Chapter Eleven: No Escape

Things took a turn for the worse for Abboud and Abbas as they attempted to cross from Bulgaria into the Balkans. Despite their caution and repeated efforts to stay under the radar, luck wasn’t on their side that night.

Just as they were about to cross a border valley between Bulgaria and one of the Balkan states, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the air. Before they could move or hide, a group of Bulgarian guards surrounded them, armed with batons and guns. There was no room for escape.

Abboud (anxiously looking at Abbas): "Stay calm, don’t escalate this."

But one of the guards didn’t give them a chance to speak. He started beating Abbas without warning, knocking him to the ground while Abboud cried out, trying to intervene. The batons rained down mercilessly, and the sounds of their pain echoed in the cold night.

Abbas (gasping in pain): "Abboud, is this the end of the road?"

Abboud (shouting as blood streamed down his face from a wound): "No, don’t give up! We’ll get through this... it can’t end like this."

They were handcuffed and thrown into a military vehicle. The physical pain was excruciating, but the emotional pain was far worse. Their dreams, which had seemed so close, turned into a nightmare in an instant.

After hours of driving along rough roads, they were taken to a temporary detention center near the Bulgarian border. The Bulgarian guards were strict, treating the refugees like criminals, throwing them into cold, dark cells. The cells were overcrowded with refugees from various countries, most bearing the marks of beatings and mistreatment.

Inside the cell, Abboud and Abbas sat in a dark corner, their bodies battered and their wounds bleeding.

Abbas (in a weak voice): "Is this our fate? Are we going to stay here forever?"

Abboud (trying to keep his composure): "No... we can’t let this be the end of our journey. We’ll find a way out. There’s always a way."

The days passed slowly. Each day was a new test of their endurance. The food they received was scarce and of poor quality, and the water barely kept them alive. The air in the cell was suffocating, and the dim lighting made the long nights unbearable.

One day, the guards summoned a group of refugees, including Abboud and Abbas. They were taken outside into the freezing cold, where they were told they would be transferred to a temporary camp in Bulgaria.

Abboud (whispering to Abbas): "This could be our chance... maybe the camp will be better than this hell."

After a month of harsh detention and daily beatings, they were finally placed in a crowded truck with other refugees, their hands cuffed. The transfer to the camp brought a glimmer of hope, despite the grim circumstances.

Upon arrival at the camp, the sight was heartbreaking. Rows of tattered white tents stretched across a large muddy field. There were hundreds of families—crying children, exhausted women, and men in shock, trying to process the trauma they had endured.

They were divided into small groups and placed in one of the communal tents by the Bulgarian authorities. The tents were cramped and cold, barely offering protection from the harsh winds. The camp was ill-equipped to handle such a large number of refugees, with weak infrastructure making daily life a constant struggle.

Abbas (looking around): "How can they call this a shelter?"

Abboud (tired but trying to keep hope alive for his friend): "At least we’re out of the prison... we have to stay strong. This camp isn’t the end of the road."

In their first days at the camp, they survived on the little food distributed to them. The sanitary conditions were catastrophic, with no medical care and a severe shortage of medicine. But despite his deteriorating health, Abboud tried to help others, offering emotional support to fellow refugees and sharing his stories, attempting to keep hope alive amidst the despair.

One of the first things Abboud and Abbas did was buy a shared phone to communicate with their families.

Abboud: "Mom, I’m okay, don’t worry. I’m in Bulgaria now and in good health. I’ll continue my journey soon, don’t worry, the danger has passed."

"I was in detention for a month and couldn’t contact you. I’m sorry, Mom."

Abboud’s mother (her voice filled with quiet sorrow): "My son, you are strong. I won’t be afraid for you." Yet, deep in her heart, she felt the burning pain of knowing her son had suffered, though she hid her weakness from him so as not to break his spirit.

Abboud then contacted Layla, sending her short messages asking about her well-being and reassuring her about his. Her replies were a small glimmer of hope during these difficult times, though Abboud didn’t tell her the full extent of what he had endured to spare her from worry.

Days passed slowly in the camp, and over time, the refugees began adapting to their harsh reality. Abboud and Abbas learned to cope with the daily challenges, and they once again began thinking about their dream of reaching Germany.

The camp was full of tragic stories and heartbreaking tales, but Abboud and Abbas remained determined that this stop would not be the end of their journey.