9 - Finally, I Understood!

In the shadows of the night, with my forced restraints, my mind began to awaken and clear, reaching its peak. I started analyzing and dissecting the facts... Every word, every image, and every situation played a role in this story.

The final picture began to take shape, but it was still filled with gaps. What mattered now was for them to release me, even if only briefly, because I needed to move...

In the morning, Raifa came with breakfast. She sat beside me on the bed and began feeding me bites of bread dipped in honey. Damn it... I hate honey. All the horrifying experiences I've been through are nothing compared to having to eat honey while tied up with ropes. So, I spat out what was in my mouth, startling her. I shouted:

Raifa... I'm fine... I've recovered.

Thank God!

God has truly answered your prayers... Haven't you noticed I'm speaking?

Tal'at told me... He also said it's a trick by the Nadaha... How foolish... It's truly her luck that I'm tied up. I said angrily:

And when will you say I've recovered, then?

When... when you recover! What can I do with this dear fool? My bewilderment is proof of my illness—as she believes—but my return to reality is even more dangerous evidence of the same illness! I took a deep breath and decided to humor her gently:

Raifa...

Yes?

The Nadaha calls at night, right?

Yes...

And it's morning now... So, my desire to be free is beyond suspicion...

Of course...

Then why don't you bring the kitchen knife and cut my restraints? She said as she gathered the crumbs of bread scattered on my chest and chin:

Tal'at swore on divorce that if I untie you, he'll leave me. He only wants what's best for you... Damn it... Things are taking a tense turn with no way out. If she frees me, she'll lose her husband and her family. I said bitterly:

So, I'll spend my life like this? Even if I recover from the Nadaha's call? She looked at me with pity and whispered:

No one has ever recovered from the Nadaha's call... That's why we're sure you haven't recovered. That's all there is to it! Ah, what twisted logic! Now, I have two options: Either spend my day in clumsy attempts to loosen the restraints, regretting I'm not a Houdini, or tell her all my conclusions, hoping she'll take on the task of uncovering the secret... But she won't understand a word of what I say, nor will she believe it...

At that moment, my mother entered the room, cheerfully calling out:

Good morning, my son... Your friend is here.

My friend?

Yes, Dr. Asim and his wife are here to check on you... Tell him whatever you want.

Tell him what I want? The temptation is indeed strong...

Dr. Asim entered the room with his distinctive bald head, carrying his medical bag, followed by his wife, Awatef, who looked radiant in the daylight. As soon as he saw me, he grinned foolishly and exclaimed:

Praise God for your safety, my colleague! Hajja told me you spoke yesterday... My gaze was fixed on Awatef... On her necklace, to be precise. She noticed my stare and buttoned the top of her blouse in slight embarrassment, murmuring:

Thank God for your safety. Dr. Asim turned to my mother and said cheerfully:

We'd like some tea, Hajja... Then he turned to me, sat on the edge of the bed, and said:

I left the clinic at its busiest hour for you...

God bless you... Please, sit down, Mrs. Awatef...Awatef pulled a wicker chair and sat beside the bed, deliberately avoiding eye contact with me... How strange this family gathering was—between a cheerful doctor like him, his wife, and a man tied to a bed with a scruffy beard, looking like a madman... Not to mention I hadn't bathed in two weeks, making me smell like a bear's den...

My mother brought the tea, and Awatef stood to take the tray from her, placing it on the earthen floor beside the bed. Meanwhile, Dr. Asim said:

Now, Hajja, would you leave us for a while? Close the door behind you, as we'll discuss your son's future and why he hasn't married yet...

My mother laughed cheerfully, wished them well, and did as he said...

Now, tell me what's on your mind...

And who said there's anything on my mind?

Your eyes...

Not until you untie me...

That's not happening... I promised these two poor souls... Luckily, they didn't tie your tongue with a rope as well...

I took a deep breath, looked at the ceiling, and said:

Fine... I'll talk... But don't interrupt me... At least put my glasses on my nose...

You got it.

In the beginning, the mystery was as obscure as death itself... There was no glimmer of guidance; that's why I sent a blood sample from a patient to Cairo for analysis, searching for something... Yesterday, the report arrived... It says there's a negligible amount of barbiturates...

So what? Didn't you give him a phenobarbital injection?

