Eight metal bars stand before myself and freedom. I have sat crammed in a tiny cell for months. The cell is barely six by four and houses eight people. Nothing but a hollow cube of concrete with grey rusted bars looking out onto the courtyard. Dried blood and mud cover the ground. I sit here for my rebellion against the Taliban. I miss my family more than anything but I know I am doing this for them. I held a job at the American embassy in Kabul. I would mostly work with visas and with Americans living in Kabul that was until the Taliban came. I was assigned a job to update the Americans about what the Taliban were doing and how our country is coping. I know the Americans are the only ones who can come save our country. My job was very important; I had to tell the Americans when the perfect time to invade would be. I was the bridge between the Taliban and the western world. It was a risky job, but I knew I had to do it for the future of Afghanistan and my family. That was until one day while I…show more content… I awoke in a tiny prison cell and that is where I still reside. We are hardly fed, and we all have whip lashes covering our bodies. This place violates all of our human rights. I must find a way to contact the western nations to come save us. I have contemplated escaping, but with two checkpoints, huge iron gates halfway to the sky and tanks stationed at the front. It would not be possible. The Taliban are weak, and this is the perfect time to strike. I know there is one way to get international attention. I have to alert the International Red Cross and there is one way I am sure of getting it. I will set myself on fire. I will soak my clothes with petrol located outside the kitchen and run into the prison courtyard for attention, but then jump into the reservoir, situated at the side of the building. This will get the attention of the westerns to come and save us from this inhumane torture
