A Time To Betray Part 6

"I'll be back soon" was all I could say before I headed out the door.

When I got to their house, I found Davood and his wife, Mahin khanoom, khanoom, hysterical. hysterical.

"Reza jon, jon, I know I should have called you earlier, but I didn't know what to tell you until now. We just learned that they've put Naser, Soheil, and Parvaneh in Evin." His shoulders shook and I thought for a moment that he wouldn't be able to keep speaking. The next words that came from his mouth were strained and halting, as though he could hardly bear to utter them. "They pounded on our door in the middle of the night and grabbed my children from their beds." He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "I've been looking day and night to find out what happened to them." I know I should have called you earlier, but I didn't know what to tell you until now. We just learned that they've put Naser, Soheil, and Parvaneh in Evin." His shoulders shook and I thought for a moment that he wouldn't be able to keep speaking. The next words that came from his mouth were strained and halting, as though he could hardly bear to utter them. "They pounded on our door in the middle of the night and grabbed my children from their beds." He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "I've been looking day and night to find out what happened to them."

Mahin khanoom khanoom had been crying while Davood spoke. Now she wailed. "G.o.d d.a.m.n these shameless animals. They took my Parvaneh and my sons." had been crying while Davood spoke. Now she wailed. "G.o.d d.a.m.n these shameless animals. They took my Parvaneh and my sons."

Everything about this seemed surreal to me. "I don't understand why they took them," I said, though I, of course, had an inkling of why they'd come for Naser. It made no sense to me that they would have taken the two younger ones as well, though.

"They took them for no reason," Davood spat. "Reza jon, jon, please do something. Get my children back. They are innocent." He grabbed my arm. "They are in prison, Reza! Prison!" please do something. Get my children back. They are innocent." He grabbed my arm. "They are in prison, Reza! Prison!"

"I'll do everything I can, Davood jon. jon."

He squeezed tighter on my arm. "It has been two months. Two G.o.dd.a.m.n long months! Reza, I have to see them. I need to know how they are doing. I want them back home."

I couldn't understand why he didn't let me know sooner. Even if he didn't know where his children were, he should have let me know they were gone. Was he distrustful of me-in spite of all our history-because I was with the Guards? Could he have possibly thought that I would side with the monsters who had stolen his children and my friends?

"I will talk to Kazem immediately, Davood jon. jon. We will do everything we can. I promise." We will do everything we can. I promise."

"I need to see them," he said mournfully. "Please."

I rushed to work the next day, planning to catch Kazem as soon as he arrived. When I got to his office, though, he was already standing behind his desk reading some files. I told him the news and his face blanched. But his eyes showed no sign of surprise. It was as though he'd been waiting to hear this from the moment Naser started throwing his support behind the Mujahedin.

Regardless, Kazem stopped what he was doing immediately and started making phone calls. It took him some time, but he finally came to me with a name, Haj Moradi, to contact inside the prison.

The next morning, I picked up Davood in my car. He was nearly senseless with anxiety. I could barely reconcile the man sitting next to me with the one who'd led us in song and dance for so many years. I had no reference point for what he was going through. Considering how the simple prospect of discussing having children with Somaya had caused me so much joy, I could only imagine how eviscerated Davood felt by the crisis he now faced.

Evin Prison sits at the foothills of the Alborz Mountains in the northern section of Tehran. A tall redbrick wall surrounds it. There is nothing architecturally appealing about this compound. Its design had one obvious purpose-to strike terror in the hearts of those who approached it.

Things grew more ominous as we approached and heard the roar of a mob. Several hundred people had gathered in front of the huge iron gates. They were shouting and chanting, demanding to see their family members. Some of the women wailed in agony. As Davood and I got out of the car and tried to push our way through, the guards fired their machine guns into the air to quell the crowd. This led to immediate chaos, with people scattering, yelling, screaming, and running for cover. I grabbed Davood and brought him closer to the wall. We stooped down, covering our heads. I told Davood to stay pressed to the wall as I went inside to secure our visitation pa.s.s.

I entered a small office and approached the guard behind the desk. I showed him my card, and after he checked my name with the list of scheduled appointments for that day, he nodded and gestured me in. I noticed a tall tree in the courtyard as I went into the prison. From somewhere in my subconscious, an image flashed before me of Naser dangling from that tree with a noose around his neck. My trepidation increased a thousandfold.

