The storm has been howling the whole night, the wind whistling through the tiny gaps of the windows and underneath the doors. The clock blinks 2 a.m. The screaming starts. Everyone’s up—husband, wife, and their two children. Ezra’s thunder-like screams had awakened them. He was sweating profusely. The sweat, coupled with the breeze sneaking through the half-open bedroom door, joined forces, and he felt a cold shiver run through his veins and a sharp pain in his chest.
Ezra, who slept on the left side of the bed for a change that night, stood up, groped his way to the half-shattered mirror, looked at his hands furtively, and then sat on the carpet near the dressing table. He crossed his legs and placed his hands on his knees as if he were carrying something, fixing his gaze unblinkingly on them. His wife, Talia, followed with her eyes every move he made until he sat motionless. She knew what to do next. Before she went to comfort him, she noticed their two children standing in the dimly lit corridor behind the door, their shadows extending like ghosts.
“Go back to your room, sweeties,” she whispered to the little ones while leaving her bed. Sarah and Ziva grew accustomed to waking up to their father’s shrieks in the middle of the night. They returned to their bedroom, not sure about what had just happened to their father, whose screams were louder this time—louder and more painful. The past few weeks were agonizing for them. Their father did not leave the bedroom. All they saw and heard of him was his screaming in the middle of the night, the noise of things breaking, and his moaning during the day. Their mother always kept them away from him. Talia moved slowly, careful not to startle him. He was trembling, his face pale, his heartbeat racing.
“Another nightmare?” she said gently as she sat opposite him.
“This time was much worse,” muttered Ezra, panting.
“What did you see?” she asked again, trying not to sound interrogative, a technique she learned by attending several sessions with their psychiatrist. Dr. David told her that if done properly, making her husband talk about the nightmare could be releasing.
He continued out of habit, rather than consciously responding to his wife’s questions. “We were sent in tanks to Gaza, again… . We were instructed to shoot to kill. That was the order. And…and we shot almost every moving thing: we shot the water tanks, a couple of stray dogs, a cow, a dozen people…and there was that woman…with her kid… . I could not tell if she was fat or pregnant. I could not through the night-vision binoculars. I do not know what happened to the kid. I wish I could know now. The kid cried the whole night. I kept hearing the commander’s order in the background, but it was the little kid’s voice that haunted me everywhere… .”
Sensing that her husband was drifting between dream and reality, Talia squeezed his hands in an attempt to bring him back to consciousness.
“Honey, you were doing your duty to your country. It was your job to follow orders. It’s alright,” reminded the wife, trying to soothe him. He could not hear her. He could not see her. He could not feel her hands touching his.
“The smell of the gunshots, the deep mooing of the cow, and the barking of the dog, the blood on my hands, the whimpers of the woman, and then the cries of the child. The cries of the child. The cries of the child,” he kept repeating. He went on, “Some of the guys were taking pictures and some were writing on the walls. Ben and Levi were dancing around, taking souvenirs from each house we broke into. A lot of people from the dream were real. People I already killed.” Then there was a momentary silence. He was suffocating. His chest was burning, and his heart almost ripped through it.
Deliberately and gently, Talia ran her fingers through his blond hair and tried to see through his blue eyes. She could see pain. And she could see horror. Obviously, talking was not helping. She thought of abandoning Dr. David’s advice.
“We walked into this house,” he carried on. “It was dark. Really dark. They said the house has terrorists. He said the house has terrorists. The general said the house had terrorists. I heard him loud and clear.”
“Darling, I am sure it’s nothing. Just rela… .”
“I walked in. I couldn’t see. Flashlights. There was no electricity. It was dark. We shot everyone. The electricity went back on. And…when the lights were back on…when the lights were on, the general was dead. Ben and Levi. All dead. Everyone was dead. The guys were dead. A little girl…bleeding. Ziva’s bunny. Blood. Our little Ziva…she was…she was dead. I held her in my arms. But she was dead. I killed her with my gun… .”
“Daddy, I don’t do anything wrong. Why did you kill me?” little Ziva asked, dropping her bunny on the floor.