Free Prisoner of Tehran: A Memoir (No Series) by Marina Nemat

it. The beige paint covering the walls and the metal doors was thin and dirty. In one corner, there was a bunk bed. Jars and containers of different shapes and sizes covered the first bunk, and plastic bags filled with clothes rested on the second. In another corner, next to a barred window, gray military blankets were stacked almost to the ceiling. The room was surprisingly clean and tidy. In small groups of three or four, about fifty girls sat on the floor, talking. They were all about my age and looked at me with curiosity when I entered the room. Unable to carry my weight any longer, I dropped to the floor.
    “Girls, fix a spot for her so she can rest!” Soheila yelled as she knelt beside me. “I know how much your feet hurt, but you’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
    I nodded, tears filling my eyes.
    “Marina!” a familiar voice called.
    I looked up and, for a moment, didn’t recognize the girl standing over me.
    “Sarah! Thank God! I’ve been so worried for you!”
    Sarah had withered. Her once glowing white skin had become dull, and there were dark circles around her eyes. We embraced until we were exhausted.
    “Are you okay?” Sarah asked, looking at my feet.
    “I’m fine. It could have been worse.”
    I pulled off my shawl from my head and ran my fingers through my hair, the strands of which were stuck together. I had never been so dirty in my life.
    “Why is your name written on your forehead?” asked Sarah.
    “What?”
    “Your name is written on your forehead with a black marker.”
    I touched my forehead and asked for a mirror, but Sarah said there were no mirrors here. She said since she had been in Evin, she had not seen anyone with their name written on their forehead. I couldn’t remember how it had happened. Then she asked me about the bruise on my head, and I told her about fainting in the bathroom.
    “Marina, how’re my parents? When was the last time you saw them?” Sarah’s eyes focused on me with an intensity I had never seen before, as if she had been wandering in a desert without water for days and I was a gurgling fountain.
    I told her about how worried her parents had been and about their efforts to see her and Sirus. I asked her if she knew where Sirus was and if he was all right. She didn’t know. Then I asked her if she had been lashed.
    The night they had been arrested, the guards had made Sarah watch as they lashed Sirus. They had wanted him to give them the names of his friends, but he had refused. She closed her eyes not to witness what was being done to her brother, but they hit and kicked her and made her watch. Then, they untied him and strapped her to the bed. They told Sirus that if he gave them the names, they would not lash Sarah, but he didn’t say a word, and Sarah was tortured as well. They asked her if she knew his friends, but she didn’t know any of them. Then they asked her about her own friends.
    “I gave them your name, Marina…I’m sorry…but I couldn’t take it,” she said.
    I didn’t blame her. I would have given Hamehd all the names he wanted if he had lashed me only a little while longer.
    I told her about the list. It was hard for her to believe that the guards had tortured us for what they already knew. She asked me why I had not told her anything about the list earlier, and I explained that I didn’t know who else was on it and I didn’t want to worry anyone.
    “Have you seen Gita?” I asked her.
    “Before he tortured me, Brother Hamehd said that Gita had given him my name and address. I believed him and got mad at her. I thought it was her fault that I had been arrested. Then, Hamehd lashed me and I ended up telling him everything I knew. I hated myself for hating Gita.”
    Sarah covered her mouth to silence the pain that had to find its way out of her. I put my arms around her, and she screamed in my chest.
    She finally looked up. “Just before he sent me here, Hamehd told me that Gita was executed the night before. He said if Sirus