were they doing to me? Gassing me to death? Preparing to do so?

But I had no time to find out, because I could not force myself to stay awake.

▣

I woke loopy and disoriented, confused. I had been transferred to a thick bed with soft pillows and a warm comforter. I had never had this sort of peace and freedom before (the Alhukum always said mere sleeping mats were enough to get by with, and we should be grateful for any blessings we got from them).

But that was all offset by the ferocious pain in my eyes. I had never been knifed before at the time, but I had once closed one of my fingers on a door. The pain was like that, except so much sharper—like needles or a sharp edge stabbing through my eye. I didn't want to blink, but I had to so they wouldn't itch on top of that.

That was when I knew it wasn't just a test from the Alhukum. The Alhukum would never harm the people. Never. Which meant that I had been sighted indeed—and by those cursed rebels.

◈◈◈

Tell me what you think....

● How would you feel in Chaima's situation?

● What do you think the Alhukum is hiding?