Raha - Comfort

C/W: War, violence, trauma

I never understood why I do the things I do.

A small child sat, sleeping on my shoulder. I had held him in the same spot for almost three days. The ringing in my ears should have been gone by now. My head throbbed and felt as if ten men were standing on it. My bones ached and burned. Everything in me was inflamed. The small light shone through and lit the cave just enough for hope to survive. Hope was a hard thing to kill, but harder, to thrive. I had hoped that I would see the shadow of a soldier, but the only shadows around were quickly sweeping over me and Elija. I felt my tongue drying up in my throat. It stuck to the roof of my mouth, reducing me to breathing with only my nose. I thought back, searching for sanity in the deepest parts of my mind. My eyes stayed half opened in apathy, though, bleeding and dehydration shouldn't trigger that. The cave was surprisingly warm, enough so that I could hardly feel the blood on my side and arms. The blood on my body seeped into and stained the clothes of the boy I was holding. Not my blood, I thought.

Five days ago, I carried Elija on my back as we traveled with a small caravan. We walked and talked with other civilians, survivors, refugees, soldiers (American ones too), and strangers helping us. I remember thinking that the soldiers sent to us were superheroes. They always were ready to help us. One of the soldiers, his name was Caleb, spoke my language. He taught me some English while we made our way to a town at the bottom end of a small river. He was funny and nice.

"Caleb?" 

"Yes?" He answered with a smile. He had eyes that were blue. I had never seen that before. Many of the Americans that came had blue eyes. But his were the brightest, I was sure.

"When will we win this war?" I asked.

"Raha," He said my name. "We have already won this war, all we are doing now is winning the battles." Hearing his voice over the sound of footsteps and scattered cries was like heaven for me. He could talk for hours and I wouldn't complain. But his saying confused me. I guess he noticed because he began to explain to me in my language. I didn't truly understand but he was patient with me and taught me so much.

Elija would occasionally ask a question and then rest his head again on my shoulder. I think Caleb liked him and I think Elija liked Caleb but wouldn't admit it. Every hour or so, Caleb would offer to hold him but Elija would just hop off and play with the other kids in the caravan. That gave Caleb and I some time to be whimsical with each other.

When night came upon us, everyone set up tents and we started a nice fire to stay warm. But Caleb stayed by me all the time to make sure Elija and I were okay. We sat by the fire together and didn't talk. We just kept each other warmer. I liked Caleb. 

A day and a half later, we arrived at the village. Everyone rejoiced when they saw it from a distance. I briefly hugged Caleb and called for Elija. I could see him cheering with the other kids and their swords made from dry wood. Elija became more comfortable with Caleb by now. 

The young American soldier and I had deep talks.

I was excited to start a family with him. We agreed that we would take and raise Elija as our own. All I wished is that it would have happened. My beloved Caleb, I miss you.

Caleb rushed Elija and I into a cavern with a small opening.

"Caleb!" I shouted. But he kissed my forehead and pushed me back inside. I saw him run toward the enemy with a war cry with his gun in his hands. A shell went off, rocks fell and blocked the entrance, and my love was gone.

Elija cried in my arms for an entire day.

I dreamed about the past week. The injured soldiers came flooding into the only building that hadn't been blown up in the city. Some were quiet and some were moaning. Many were dead. Blood ran over every face and every hand. I recall one specific soldier, an American, came tumbling in where I was and dragging me to the floor. He groaned and blended his words. I began to help him onto a bed, but he fought and yelled at me. I didn't understand what he was saying, he spoke another language. He was bleeding from every part of his body. Another shell went off. A thunderous boom shook the building. I could people praying from everywhere, even I was praying under my breath. All of a sudden, and much more frightening than the explosion, the soldier grabbed me by my shoulders and yelled into my face. I began screaming, I panicked. I thought he was attacking me for not helping him even though I tried. But I opened my eyes and he came closer. Then he told something five inches from my face but I could not hear him. Yelling and screaming filled the building. His blood seeped into all my clothes along with the blood of 6 other soldiers. Crying filled every room. Shouting, "More bandages!" and "More gause!". But him, the soldier gripping me, was now whispering to me. He was crying and it seemed like he was begging. There was so much confusion. I had other soldiers to help. Other people. He was crying at my feet. He could no longer stand.

I wanted to help but the language barrier destroyed every chance.

But the man would not quit. With all the strength he had left, and with my help, he came to his feet and took my hand, and led me to the back of the building. I did not want to go outside. I was afraid of bombs and snipers. But he insisted and wouldn't let me return. When I tried to go back inside, he picked me up and he screamed. I screamed too. "Help!" One phrase I knew in English. But my fear overcame my logic and I began screaming in my home language again. He dropped me outside. I was convinced that he was going to kill me. I offered everything. I would treat him and take care of his wounds, but I guessed he didn't understand me because he then turned around and fell over onto a sheet of rusting metal. I felt a ringing in my ear and I was suddenly on top of the soldier. A shell had gone off near us and blew us both. But I lifted myself quickly and stood away from him. But I realized only then that he was not struggling or moaning anymore. My body was numb. I could feel adrenaline being pumped all throughout my body. I looked around just to be sure that there were not any enemies around. I walked up and touched the neck of the young man. My blood-stained fingers felt no pulse. I couldn't leave outside though. I tried to drag him in but the weight of him and all his equipment were too heavy for me. But relentlessly, I pulled him with all my strength and he came off of the table-like sheet of metal. A small boy was curled up under the table. And that is where I met Elija.

Somehow, another soldier had found me. He took one look into my eyes and we both took the little boy. The only thing I could do was hold him. A feeling of comfort swept over us three. The soldier tapped my shoulder and spoke to me in my language. He asked my name.

"Raha." I said very quietly. He leaned in to hear me say it again.

"You certainly live up to it." He said. Something inside of me told me to stay with the soldier and Elija. I never understood why I do the things I do.