I met Haj Moradi in the prosecution wing. I introduced myself and told him that Kazem sent his greetings. Then I watched in silence as Moradi called another prison guard and said with little emotion in his voice, "Take care of Brother Reza and see to it that his request is arranged."

Haj Moradi handed the guard a folder, presumably containing information on Davood's children. This man took me to a ward on the back side of the prison, one of the several buildings that segregated prisoners by the nature of their offenses. He told me that my brothers in the Guards' Intelligence Unit operated this one, where political prisoners were held. It was a nondescript s.p.a.ce, clean and devoid of personality. I actually found some comfort in this. Unlike the outside of Evin itself, this ward didn't seem designed to intimidate.

But then we got inside the main hallway. Despite the Guards' best efforts to keep the prison clean, the stench of body odors and dank sewage a.s.saulted my face and crawled up my nose. At first I heard no sound, which made the smells that much more overwhelming. Then distant screams and pleas for mercy cut through the silence. They echoed through the hallway from a floor below us. Moments later, I saw a line of blindfolded prisoners being led to a room. By this point, my palms were sweating and my heart was pounding.

The guard told me to wait in the hall while he arranged my visit with Davood's children. The sounds and the smells continued to swirl around me and I felt dizzy and aghast.

Moments later, I stared straight into the abyss. A group of armed guards emerged from a doorway. With them, a dozen teenage girls struggled barefoot down the hall. I went numb as they pa.s.sed in front of me. These children seemed broken both mentally and physically. I could see that some were in shock. Some had tears rolling down their swollen faces. Others had blood caked on their skin. The rest seemed hopeless and resigned, an expression one should never see on someone so young.

I didn't think it was possible for me to feel more miserable than I felt in that moment. Until I realized that one of the faces was Parvaneh's. This stunned me so much that I fell back and had to brace myself against the wall.

The guard who had escorted me to this spot emerged then and I approached him instantly. I pointed to Parvaneh, pleading with him, "That's Davood's daughter and he's here to see her."

The man took my arm, pulled me aside, and whispered, "The order for execution is already in effect. Nothing can be done."

"But she is innocent."

This meant nothing to him. I wanted to rush forward, grab her, and pull her to safety. I wanted to plow through the guards imprisoning her and steal her from this h.e.l.lhole. But before I could make a move, Parvaneh just lowered her head, totally defeated, and turned away. She never even acknowledged my presence. I have no idea if she knew it was me or if she just saw another tormentor when she looked into my eyes.

Tears welled up and I said a silent prayer, feeling d.a.m.ned by my helplessness. I stood paralyzed. Within minutes, dozens of gunshots echoed through the hallway from the distance. I heard a rush of birds in the courtyard flapping off toward the heavens.

And I screamed silently.

When the peal of the gunfire ended, the Azan, the call for the prayer, blared over the speakers.

"Allaho Akbar, Allaho Akbar ..."

The guard who had just paraded Parvaneh and other girls in front of the firing squad joined others in his group in their praise of G.o.d.

"Allaho Akbar.... Ash-hadu anna la ilaha illallah.... Ash-hadu anna Muhammadan-rasool Allah.... Hayya ala-salat.... Hayya alal-falah.... Hayya ala khair al-amal.... G.o.d is great.... I testify there is no G.o.d but Allah.... I testify that Mohammad is Allah's messenger.... Haste for prayer.... Haste for deliverance.... Haste for good deeds. ..." G.o.d is great.... I testify there is no G.o.d but Allah.... I testify that Mohammad is Allah's messenger.... Haste for prayer.... Haste for deliverance.... Haste for good deeds. ..."

I forced myself to complete the arrangements for Davood's visit with his two remaining children. As instructed, I waited in a room in the prosecution wing, trying to make sense of what I had just seen, trying to believe that any hope remained. At last, a guard led in Naser and Soheil, and my heart dropped lower than I thought possible. Naser was hunched over, his arms hugging his rail-thin body tightly, trying to preserve body heat. His clothes hung loosely, mocking him. His face was so gaunt that his cheekbones seemed to be protruding obscenely. He was only twenty-six years old, but white streaks coursed through his jet-black hair. None of those streaks was there the last time I saw him, and I tried to force myself not to think about what had caused them.

