The beaming sun peaked through my apartment window, and I awoke. My dad must have been listening to the radio with breakfast, because I could hear the news being announced in the next room.

“...President Gaddafi made an announcement today that soldiers are now permitted to take preventive measures against any and all rebels that are going against the government.” The radio announced, as it did with everything, very loudly, as if this was the story of the century. “Soldiers will be organized into scouting parties and go door to door searching for rebels in an attempt to cut down on the amount of local rebel activity.” The radio announcer said before the radio was quickly shut off, and the house was enveloped in silence. I heard quick footsteps in my direction, and my fathers head peaked around the corner, into my room.

“Gather your things, we must leave immediately” He said with an edge to his voice.

“But why?” I asked completely confused, I hadn’t anticipated a trip today. A look of mixed feelings came over my father’s face, and he seemed unsure. After thinking for a moment, he answered.

“Son, we’re going on an adventure, pack your clothes and anything else important into your school backpack and meet me in the kitchen” He said, before disappearing into the other room and scrambling to pack. I wondered why he was in such a hurry, but reluctantly started packing my favorite clothes, a picture of my parents before they divorced, and my bear. I was trying to cram it all into my small backpack when I heard a knock at the door. I heard my dad stop what he was doing in his bedroom, walk out to the door, hesitate, and open it. I heard some voices but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, so I quietly walked over to the doorway and peaked out to see who it was.

“Sir, we have footage of the recent protest and have multiple witnesses confirm that you were there, and are in fact, a supporter in the anti-Gaddafi protests. We’re going to have to ask you to get in the truck, we’ll not ask again.” I heard the man in the tan outfit said. He looked similar to my green army men my father had bought for me.

“This is absurd! How is a man supposed to live when his opinion doesn’t matter anymore than the peasants. The government can’t prove anything about me. I have a son, and so help me god, I’ll stay here and be his father till my dying breath.” My father said, angry at first, but calm as he finished, clearly meaning every word.

“That’s what you think huh? Voicing your opinion?” The soldier asked sarcastically, while hitting my dad in the stomach. I ducked back around the corner as the conversation turned into an argument and I got scared. It reminded me of the times my parents “had to talk” and I was sent to my room. I always knew they’d start yelling and this was no different. I did what I always did, and hid under my bed, holding back tears. As the yelling got louder, eventually there was a very loud bang that made me jump, and the yelling stopped. I heard footsteps, but didn’t dare come out. I waited until a pair of feet walked into my room, walked over to my bed and picked up my bag. His boots were covered in dirt and smelled strange, definitely not my dads. I waited until the men left, but still didn’t come out, I ended up falling asleep against the cold dark shelter under my bed.

I awoke, suddenly confused as to why I was under my bed, had I been wandering in my sleep? The memories of the past day came flooding back, and I froze, unable to move. I had to get out of this place, leave before it is too late. Pushing back the feelings of pain and agony I forced myself to move out from under the bed and into the blinding sunlight, knowing that my life would never be what it once was ever again. I began to repack everything into my backpack, my clothes, my bear, and the picture of my parents. I put it onto my back, and ventured out into the hallway, looking for my dad. There was a stain on the floor, but that was no surprise. Sometime he and my mom broke things when they argued, and I had to clean it up a lot. Other than that, he left without a trace, but he sometimes did that when he was upset. I figured I should probably go out and find him. As I walked near the door I could hear something in the distance, people, yelling people. I opened the front door and closed it without looking back. I had to go find my dad.

The smell of trash overflowed my nostrils, making them burn, and my eyes water. I Looked both ways and making sure it was clear, and out into the road, wondering where all the cars were, this was usually a busy street. I began walking down the road, and traveled towards the sound of the people, wondering if my dad might’ve been there or if someone had seen him. With that thought, my spirit lifted a little, and my pace increased, maybe I’d see some friends there, and they could give me some supplies to take back and impress dad. All possibilities, but nothing had prepared me for what I saw next. Taking a shortcut through an alleyway, I heard the yelling on just the other side of the buildings and began sprinting towards the opening into the next street, I could hear the yelling, the chanting, like from the crowd just two days ago. As I neared the end of the alley, I began taking note of my surroundings a little more closely, these people, didn’t sound happy like they did before, in fact, they sounded furious. As the view of the street came into view from the corner of the alley, I stopped dead. There was a large group of people that were fighting with armored men, with large, plastic looking shields. A truck was spraying water at some of the men, pushing them to the ground. As I stood there in horror, the one thing that possibly could’ve gone worse, did. I heard a series of extremely loud bangs that hurt my ears, similar to the one in my house. Without hesitation I ran back the way I came as screams filled my already ringing ears. I went into a dead run, before tripping and falling to the ground. I could hear people running toward me, down the same alleyway, and I scrambled to hide next to a nearby dumpster. As the people ran past I could see some of them were hurt and crying. Tears filled my eyes, and my head began to throb, it became difficult to breathe. I cried for what seemed like an eternity, until I had no more energy, the smell of trash was filling my nostrils once again.

