Asylum City Read Online Free
Author: Liad Shoham
missed painting in color, breathing life into his black-and-white drawings, yellowing the leaves and greening the grass and attempting to capture the colors of a white man. He was so overwhelmed, he hadnât even opened his present yet.
He knew he was good, that he had a keen eye and a quick hand. Even Michal had asked him to draw her. Despite his reluctance, he eventually gave in. Michal and Itai were like family, the big brother and sister he never had. He didnât have anyone else. There used to be Hagos, but Hagos was dead. Before that there was Liddie, but she was dead, too.
Amir, the restaurant owner, allowed them a fifteen-minute break every three hours. They also got a free lunch and could take home any food that was left over at the end of the day. Amir was a good man. He paid them a decent wage, and he paid on time, too. John told him the law said they should get more, but it was enough for him. Before Gabriel found this job heâd worked for people who paid much less and never let him take a break.
Not far away, three other Eritrean boys who worked in the restaurant were sheltering from the rain under an awning. Gabriel kept his distance, not joining in their animated chatter. He didnât used to be like this. Back home heâd had lots of friends and loved to be the center of attention. But that was a long time ago. Now he was a different person.
Just as he began on the pigeonâs feet, it spread its wings and he watched it fly away. He was bringing his eyes back down to the pad when his cell phone rang.
âGabriel?â He recognized the speaker immediately. Her voice was shaking.
His body responded with a shudder to what his head still hadnât grasped. Was it possible? He was afraid to hope. He dreamt so often of hearing her voice. He could imagine the moment, the instant he would get a sign of life from her. He agonized constantly over what had happened.
âGabriel?â she asked again, and his eyes filled with tears. He heard a hacking cough in his ear.
HE thought she was dead. The others urged him to accept it. At the border, just before Rafik released them, he asked where she was. Rafik moved his finger across his throat and grinned. Gabrielâs body was weakened and exhausted, but nevertheless he felt the blood rushing to his head. He wanted to kill him right then and there. He didnât care about the consequences or how close he was to Israel and freedom. Rafik raised his rifle and cocked it. Gabriel saw him place his finger on the trigger, the same finger heâd gestured with. If the others hadnât pulled him out of the way, the Bedouin would have shot him without flinching, like he once saw someone shoot a rabid dog in his village back home.
âLIDDIE?â he asked hesitantly, still afraid to believe it. His voice was trembling with emotion.
THE last time heâd seen her was in Sinai. Rafik had his eye on her from the beginning. It frightened them both the way he looked at her. Thereâd been rumors in the refugee camp in Sudan about the things the Bedouins do to women. Gabriel put his hand on her shoulder to indicate that she belonged to him, that she was a married woman, although in actuality she was his little sister. Liddie hid her face as best she could, trying to make herself invisible. Rafik didnât make a move on her the first two days. Just stared. Gabriel allowed himself a sigh of relief. But the third night, everything changed. The Bedouin woke Liddie up and dragged her out of the tent by her hair. Gabriel raced to her defense, throwing himself at Rafik. But Rafik wasnât alone. Two of his henchmen grabbed Gabriel and held him down. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldnât free himself. Rafik dragged Liddie away, screaming and pleading. Like him, she resisted, and like him, she could do nothing to save herself. Michael, one of the other men in their group, tried to come to their aid, but a third Bedouin struck him
He knew he was good, that he had a keen eye and a quick hand. Even Michal had asked him to draw her. Despite his reluctance, he eventually gave in. Michal and Itai were like family, the big brother and sister he never had. He didnât have anyone else. There used to be Hagos, but Hagos was dead. Before that there was Liddie, but she was dead, too.
Amir, the restaurant owner, allowed them a fifteen-minute break every three hours. They also got a free lunch and could take home any food that was left over at the end of the day. Amir was a good man. He paid them a decent wage, and he paid on time, too. John told him the law said they should get more, but it was enough for him. Before Gabriel found this job heâd worked for people who paid much less and never let him take a break.
Not far away, three other Eritrean boys who worked in the restaurant were sheltering from the rain under an awning. Gabriel kept his distance, not joining in their animated chatter. He didnât used to be like this. Back home heâd had lots of friends and loved to be the center of attention. But that was a long time ago. Now he was a different person.
Just as he began on the pigeonâs feet, it spread its wings and he watched it fly away. He was bringing his eyes back down to the pad when his cell phone rang.
âGabriel?â He recognized the speaker immediately. Her voice was shaking.
His body responded with a shudder to what his head still hadnât grasped. Was it possible? He was afraid to hope. He dreamt so often of hearing her voice. He could imagine the moment, the instant he would get a sign of life from her. He agonized constantly over what had happened.
âGabriel?â she asked again, and his eyes filled with tears. He heard a hacking cough in his ear.
HE thought she was dead. The others urged him to accept it. At the border, just before Rafik released them, he asked where she was. Rafik moved his finger across his throat and grinned. Gabrielâs body was weakened and exhausted, but nevertheless he felt the blood rushing to his head. He wanted to kill him right then and there. He didnât care about the consequences or how close he was to Israel and freedom. Rafik raised his rifle and cocked it. Gabriel saw him place his finger on the trigger, the same finger heâd gestured with. If the others hadnât pulled him out of the way, the Bedouin would have shot him without flinching, like he once saw someone shoot a rabid dog in his village back home.
âLIDDIE?â he asked hesitantly, still afraid to believe it. His voice was trembling with emotion.
THE last time heâd seen her was in Sinai. Rafik had his eye on her from the beginning. It frightened them both the way he looked at her. Thereâd been rumors in the refugee camp in Sudan about the things the Bedouins do to women. Gabriel put his hand on her shoulder to indicate that she belonged to him, that she was a married woman, although in actuality she was his little sister. Liddie hid her face as best she could, trying to make herself invisible. Rafik didnât make a move on her the first two days. Just stared. Gabriel allowed himself a sigh of relief. But the third night, everything changed. The Bedouin woke Liddie up and dragged her out of the tent by her hair. Gabriel raced to her defense, throwing himself at Rafik. But Rafik wasnât alone. Two of his henchmen grabbed Gabriel and held him down. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldnât free himself. Rafik dragged Liddie away, screaming and pleading. Like him, she resisted, and like him, she could do nothing to save herself. Michael, one of the other men in their group, tried to come to their aid, but a third Bedouin struck him
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