Soheil limped in behind him, looking just as broken and dragging his foot as he walked. A livid scar stretched from his lower jaw across his neck. Again, I tried to avoid thinking about how he developed the scar and the limp, but it was becoming increasingly impossible not to imagine the torture inflicted on people I'd known and loved most of my life.

Straightening out the collar on my uniform, I marched past my escort in the hopes of gaining a few private moments with Naser. The guard lifted his hand to stop me.

"Baradar, you have to stay here." you have to stay here."

I glared into the man's eyes. He must have seen the fury and desperation in my eyes, because he wilted back, allowing me to approach Naser.

My dear friend's bloodshot eyes engaged me for the first time since he walked into the room.

"Naser, I am here with your father. He will be here shortly. What have they done to you?"

I'm sure Naser realized that he did not have much time to talk to me. He leaned close and whispered through tears, "Reza, please get Parvaneh and Soheil out of here. I can't watch them being tortured anymore. This is unimaginable h.e.l.l in here. These bloodthirsty animals raped Parvaneh in front of me. They made me watch as they twisted Soheil's ankle around in a circle. How can G.o.d allow this? I pray for my death every second. I can take all the torture they do to me, but I can't stand seeing what they're doing to my innocent brother and sister any longer." He paused for a moment, trying to gather his emotions. Finally, he continued, unable to stop his tears or the tremor in his voice. "I cannot forgive myself for not being able to protect my family. I don't know how I'm going to face my father. Reza, please please get Parvaneh and Soheil out of here." get Parvaneh and Soheil out of here."

I put my hand around his head and pulled him close, whispering in his ear, "I will get them out, Naser. And I will get you out, too. I'll do anything for you. I promise."

The others in the room, including some of my fellow Guards, watched as our foreheads touched, but I did not care. I needed to offer Naser whatever comfort I could, even if it were only momentary release from the barrage of pain his jailers had been inflicting on him. I could not tell him that his little, blameless sister had only minutes before been paraded in front of me and then sent to her execution while I stood by helplessly. I held Naser close to me for a moment longer and then, as if sleepwalking, I walked back through the prison to retrieve Davood.

"Naser and Soleil are there to see you," I said when he looked up at me.

When I brought Davood into the room, I saw an expression on his face that will live in my memory for the rest of my life. It was an expression that said that he'd lost all faith in humankind in an instant.

"Bebakhshid, Baba jon, bebakhshid." Naser and Soheil said these words together, apologizing to their father as though they were somehow at fault. Naser and Soheil said these words together, apologizing to their father as though they were somehow at fault.

Davood melted into tears at that point. I thought I'd seen grief before. I even thought I'd experienced it when my father and grandmother died. But what I witnessed here-the grief of a father anguishing over his broken children-was far beyond anything I'd ever witnessed or felt.

Davood took both of his boys into his arms, and for ten minutes all he could do was cry. No questions; no words. Just crying as they hugged in a circle. I stood to the side, waiting to escort Davood back out.

One of the guards walked toward me and informed me that the visit was over. I gently reached under Davood's arm, telling him it was time to go. As we left, I took one last look over my shoulder at Naser. I tried to convince myself that I would find a way to help him, but the self-exhortations seemed hollow.

As soon as we left the room, Davood grabbed my sleeve and pleaded, "I have to see Parvaneh now. Please take me to her."

Telling myself that I was doing something merciful, I didn't let Davood know that his little b.u.t.terfly had already flown off. Choking back tears, I said that the jail allowed only one visit, and then put my arm around his shoulder to guide him out. He allowed me to lead him, too weakened to do anything of his own volition.

We made our way past Evin's iron gate. Hundreds of people were still outside, but the earlier show of force by the prison guards had subdued their spirits. As we reached the car, Davood turned to look back at the forbidding building.

"Did you see what they did to my children, Reza jon jon?"

I nodded to him silently, knowing that I had seen more than I could even say, and knowing that what I had seen had changed me permanently.

8.

COMMITMENTS.

