22Enroute to Istanbul, Turkey
Rima was finally asleep. Her head rested against the window, rocking with the motion of the car. After the ordeal she had endured — losing her parents, fleeing a chemical bomb, racing for the border with the Syrian army in hot pursuit, being captured and imprisoned in a cell — it was conceivable that sleep was not easy for the girl. She kept insisting she was not tired until the moment she started snoring softly.
Looking at her, Sarah wondered if Rima would ever get over her trauma.
And, what of her own child, Aftab? Surely, the experience of nearly drowning must be indelibly etched in the infant’s subconsciousness. When and how would that horror resurface? How would she tell him that it was his father who had nearly killed him? Or that his mother’s selfish
