It has now been over a week that I have been trying to get myself to write something. I tell my story automatically, a narration of things that I can’t believe actually happened to me.

They happened to us all.

On Friday October 6th we went to a party in Be’eri Forest and we had so much fun. It was such a happy night. Everyone was so colorful and everyone was smiling.

We danced through the whole night. We were excited, we laughed and had a lot of fun.

I found myself interacting with so many random people. Who knows where they are today. I chatted complete nonsense with some guy who had come back just the previous day from Pushkar [a city in India] where he was selling saxophones at a completely inflated price. I said hi and was excited to see people that I hadn’t seen in years, and just smiled at strangers that passed by. I really was happy.

“They got to us, they got to every nook and cranny of the area and destroyed all the beauty and magic surrounding us”

The next morning, Saturday October 7th, when all the craziness started, I didn’t believe that it was really happening. We took cover in a Migunit (a concrete, doorless shelter) because that’s what we were taught to do when there are “red alert” sirens. I got angry with people around me for spreading “fake news”. What does terrorist infiltration have to do with anything? Why now of all times? And what was the chance that they would get to us of all people? To the tiny, pathetic Migunit we were in.

But they got to us. They got to every nook and cranny of the area and destroyed all the beauty and magic surrounding us on that day specifically, and in general.

I’m not yet ready to put my Migunit story into writing, but the day will comes and that too will happen.

I have no answer to the question ‘How did I get out of there?’ or ‘Why me?’ (I have been asking myself the same questions many times over the past 10 days). But I got out. I got out together with and thanks to my guardian angel who is also the love of my life, who saved my body and is trying so hard to save my soul as well.

But how do you do that? How do you save a soul? How do you forget the horror? How do you continue living? How do you feel confident again? How do you get back to your regular routine?

We went down there as a group of 12, but only 9 of us came back – and those who did didn’t return whole. We left a piece of ourselves behind. A piece that will forever be missing, from a day that will forever be with us.

My heart is hurting over everything we went through and everything we saw. For the good people and friends we lost. For the homes that were destroyed and the landscapes that were ruined. For the peace and the lives that were, and are no longer.

My body will get back to normal at some point, even if it takes some time after all it went through. But my soul, what about that? Will it get back to itself sometime? How long does it take for a heart to get stitched back together?

Eden Y.

This story was first published on october7.org.