FOR THE NEXT couple of weeks, I pleaded with Kazem daily to use his connections with the senior people in the Guards to save Naser and Soheil's lives. When I'd told him about Parvaneh, he seemed sincerely sad-what human being wouldn't feel sad over the premature death of someone he used to tease and cajole when she was a little girl-but he continued to blame the Mujahedin for misleading young people and others into confronting Islam. It stunned me that he could not separate his grief over our friends from his outrage at a political nemesis. Why couldn't he simply acknowledge that the torture and execution of Parvaneh, a sixteen-year-old child, was wrong and unjust? And why couldn't he use the power he was ama.s.sing at the Guards to prevent unconscionable treatment for two other people he'd known and loved for more than a decade? couple of weeks, I pleaded with Kazem daily to use his connections with the senior people in the Guards to save Naser and Soheil's lives. When I'd told him about Parvaneh, he seemed sincerely sad-what human being wouldn't feel sad over the premature death of someone he used to tease and cajole when she was a little girl-but he continued to blame the Mujahedin for misleading young people and others into confronting Islam. It stunned me that he could not separate his grief over our friends from his outrage at a political nemesis. Why couldn't he simply acknowledge that the torture and execution of Parvaneh, a sixteen-year-old child, was wrong and unjust? And why couldn't he use the power he was ama.s.sing at the Guards to prevent unconscionable treatment for two other people he'd known and loved for more than a decade?

I continued to hope that Kazem would help free Naser and Soheil until the Monday morning when I walked into my office and Kazem asked me to come see him. Something in his voice told me that he wasn't going to tell me what I wanted to hear. I walked heavily to see Kazem in the building next door, as though I could avoid bad news simply by forestalling this meeting.

When I entered his office, Kazem looked up at me and pointed to the seat in front of his desk, indicating that I should sit down. The room was dim, the blinds were closed, and on the wall behind his desk, a picture of Imam Khomeini stared directly at me. I sat nervously, my eyes wandering to the folders stacked on Kazem's desk, the papers sitting on top of those, and the small flag of Iran Kazem always had there.

For what seemed like a very long time, Kazem did not say anything. He would clear his throat, but no words would come out. I tried desperately to convince myself that he wasn't about to deliver the worst possible news to me. Maybe, I thought, he was going to tell me only that there had been a delay in his efforts to free Naser and his brother. As Kazem continued to struggle to say what he needed to say, I felt growing tension and despair.

Finally, he stood and came over to my side of the desk, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Reza, I just received a phone call from Haj Moradi at Evin Prison." He cleared his throat yet again. "A few days ago, an order was issued from high authorities and ..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Naser and Soheil were both executed yesterday."

As much as I'd come to expect him to say this over the past few minutes, the words. .h.i.t me with unimaginable force. I felt the room start spinning and I had trouble breathing. I turned toward the Imam's picture angrily and stared at his eyes, silently cursing him. Then, bending forward, I put my head on the desk, crossed my arms around my head, and collapsed into myself. An image flashed in my mind immediately of the last time I saw Naser, at my wedding, when he was caressing Azadeh. He was dancing and laughing like there was no tomorrow.

"Reza, I'm going to marry her. I am in love. Now that makes two of us. ..."

I felt Kazem's hands on my shoulders, gripping me tightly. "Reza, I am so sorry. I did all I could do, I swear."

I stood up. I needed to get out of this office. I needed to figure out how I was going to face the future that now lay in front of me. Before I could leave, though, Kazem hugged me and whispered, "Lanat bar in Munafeghin." "Lanat bar in Munafeghin." d.a.m.n the Betrayers, the Mujahedin. He wiped a tear and shook his head. I'm sure he thought he was commiserating, but his sympathy felt hollow. Why wasn't he feeling this loss the way I was feeling it? Did all those years of soccer, Friday gatherings at my grandparents' house, and late-night homework help mean nothing? Was our oath of friendship just an empty promise to him? d.a.m.n the Betrayers, the Mujahedin. He wiped a tear and shook his head. I'm sure he thought he was commiserating, but his sympathy felt hollow. Why wasn't he feeling this loss the way I was feeling it? Did all those years of soccer, Friday gatherings at my grandparents' house, and late-night homework help mean nothing? Was our oath of friendship just an empty promise to him?

"I need to go home," I whispered back, moving quickly toward the door.

