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le ear twisting pared to what I ll do to you。
The tears broke free。 Sohrab shook his head。 Please； Agha； he said。 Stop。
Put it down。
Don t hurt him anymore。
Put it down。
Please。
PUT IT DOWN！
PUT IT DOWN！ Assef let go of my throat。 Lunged at Sohrab。
The slingshot made a thwiiiiit sound when Sohrab released the cup。 Then Assef was screaming。 He put his hand where his left eye had been just a moment ago。 Blood oozed between his fingers。 Blood and something else； something white and gel…like。 That s called vitreous fluid； I thought with clarity。 I ve read that somewhere。 Vitreous fluid。
Assef rolled on the carpet。 Rolled side to side； shrieking； his hand still cupped over the bloody socket。
Let s go！ Sohrab said。 He took my hand。 Helped me to my feet。 Every inch of my battered body wailed with pain。 Behind us； Assef kept shrieking。
OUT！ GET IT OUT！ he screamed。
Teetering； I opened the door。 The guards eyes widened when they saw me and I wondered what I looked like。 My stomach hurt with each breath。 One of the guards said something in Pashtu and then they blew past us； running into the room where Assef was still screaming。 OUT！
Bia； Sohrab said； pulling my hand。 Let s go！
I stumbled down the hallway； Sohrab s little hand in mine。 I took a final look over my shoulder。 The guards were huddled over Assef； doing something to his face。 Then I understood： The brass ball was still stuck in his empty eye socket。
The whole world rocking up and down； swooping side to side； I hobbled down the steps； leaning on Sohrab。 From above； Assef s screams went on and on； the cries of a wounded animal。 We made it outside； into daylight； my arm around Sohrab s shoulder； and I saw Farid running toward us。
Bismillah！ Bismillah！ he said； eyes bulging at the sight of me。
He slung my arm around his shoulder and lifted me。 Carried me to the truck； running。 I think I screamed。 I watched the way his sandals pounded the pavement； slapped his black； calloused heels。 It hurt to breathe。 Then I was looking up at the roof of the Land Cruiser； in the backseat； the upholstery beige and ripped； listen ing to the ding…ding…ding signaling an open door。 Running foot steps around the truck。 Farid and Sohrab exchanging quick words。 The truck s doors slammed shut and the engine roared to life。 The car jerked forward and I felt a tiny hand on my forehead。 I heard voices on the street； some shouting； and saw trees blurring past in the window Sohrab was sobbing。 Farid was still repeating； Bis millah！ Bismillak！
It was about then that I passed out。
TWENTY…THREE
Faces poke through the haze； linger； fade away。 They peer down； ask me questions。 They all ask questions。 Do I know who I am？ Do I hurt anywhere？ I know who I am and I hurt everywhere。 I want to tell them this but talking hurts。 I know this because some time ago； maybe a year ago； maybe two； maybe ten； I tried to talk to a child with rouge on his cheeks and eyes smeared black。 The child。 Yes； I see him now。 We are in a car of sorts； the child and I； and I don t think Soraya s driving because Soraya never drives