“Just do what they say!” Misch screamed.
“Get the fuck down! Get the fuck down!”
Tal stormed out of the bedroom, right into the thick of their invaders. Mischa just gaped after him, wondering if he was really brave, or just really fucking stupid. There was more yelling, and several gun barrels were pointed directly in his face. But he didn't back down, he just kept demanding to know what was going on, not even a hint of fear showing in his face.
The men were all wearing bullet proof vests, she saw, as well as face masks. They were like shadows moving around in the dusky home. She shrieked when one man grabbed her arm and began dragging her out of bed.
“Please! Please don't hurt us!” she cried as she was shoved to the floor.
“Hey! Don't you fucking touch her!” Tal turned back and began striding towards her.
It took four men to stop him and bring him to his knees. Mischa was shoved against the bed, her wrists held behind her back, her captor's legs pinning her in place. She sobbed.
“I'm okay, just stop, Tal. Just stop,” she begged.
“Hey! I'm with Ansuz! I'm with Ansuz!” Tal began shouting, over and over again.
“Shut the fuck up!” was all he got in response.
Did they hit him? Does he have brain damage? Why does he keep saying that!?
“Look in my fucking wallet! On the table! Look! I'm with Ansuz! I'm with you!” he barked.
There was more arguing, more being told to shut up, more of him insisting that they look in his wallet. He was being kept on his knees, his hands clasped on top of his head. One of the men in black stood behind him, holding Tal's hands in place. And of course, the obligatory knee in the back.
Orders were barked in Turkish, then Tal began yelling in what could only be Arabic. Someone answered him, there was more shouting, and finally, someone went over to the table.
The men in black poured over Tal's wallet. Mischa watched everything get pulled out, one by one, and dropped onto one of the couch cushions. She thought the wallet was finally empty, but then they pulled out one last card. It was large, and laminated, much bigger than a regular ID card.
Everything seemed to quiet down at once. The men murmured amongst each other and passed the card around. Eventually one guy held onto the card and wandered off with it, speaking in hushed tones over a walkie talkie. Not that it mattered, it was in Arabic, so Mischa couldn't understand him, anyway.
“Alright,” the man spoke in English as he came back to the group. “We take you now.”
Tal growled back in Arabic, struggling against his captives.
“Where are you gonna take us?” Misch asked in a sniffly voice.
“You only want me! She has nothing to do with this!” Tal switched languages again.
“We have our orders. You may stay here for interview. She goes to Silivri,” the other man stated.
Misch was abruptly yanked to her feet, and as if that wasn't shocking enough, Tal completely lost his shit. He surged to his feet, yelling and straining so hard she could see the muscles cording in his neck, chest, and arms. Two more men were added to the original four needed to hold him back.
“You can't take her there! It's a fucking prison!” Tal was roaring.
Prison!? I'm going to Turkish prison!?
“You do not make orders!” the guy who seemed to be in charge started pointing in Tal's face. “I make orders here! She goes for questioning! You sit down and you shut up!”
Misch was dragged to the door, her feet barely touching the ground, her wrists still pinned behind her head. She had pulled on an old long sleeve t-shirt of Tal's and her panties before going to sleep, but that was it. She felt so exposed. She struggled against the hands that held her.
“No! No! I didn't do anything! I don't want to go!” she began shrieking.
“I will fucking shoot each and every one of you! Don't you fucking touch her! Let her go!” Tal was becoming unhinged, and he managed to knock one man to the ground.
“Please! Are you going to hurt me!? Am I going to be okay!?” Misch cried.
Everyone was yelling, and no one was answering, so she pulled an old childhood move. She let her legs go limp, forcing the man shoving her to carry all her dead weight. He cursed at her and dropped her to the ground. Before she could scramble away, though, he was grabbing her, his black gloves scratchy against her bare legs. He clawed his way to her hips and hiked her to her feet, then got a better grip and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder.
She was crying. Tal was yelling. The last thing she saw as she was carried out the door was one of the men in black driving the butt of his gun into the side of Tal's head.
She started screaming again.
Mischa sat in a metal fold out chair, her legs bouncing up and down almost violently. Anything to release the tension that was running wild through her body. She'd finally done it, chewed her lip to the point it bled. She kept trying to stop herself, but mostly failed and just kept working at it, welcoming the taste of copper, the sting of pain. She kept her hands clasped in her lap, though she really didn't have anything else she could do with them.
She was handcuffed, and had been for the last eighteen hours. She was also still wearing the same clothing she'd been taken in – the panties and t-shirt. Her hair was crazy, her body was dirty, and every muscle she had was hurting; her brain, most of all.
Am I gonna be here for the rest of my life? Do my parents know I'm here? Does the embassy? Does anybody? Is Tal okay? God, he has to be okay, he has to be okay. I'll die if something happened to him. Please let him be okay.