I lived in a bubble of confusion for the next few weeks. What was happening to my country? Where was the revolution I-and Naser-had supported? I could not believe that young people like Naser, Soheil, and Parvaneh, the future of our country, were being tortured and executed. How could this possibly lead us to a better Iran? All Naser wanted for his country was to see justice. The revolution inspired him because he saw it as the end of a dictator's repressive rule. He truly believed that the revolution would bring us freedom. Instead, it snuffed him out.

I, too, had dreamt grandiose dreams about the revolution. I felt that Islam, the religion of honesty and hope, would bring justice and equity to all. But that revolution now had the blood of my best friend on its hands. In the name of G.o.d.

The guilt of wearing the uniform of the Revolutionary Guards weighed heavily on me now. I forced myself to go through the motions of working, but I did it bitterly, wondering if I were helping to destroy other futures with every computer I fixed and every Guards member I trained. Kazem kept a little distance because he knew he couldn't help me grieve. For the first time, I thought about leaving the Guards, but I didn't know where I would go or what I would do.

Somaya tried to comfort me, but even though her sympathy was genuine and her desire to help me was strong, she couldn't begin to alleviate my pain. One night, when I was sitting alone at my desk in the den, she came in, held me in her arms, and kissed my forehead.

"Reza, there are other people being arrested for no reason. I know a girl named Roya, who was just released from prison. She won't talk about what happened to her in there. A close friend of hers told me that she was not involved in any opposition group, but she was badly tortured anyway, and she is still in a state of shock."

This caught my attention. I wanted to know more about what was happening in that prison. My heart went to Parvaneh, her last look at me. The shame and defeat in her eyes, the confusion. I needed to talk to Roya. I needed to learn more about what Parvaneh went through, if only to help me understand what my brothers were becoming.

When I asked Somaya to set up a meeting for me, she hesitated at first. I knew my position in the Guards sometimes embarra.s.sed her with her friends. These days, most people looked at a bearded man, especially in uniform, as a threat to their freedom. She tried to allay this by bragging about my knowledge and skill in the technical aspect of my job, but I knew some of her friends questioned how she could be with a man like me. In spite of her reluctance, Somaya agreed to connect me with Roya. This took some time because Roya didn't want to speak with anyone. In deference to her, I did not wear my uniform when she finally agreed to see me.

Roya kept her head down, her eyes fixed on her fingers, as she guided me inside her house. She was wearing the proper hejab hejab but constantly checked her forehead to make sure her hair was not showing while we talked. She would not look at me, keeping her gaze focused on some distant spot on the floor. but constantly checked her forehead to make sure her hair was not showing while we talked. She would not look at me, keeping her gaze focused on some distant spot on the floor.

"Roya khanoom, khanoom, I know you weren't sure about meeting with me," I said delicately. "I completely understand and respect that. Please believe that I would never do anything to bring you more pain or sadness. I just want to know if there is something I can do to help fix the system." I know you weren't sure about meeting with me," I said delicately. "I completely understand and respect that. Please believe that I would never do anything to bring you more pain or sadness. I just want to know if there is something I can do to help fix the system."

There was an uncomfortable silence while she pondered my words. Then her head started moving slowly, side to side. Very quietly, she said, "n.o.body can help." She paused and put a hand to her face. "Do you know what they did to Hamid?"

Somaya had already told me about Hamid, Roya's boyfriend. He was a member of the Mujahedin and the Guards arrested Roya and him at the same time. They released Roya after holding her for nearly a year, but they tortured and executed Hamid.

"Na, Roya Roya khanoom, khanoom, no, I don't know what happened," I said in the hopes that she would talk about it. no, I don't know what happened," I said in the hopes that she would talk about it.

She said nothing for a minute. And then she spoke very softly. "It is not important. I am sorry I brought it up."

I needed to do something to reach out to her. "Roya khanoom, khanoom, I am not part of any of this. I recently lost very good friends in that prison and I would like to know more about what is happening in there. What they are doing is inhumane. But I can't do anything if I don't know the facts." I am not part of any of this. I recently lost very good friends in that prison and I would like to know more about what is happening in there. What they are doing is inhumane. But I can't do anything if I don't know the facts."

Normally, I would never say anything like this to someone I didn't know well; it would be too dangerous. But I was trying to rea.s.sure her that it was okay to talk to me. I didn't succeed. She said very little and I left a short while later, feeling terribly empty.

