בשבילך הם עם קדוש לה 'אלוהיך. ה 'בחר בך להיות עם לנכס היקר שלו, מכל העמים אשר על פני האדמה. דברים 07:06
(For you are a people holy to the LORD your God. The LORD has chosen you to be a people of his treasured possession out of all the peoples who are on the face of the earth. -Deuteronomy 7:6)
Ziva David opened her eyes, squinting at the harsh desert sun coming through the grimy window in her cell and moaned piteously. She was still here. In a Somalian terrorist camp, held captive. She bit back a scream as she tried to sit up. She gave up and laid back down.
The only thing that hurt worse than her broken, bruised body right now was her heart. Her heart ached.
She desperately tried to remember what had happened last night. Eventually, the memories came back, like a rushing river, flooding her mind and making her drown.
Last night had been the worst she had ever had, she finally managed to recall.
First, he had sent in some of his men to have some fun with her. How many had there been? Three? Four? Maybe five. The most he had ever let come, that she knew for sure. All she could recall was she had been pinned down, as one by one, they each took a turn, while the others jeered and called out advice. She had tried to fight back and had earned herself only more misery and a broken rib.
After his men had had their "fix", he came in. Instead of his normal interrogation "tools", he instead carried with him many of the symbols of her faith: an old, worn copy of the Tanakh, a beautiful, gold menorah, Shabbat candles, a tallit, and her necklace. Her beloved necklace. The one she had vowed to never be taken off her, even under pain of death. The gold Star of David pendant scintillated brightly as it swung from side to side in the hot afternoon sun pouring in through the single window in the adobe and stone structure. Her mother had given it to her. She still remembered that day like it was yesterday...
Flashback...
"Ziva! Come here! I must tell you something!" Ima called.
"Coming, Ima!" came the young girl's prompt reply.
She hurried quickly to her mother's side, "Yes, Ima?"
"Ziva. It is almost your twelfth birthday! Your Bat Mitzvah is in two days! Do you have your parsha memorized? The rabbi is coming this afternoon to practice with you. Your papa wants it memorized perfectly."
"Yes, Ima. I could say it backwards and forwards!"
The older woman smiled at the younger's enthusiasm. "That won't be necessary, Ziva. I have a gift for you!" She unclasped the small necklace she always wore on her neck. She held it up, and the gold Star of David pendant shimmered in the sun's warm glow. "This is a very special necklace. I got this from my ima, who gave it to me before my Bat Mitzvah. My ima got this from her ima, who got it from her ima, whose husband, a goldsmith, crafted it from a small nugget of gold she found in the Jordan River." She undid the clasp and draped the necklace around Ziva's neck. "And now I am giving it to you. Never take this necklace off, Ziva, for it symbolizes who you are. Most importantly, you are a Jew, one of God's chosen people. Next to that, you are a proud citizen of Israel. Then, you are my beautiful, talented, firstborn daughter." She kissed her daughter's head lovingly and gave her a tight hug.
"Toda, Ima! I will never take this off as long I live." Ziva gave a quick hug and kiss to her ima and joyously skipped off to keep practicing her parsha.
Two years later, Ima had been killed by a car bomb. That was when she vowed she would rather die than take the necklace off.
He ordered his men to bring in wood and create a fire in the corner of the room. He poured a chemical on it, causing the room to fill with thick, grey smoke. He sneered cruelly at her, as she choked and sputtered, her lungs aching to find any particle of oxygen. Eventually, he opened the door, allowing the smoke to leave the room.
"Well, well, Ms. David. What do we have here. Today, we are going to try something different. After this, you will wish for death. See this Tanakh? This was passed down for generations and generations in my family." He smiled at Ziva's look of confusion. "Why, you may ask, do I, a Muslim, have a copy of the Tanakh that has been passed down to me for generations and generations? About 150 years ago, my great-great-great-grandfather met this Jewish rabbi who was walking to the synagogue. All the old rabbi had with him was this copy of the Tanakh-" he waved it in front of Ziva's face, "now, my grandfather, he just killed the old rabbi. However, he decided to keep the copy of the Tanakh for himself. My family was never able to figure out why. Great-great-great-great-grandfather supposedly had had some issues. Now I know why he kept it. So you can watch it burn." He tossed the precious book into the flickering flames. The flames eagerly devoured the aged paper, reducing it to ashes in mere seconds.
Ziva's only response was the narrowing of her eyes and gritting of her teeth. He laughed cruelly. "This is only the beginning, my dear Ziva. Doesn't your Tanakh say something about the Israelites being the "chosen people"? The apple of God's eye? Where is your God? Where is your Yahweh-" he spat the sacred of God out like it was venom, "now? He is not there! He has abandoned you, just like everyone else! Your abba, your people, they do not care. They will not be coming to rescue you! Neither will your God. You. Are. Alone," he snarled. One by one, he threw each item of her faith into the fire. The tallit disintegrated within seconds. The brass menorah and silver Shabbat candlesticks, however, slowly melted. Watching them being reduced to liquid was even more painful than her throbbing broken rib.
Finally, the only thing that was left was the necklace. "Passed on from mother to firstborn daughter. Generation to generation to generation. How many generations old is this? Two? Three? Four?" he asked.
She gritted her teeth as she answered. "I am the fifth generation." Her voice was surprisingly clear and strong.
He dangled the pendant in front of her face and dared her to reach up and grab it. "Five generations. Not bad. I know how much this means to you, Ziva. Since I'm so nice, I will even give it back to you! All you have to do is grab it. Yes, that's right. Grab it. Come on, grab it! You know you want it!"
Ziva's arm instinctively shot up to grab the one thing left that symbolized who she was. Laughing manically, he snatched it out of her reach just as her fingers touched the warm metal and threw it into the fire.
A feral cry ripped from Ziva's throat. "לא, לא, לא! (No, no, NO!)" she screamed.
He grinned at her as she clawed at the air, desperately trying to reach him.
"Ziva? Did you truly think that I would give it back to you?" he snarled. "Stupid bitch. So easily manipulated by a piece of jewelry." He shook his head sadly. He called for his henchmen, "Take her back to her cell."
His men grabbed her, and as they dragged her past him, she spat violently in his face. He simply wiped it off and shook his head saying, "That was not a good idea Ziva." He turned to his men and them the simple commandment: "Break her."
And that they did.
She had nothing to live for anymore. Everything she loved was gone. The very last piece of her had been destroyed. Her mind wandered back to the verse she had memorized for her bat mitzvah, "חזק ואמץ. אל תפחדו או להיות בחרדה שלהם, בשביל זה הוא יהוה אלוהיך שהולך איתך. הוא לא יעזוב אותך או לנטוש אותך. "דברים 31:6 ("Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the LORD your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you." -Deuteronomy 31:6). Where was He now? He had promised to never leave or forsake her. She sighed, realizing that it was just another empty promise. And she lay there, praying, hoping, pleading, for death.
A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry I haven't updated in, like, forever, but I've been super busy with school! :(
If you've been following my other stories, I'm sorry that I haven't posted any new chapters lately! :( I have really bad writer's block on both of them! If you guys have any ideas, please, please PM me and let me know! Thanks!
Please review! Thanks! :)