I wake to the burning smell of ammonia. Combined with my still aching head, it took me a minute to gain control of my senses. Eventually, the blurry spots cleared to reveal I had gotten dragged back to camp, utterly surrounded. At least six masked men, all dressed in desert camo and armed with bolt-action rifles. The patches on their right shoulder were striking, featuring a simplified light yellow feline-face emblem with long ears. Through growing awareness, I scanned the camp for anything, weapons, exits, and allies. Only to end up seeing a haunting site.

"No," I say softly underneath my breath.

I was no stranger to death. I've had the unfortunate circumstance of seeing a dead body once or twice. Adding to that, death was something I tried bracing for, whether it was on the battlefield or for the people I treated. But unfortunately, it's only now that I realized the impact of how it's administered.

Because right in front of me laid one of my brothers in arm, motionless. I tried darting my eyes away, but it was too late. A glance was all I needed to see what happened. The gears started to turn, seeing how he got ambushed from behind, the combat knife slipping between the fifth and sixth lungs with almost inuman precision.—thrown down in the sand choking on his blood.

The dreadful image made me reflexively turn away. Only to find I was zip-tied towards the chair I'm in. My useless rustling got the attention of the men, leading them to signal their leader. But, unlike before, the figure didn't bother to hide, instead making their footsteps known. Each crunch of sand made every hair of mine stand up. My head started to ache again, too, realizing he was the man to knock me out.

After what felt like forever, the curtain revealed my captor. He was a physically intimidating middle-aged Arabic man with a black butch cut, shaggy beard and the same uniform as the others. His most defining feature though was the three large claw-like scars that ran down the left side of his face towards his dark brown eyes.

His first look set our entire relationship better than any words we could share. If eyes were the window into the soul, his was pitch black. Like there was nothing there except a void to be filled. I just so happened to be the next meal. With his burly frame he pieced together his words carefully, until he finally let them fly in a gravelly voice.

" I hope you can excuse the rough translation. English isn't my first language."

I kept silent, knowing that there was a mental game at play. Yet the stillness only seemed to heighten the man's interest.

"Ah, the how you say, silent treatment, right? I've got everything I need to know, Sarah," he said.

An alarm the size of the Liberty Bell rang off. I tried to stuff down my panic, but it still peered through. The drop of sweat was more than enough to have the man press on.

"Word of advice, don't use fingerprint lock," he said while pulling out my phone.

He immediately tossed it into the air, only to unfurl in one fluid motion from his back, a long, metal chain whip, striking it with such precision and power that he rended it to pieces without hurting a single person. A twitch of surprised rage escaped my brow as the man continued.

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"I already know everything I need to. But any additional info is appreciated," he said inquisitively.

I remained quiet, hardening my expression while my heart was practically trembling from fear.

"Fine, if you don't want to talk, I'll just get her to," she said.

Two of his men responded with the wave of his hand, leaving the camp only to return with a hostage. A beaten Jasmine got dragged inside the camp, her mouth, arms, and legs bound. Like a cornered animal, she tried struggling back until she saw me. Her eyes said everything they need to, a form of regret, shock and compassion all flickered in seconds.

Only to end in a look of steely resolve as the leader approached her with the chain whip still in hand. He then positioned himself behind Jasmine, taking his sweet time to wrap the weapon around her throat, all while keeping his vision locked towards me. Once he got done, he quickly ramped things up, tightening the whip hard enough to start strangling Jasmine. Every muscle in my body wanted me to scream out, but I kept going, not flinching, not wanting to give him what he wanted.

"I don't know what it's like in America, but my brothers and I grew up in the slums. Every challenge was a battle of will as much as a fist, so I can tell when someone still has some fight left. So tell me what you know and surrender now before this woman dies," he said coldly.

Jasmine tried for a strong front amidst her gagging. I tried to keep strong to convince myself, but the minute that I saw her eyes roll into the back of her head was the minute I couldn't bare it anymore. Because in all the changes I've gone through, all the pain I've dealt or received, I couldn't bear having someone die for me. So I let loose my tidal of emotion in one desperate-.

"No! I'll talk, okay? Just don't hurt her," I said as tears welled up in my eyes.

Uncontrollably I poured down tears, sobbing and spasming. Then, through watery pupils, I watched the leader effectively lick it all up, retrieving his dreaded weapon and walking over to me instead. Then, with the mind game finally over, all I could do was answer the question that kept hammering at me since this situation started.

"Who the hell are you?"

The leader smiled venomously, waiting for this the minute I woke up.

"We are scavengers. A brotherhood of outcasts who pounce on anything or anyone left behind in this desert. We are the Caracals, and I'm their leader: Asad. From this day forward, though, Sarah, you and your friend are just prey," he said definitively.

The next few hours after that was more painful than any wound, as I spilled our operation. I tried stopping myself, hoping to gain some lie or leverage, but the words kept spilling until nothing was left. Once he was satisfied, Asad had bag over both our heads, leaving me with nothing better to do than the worst part of the experience.

Wait for whatever fresh new hell our new captors had for us. The only distractions from my weakness and self-pity come from the occasional bump on the road. The bumping stopped after nearly an hour, leaving us to get violently shuffled through aimless hallways. Finally, we go thrown into what we didn't know would be our temporary home until the bags were eventually pulled off.

A dark, wet, barely kept together prison. Complete with comparable moldy mattresses, rag-like covers, and a toilet that smelled worse than a sewer. Our new abode didn't matter; I was too wrapped up in my weakness and shame to even let it register. For several minutes we lay still in prison, the only sound being our slowed breathing and the dripping water from above. Eventually, I pushed past the emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion and struggled to find the words.

"J-Jasmine, I'm so sor-," I said before getting interrupted by an unexpected act.

Like a spring Jasmine gave me the most needed hug in my life, one for a second that made me forget where we were.

"Don't you dare apologize for this Sarah. There's nothing you should feel sorry for. They did this to us."

"I know but maybe if I hadn't abandoned camp. If I did something then-"

"Don't go there, Sarah. All we have to do is focus on the here and now. It'll drive you crazy otherwise. Because we are going to get out of here, Sarah, we have to," she said in desperation and fear.

I tried to absorb Jasmine's optimism, but the storm of doubt in my mind still had a pressing question.

"How? We can't fight these guys, and who will be crazy enough to come here? Army? Marines?" I said in a panicked tone.

Again, Jasmine's demeanor changed, growing a little more uncharacteristically serious by saying.

"I may know some people who are willing. Even higher than the Army or Marines. All we have to do is contact them, but I can't go into the details, so you have to trust me, right? Can you please follow my lead just more one time?" Jasmine said while pleading.

Realizing we were both on the brink, I stopped talking. Instead, nodding mindlessly as we started to crawl into our makeshift beds. However, I could tell it would be many more hours before we could fall asleep. And for me, it would be the first of many years of restless slumber as my mistake still clawed away at my mind.