Just before I left, though, I told her about Parvaneh, finishing by saying, "I need to know what happened to her, Roya."

I had hoped that my visit with Roya would help me get a grasp on the sense of hopelessness and fury I felt. Instead, it only made me feel more confused and impotent. A few days later, though, I received a letter. It came with no sender's information, and with the word confidential confidential written sloppily across it. I rushed to my study and opened it. written sloppily across it. I rushed to my study and opened it.

Reza Khan,I know what happened to your friend Parvaneh.While I was in the prison, I wished many times that I could be free, that I could get out and forget about what happened in there. But now that I am out, I wish I were one of those girls who were lucky enough to go in front of the firing squad. They took everything from me in that prison. I have nothing left.They killed Hamid. We had plans to get married and to have a family with lots of children. He was a good person, he believed in G.o.d and justice. In order to get his body back, they made his parents pay for the bullets they used to shoot him. He was missing an eye. They did terrible things to him-his arms and legs had broken bones protruding out. Every spot on his body had cigarette burns on it. Hamid's mother is now in a mental hospital. She lost her mind after seeing his body.When I was released from prison, I rushed home to see my mother, but she wasn't there. She had a stroke a few months after I was arrested. I did not know I could cause so much agony and grief. I feel as though I killed her. Every day I blame myself for the pain I brought her. I prayed to G.o.d to let me see her one more time when I was in the prison. I asked G.o.d to send me home to her and let me put my head on her shoulder and cry, to ask for forgiveness. She was the only one I had. Now there was n.o.body to tell what happened to me. I had n.o.body to cry to. My mom was not there to hug me and tell me that it's okay-it's not your fault, Roya, it's not your fault to have a binamoos touch your body, private and sacred, which G.o.d forbids a namahram to see. She was not there to tell me-it's not your fault that they whipped you every day, beat your bare feet with cables. I could not tell her that I bled so hard that I would faint, never knowing what they did to my unconscious body.When I was in solitary confinement, these filthy, evil men would come to my cell-every time a different rotten, dirty, nasty guard. Not even animals would do what they did to me. I am embarra.s.sed even to say what they did. They raped me, but it was more than rape. They said the most disgusting things to me. When they were through, they kicked me in the back as hard as they could, threw me down next to the toilet, and told me, "You piece of s.h.i.t, do your namaz now." Reza Khan, I am a Muslim. I believe in G.o.d, and my faith kept me alive in there. I did my namaz every single day, but these shameless people worship Satan, not G.o.d.The day you came to see me, it was impossible to tell you what you wanted to know. But I have since thought about it a lot. I thought about your friend Parvaneh. I felt you were sincere. I could feel the pain in your voice. Today when I woke up, I knew I was ready to tell you what is going on behind those bars-what happened to a lot of other girls like me and Parvaneh.Reza Khan, there are thousands of innocent young girls like Parvaneh being held in there. When I was finally released from solitary, they took me to a small cell, a cell designed for just a few, but which held more than thirty women. I had no complaints about being squashed in with these women. Seeing their tormented bodies and minds gave me the strength and the feeling that I was not alone.Every few days they would call out names over the loudspeaker. We knew what that meant, and we would gather together, hold each other's hands, and pray that they would not call our names. But always at least one or two from our cell would have to go in front of the firing squad. We could hear the sound of the screams, the pleas for forgiveness, and then the gunshots filling the air.They would line up the rest of us and make us hold one leg up for a long time. If you got tired, they would lash you on the tired leg and make you stand on it. All of us were crying. Some would faint from the pain and bleeding. Every day we had to undergo interrogation. I never knew what they wanted, nor did I know how to answer their questions. No matter what I said, they would hit me. One day, to answer their questions, I told them that I was not part of any opposition group and that I had no information. I said I didn't know anybody in the Mujahedin. They got more irritated when they heard the name of the Mujahedin. They cut my arm with a knife and told me that they would cut my throat the next time if I did not confess. The next day they sent me to a small dark room where another guard raped me.This was the routine.As disgusted and down as I was, I never lost hope. I thought about Hamid all the time. Every time I was tortured, every time I heard the click of my broken fingers, I thought of Hamid and the good times we had together and the good times we would have in the future. At night, I thought of my mother and how she would be happy when I came back home-how our life would be the same and how we would put all of this behind us.One day they released me. Even thinking about it gives me shivers.Haj Agha Asqar Khoui, a mullah who was in charge of guiding the prisoners to the Islamic path, became fond of me. In the third meeting I had with him, he told me of his interest in me and said that he would arrange my freedom if I agreed to become sigheh sigheh to him. I don't think I gave much thought to it. Being free was enough reason for me to make a bad decision. I made that decision not understanding that I had to give myself to another demented person; not understanding that I was committing myself to more torture and mental anguish by accepting the to him. I don't think I gave much thought to it. Being free was enough reason for me to make a bad decision. I made that decision not understanding that I had to give myself to another demented person; not understanding that I was committing myself to more torture and mental anguish by accepting the sigheh sigheh, by being temporarily married to a man who already had a wife or two.For a few months, there was no physical pain, no beatings, no lashings, and no breaking bones. But I was disgusted with myself, of betraying myself, selling my pride to a mullah in return for my freedom. Was it really freedom? I did not know at the time. I did not know the heavy price I had to pay to get back to my life. The only life I knew.Nothing is the same; it won't be the same for anybody that has been in that d.a.m.ned prison.Today is a different day for me. Last night I had a dream. I saw my mother, Hamid, and my father, who died many years ago. They were all waiting for me behind Evin Prison's gate on the day I was to be set free. I ran toward the gate as fast as I could to embrace them, to tell them that I was free at last. But before I could get out, the gate closed and I was stuck in that cursed prison.Reza Khan, I no longer can carry the burden of this guilt. I know what Parvaneh and many other girls and boys inside Evin Prison experienced. No one can help; no one can change our lives. I wish I had been shot dead in there. I can no longer go to that dirty mullah every week and pretend that being out of that prison is freedom.I can't live like this anymore. You are habs habs, a prisoner, forever. This is what's happening to every prisoner in there. This is what happened to Parvaneh.

