While each of this series can be read individually as there's no specific order of events. I do implore everyone reading to read The Prologue ahead of reading any specific part.
“... I only got suspended from school once. It wasn’t a complicated story, if I’m being completely honest. It’s just a corner, I think.
There was a period after the invasion when no one really knew how things would work. My father was in the Emirates and could barely contact us, let alone send money. So, I took this job renting out small motorcycles.”
Small motorcycles?
“You know, like those small ones — almost for children.”
Scooters?
“No, not scooters. Like the motorbikes they race on a mountain with. Smaller than regular ones. It was either them—”
Mountain bikes?
“Yes, mountain bikes. Thank you.”
Those aren’t really for children.
“Yeah, I found that out later.”
So, what about the corner?
“As militias grew, each area had a corner like it. Sunnis started moving out of certain areas, Shias started moving out of certain areas. Certain barber shops started hanging signs saying they wouldn’t use threads anymore.”
Threads?
“Yeah, like after you shave your face, you use them—”
Epilation?
“Maybe. I just remember how even the smallest things became a declaration.”
So, what about the corner?
“That corner always scared me. It was between my house and the work. I always took the long way. Safer.
But after nine, it got dark, so I had to come back through that corner.”
You worked until nine?
“Until six, usually. But that day, the boss kept me longer. There was shouting, some hitting. Nothing my older brother hadn’t trained me to handle.”
Why was he angry?
“Because I wouldn’t rent to certain people. I didn’t know the bikes weren’t for children, but I knew some people shouldn’t be trusted with them. Too young, too shaky. I turned them away.
It would’ve been fine if I hadn’t said no to Alaa — the one everyone called Alaa the Disabled.”
Alaa the Disabled?
“He was maybe thirteen or fourteen. Small for his age. Narrow shoulders, head a bit big for his body.
His face looked soft, like it hadn’t learned to hold tension. His eyes — round, pale, wide apart — didn’t dart around like other people’s; they stayed fixed on whatever he was trying to understand. When he smiled, it took his whole face with it.
He spoke slow, careful, like each word cost him something. But when he laughed, it was big, loud, contagious. He looked so happy it made you forget where you were.
Back then, I didn’t know the word for it. I just knew he was different.
He was in my class. I got bullied a lot — fists, names, the usual. I could fight back if I wanted, but I rarely did. For him, though, I always did. Even Samir, who was five years older than everyone because he kept failing — even he wouldn’t touch Alaa if I was around.
I liked thinking of myself as someone who stood up for others, even if it meant not standing for myself.”
(pause)
“Anyway. That night, I was walking home, hurting, trying to hide the blood and tears so my sisters wouldn’t see.
When I reached the corner, they were there — six men standing over a woman. She wasn’t even young, maybe forty-five. They were stripping her, taking turns. She screamed. And I just stood there, hiding, watching.
I always thought of myself as someone who’d step in. Just… not that day.”
What did you do?
“Nothing. I froze. Watched them leave like it was nothing — like she was nothing. Later, I learned a trick to sleep when the screaming comes back. I imagine I ran to her, that I took her home safe. They all walked away calmly afterward, like she was just a pause between two conversations.”
What happened after that?
"I walked by her, like an hour or so later, after I started unfreezing. By then it was too late. But, I wasn't the only one. The whole street flooded after seeing me walk by her. Concerned citizens got the police, and she was soon removed.
That night, I couldn't sleep and went to school sleep-deprived. Alaa was angry with me for not letting him ride the bike so I was just sitting alone. I don't remember much between that moment and the moment Alaa came to the shop to rent a bike. He had paid and brought Samir with him to force me to rent the bike to him as he wasn't aware of the new policy. I was just silent that entire day and the one after"
What happened to Alaa
"I had little to no resistance to him riding the bike, so he did. It wasn't like 30 meters after he did that, the truck hit him. Not that I laugh about it, but I often thought it was kinda funny that Alaa was alright after the truck hit him, or he seemed so at least, it was afterwards, when the driver thought he killed him and was fleeing, that the tyres stepped on his head. Everything popped out.
The next day, his family showed up with his coffin, carrying it around the school as a goodbye of sorts. I didn't have any sleep for those two days, I just remember seeing Samir standing there, and I just ran toward him and just waled at him with punches, kicks, and just screams like I was trying to push all my internal organs out through my mouth.
That's how I got my only suspension from school. Well, sense the latest one which brought me here in the first place.
Session Note — Dr. Léa Lefèvre
Patient was more organized today, though the narrative remains inconsistent. He tends to present himself as both a protector and a bystander, moving between guilt and self-justification. His account of intervening to protect “Alaa” in earlier school incidents contrasts with his complete passivity during the later events; it’s unclear whether either version is accurate. When describing the accident, he alternated between remorse and a detached amusement that seemed more defensive than cruel. No clear affective breakdown. I sense that much of his story serves to test my reaction rather than record truth. Recommend maintaining focus on present-tense functioning before further trauma reconstruction.