No... I gave that patient a phenobarbital injection after, not before the analysis...

Meaning he was taking—or being given—this drug during his illness...

Now, do you know who this patient is? It's Reda Ismail, my brother...

What? You hid that from me all this time?

I didn't see a reason to mention it, but now, upon reflection, I see it was the wisest move I've ever made... Now, let's recall the events... In your little notebook, which you showed me at the clinic when I first visited, you wrote Reda Ismail's name among those called by the Nadaha... How could you know that when my brother's wife never told anyone in the village about it and never brought him a doctor other than me? You wrote his name in the notebook without anyone telling you... Why?

He said nervously:

Maybe I heard it somewhere... The news must have spread...

I said firmly:

Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me? Besides, I met the so-called Nadaha... The situation was terrifying, but I kept her features in my mind... I managed to draw her, but I forgot some details that made her look monstrous, making her appear more like an ordinary woman... When you and Awatef saw the drawing, you were stunned... Why? Because the drawing looked more like Awatef than the Nadaha... But I didn't notice the resemblance at the time and thought it closely resembled Nagat, my brother's wife... The Nadaha I saw had a blue mole on her cheek, which is easy to draw... The red eyes could be mimicked with colored contact lenses... The phosphorescent glow at night is also easy to achieve... The makeup on the Nadaha's face was masterful, but forgetting the mole ruined everything...

Add to that, a woman is a woman... Awatef didn't forget to wear her beautiful golden necklace—the one she's wearing now—while playing the role of the Nadaha. My mind couldn't fully grasp the necklace's design, so it remained a vague image in my memory: two serpents swallowing each other's tails... I don't remember when or where I saw it... And it's Awatef's habit to touch her neck while speaking, which is why I didn't notice she was wearing this necklace until now...

The final point is Awatef's hoarse voice... The reason for this hoarseness is the strain her vocal cords endure from calling out to the farmers at night... That terrifying, inhuman voice must have damaged her vocal cords...

And the day I first visited you at the clinic, I didn't see your wife... You said she was delivering a baby in the village, but that wasn't true... I checked the village's birth records that day, and there were no newborns... She was simply calling Reda, my brother, at the time...

Dr. Asim, with a faint smile on his lips, said:

And what about the farmers who saw her walking on water or leaving no shadow?

My heart almost stopped from fear, and I don't even believe in her... Do you expect a farmer or a child, seeing her with that grotesque makeup, not to lose their mind? They'd see her as they imagine her to be, not as she truly is... And anyway, I don't think you're incapable of fabricating such an optical illusion!

Dr. Asim, exchanging glances with Awatef, said:

But the condition affected you yourself with all its terrifying details... Were you also acting with us? I sighed in despair and said:

That's the gap in my story... But remember, the illness struck me after I was with you, after I drank the tea your wife served me... What was in the cup? And more importantly, I left you at 11 PM and arrived home at 1 AM... I have no explanation for what I did or what happened to me during those two hours... I was a victim of a treatment I don't understand, one that leads to permanent mental bewilderment... And you and your wife hold the explanation...

Dr. Asim looked at me steadily and said:

Now, assuming what you're saying is true, what do you want?

The other half of the truth: Why did you do it? Dr. Asim lit a cigarette, gave Awatef a meaningful look, and she stood up, fetching something from the bag... A glass syringe filled with a white liquid... He said to me:

There's one truth, my colleague... You were observant, but you were naive... Terribly naive... And foolish too. Finally... For the first time, he admitted that what I said was true... But he added:

When someone confronts their enemies with truths like these, they should be in a position of strength, not saying their piece while isolated and tied to a bed... Now, you're entirely at our mercy... You should've waited until you were free... And now...

An air injection into my veins?

No... That's crude... First, I'll give you a dose of barbiturates to make you sleep, then we'll partially loosen your restraints in a way no one will notice... Tonight, when everyone's asleep, you'll answer the Nadaha's call... And you'll bring us to where you know the fate of those who came before you...

I opened my mouth to scream, but Awatef stuffed a sheet into my mouth, muffling my voice, while Asim calmly injected the syringe into my vein... Then he stood up, panting:

When your mother and sister return to the room, they'll know our discussion exhausted you... And that you'll sleep all day... Then he put the syringe back in his bag and laughed:

See you tonight, my colleague!