Roya Roya had hanged herself shortly after mailing the letter.

9.

THE PRAYER.

ROYA'S ULTIMATE ACT left me feeling lost. Her death, the deaths of my friends, and the executions of many more innocent young men and women had left a hole in my heart. I would never forget what happened and I would never forgive those responsible. I remembered the sound of the call for prayer at the prison right after they shot Parvaneh. How could these people stand in front of G.o.d and praise him after the unspeakable crimes they'd just committed? left me feeling lost. Her death, the deaths of my friends, and the executions of many more innocent young men and women had left a hole in my heart. I would never forget what happened and I would never forgive those responsible. I remembered the sound of the call for prayer at the prison right after they shot Parvaneh. How could these people stand in front of G.o.d and praise him after the unspeakable crimes they'd just committed?

I knew I needed to do something, but I didn't know what I could do or whom I could talk to for help. I knew only that my desire to act and my sense of helplessness were warring inside of me.

One rainy afternoon, I was sitting in my study looking out the window, staring at the sky, still hoping for an answer. I felt the raindrops were G.o.d's way of telling me he was as devastated as I was. Somaya's knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. She entered the room and placed a tray of food on my desk. She rearranged some books and papers to make room for the tray, picked up the tray from that morning that I'd left untouched, and said, "Reza jon, jon, you should eat something. I am so worried." you should eat something. I am so worried."

I had not spoken to her much in the days since Roya's death, nor had I gone to work or left my room. Before she left with the tray, Somaya's eyes went to the floor where my sajadeh sajadeh lay. "Do you want me to fold your lay. "Do you want me to fold your sajadeh sajadeh and put it away, or do you still have to do your afternoon and put it away, or do you still have to do your afternoon namaz namaz?"

I looked down to where my prayer rug, my holy stone, and my prayer beads lay. I had not done my namaz namaz for days. I rubbed my eyes, looked at Somaya, and said, "No, dear, I was about to do my prayers." for days. I rubbed my eyes, looked at Somaya, and said, "No, dear, I was about to do my prayers."

She smiled sweetly; the dimple on the side of her left lower cheek gave her perfect round face a delicate highlight. The sparkle in her eyes revealed the satisfaction of her attempt to bring me back to life. Before leaving, she said, "Ghabool bashe." "Ghabool bashe." May G.o.d accept your prayers. May G.o.d accept your prayers.