“Hey, kid. Hey, you awake? hello?” I heard. It was background noise, like all the sounds I’d been hearing lately, which I had begun to block out. “Kid!” the noise said again, as if talking to me. I didn’t want anything to do with this world. “HEY!” the noise said loudly, but this time pushing me over. I came to and realized that a man was actually trying to get my attention.

“Hey kid, listen, you okay?” He asked me politely. I looked at his face, and realized that he was one of my dad’s friend, one I had recognized during the protest. He probably didn’t know who I was, but maybe he could help me while I tried to find my dad.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I said.

“Alright, do you have a ride out of here?” He asked with quickly, he seemed kind of scared.

“No, I guess not.” I answered truthfully, I hadn’t really thought about getting out, although it did seem like a good idea, and who knows, maybe my dad had to leave and just didn’t have time to tell me. Yeah. He’d probably meet up with me later.

“Do you want to ride with me? I need someone to film while I drive.” He said, revealing a camcorder that he had stashed in his shoulder bag. “You film for me, I drive us both to safety.” He offered, like I had a choice anyway.

“Deal.” I said confidently, taking the camcorder from his hand.

“Sweet, thanks kid, it means a lot.” He said before standing up and motioning for me to follow him down the alleyway. He checked the street before walking across and then down the sidewalk. I sprinted to keep up with him, I wondered why he was in such a hurry. I was just about to ask where we were going when he abruptly stopped, and shattered a car door window with his arm. I was so surprised by his actions that I just stood there, watching him unlock and get into the car. After a moment of fiddling with something, the small SUV roared to life, and he motioned for me to get in. I slowly did after brushing shattered glass off the passengers seat. I watched Libya fly by as we drove through the streets. Everything seemed so different than our quiet little city.

“Those are protestors, trying to get the soldiers to give them supplies, and some to message Gaddafi, demanding that he step down. As you may have seen, it doesn’t work. I don’t care if it’s illegal, I’m going to try and show this footage to someone.” My friend answered sternly, not looking away from the road.

“What do you mean it’s illegal?” I asked.

“Well, Gaddafi has tried to stop all information about what’s going on in Libya from leaving the country. Videos, Quotes, articles, notes, If your found with them, you are arrested.”

“Then where are we going?” I asked, none of this was making any sense to me.

“Out of the country.” He replied, as if that would clear any of this up.

“But you just said that it’s bad to take information out of the country...” I said, utterly confused as to what he was trying to tell me.

“I didn’t say it was bad, I said it was illegal. Someone needs to hear about this, someone needs to see this, and know what’s going on. This information has to get out, somehow” He said before pointing to the camcorder. “People’s lives are in danger, but no one really knows whats going on.” He said with with white knuckles, clutching harder to the steering wheel. He was serious about getting this out, and I agreed to help him. I guess I’d just help him while I looked for my father.

“We’re getting close, get down.” He said to me, reaching over and pushing me lower in my seat. He clearly was nervous, but could hide it with confidence when he needed to, just like my father. I could feel the car slowing down from where I was crouching. I got even lower to the floor, the shadows casting a cloak over me, making me near invisible. A man came up to the car and said something in a different language, maybe two, before asking my friend for some papers. He paused for a moment, before reaching into his bag and pulling out some papers and a card. the man walked away from the car, and as soon as he did, the car lurched into motion again. The car must’ve hit something and broke it, because it rocked hard and the engine made a screeching sound. There was yelling, some loud bangs, gunshots as my friend explained, and flashes of light. My friend ducked down right before the front glass of the SUV broke, and then the car swerved. My dad’s friend opened the door and threw me out, into some bushes that covered both sides of the road. Some men in those weird tan uniforms ran past the bush I was hiding in, but I could barely pick up my head to see what they were doing. I was left alone in the bushes, out of sight, still holding the camcorder, the red light shining onto the dirt road.

I woke up in a village, legs aching and stomach growling. I must have walked here those men who blocked the road, mindless and tired. I didn’t remember any of it. A lady came into view, clearly american, and it startled me. I was confused because Americans were evacuated when the conflict started, I remember hearing it on my dad’s radio. She started talking to me and my very basic understanding of English that my dad had taught me. I learned that she was from a news station, and had found my camcorder in my backpack. She asked me if it was okay to borrow it, and I said yes. She apparently wanted to ask me some questions about what had happened. Dazed, I agreed and she brought in someone that spoke my language. She asked me small questions about everything, what had happened, when, what I saw. I told her as much as I could remember.

After the lady had finished asking me questions, I was given some water and food. The women who spoke my language said that my story was amazing, and that hopefully it would help get Gaddafi’s story told. She also told me that hopefully we could find my dad.