CHAPTER 1

Diad was walking home from the market district in downtown Semnan, Iran, lost in thought and without a care in the world. How great life is, she smiled to herself, as a tingle of joy ran through her body. I’ve earned my degree in the U.S.; Terra’s friend Jamila has secured a position for me at the government office building in town; and in the spring I’m returning to America to do some traveling with Mary when she finishes the semester at Michigan State. Diad was feeling proud of her accomplishments and full of herself.

As her black chador absorbed the penetrating rays of the hot afternoon sun, beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. “Why am I covering my head in this unbearable heat?” she asked herself. “This is stupid!” She reached up and loosened the wrap from her face, letting it drape around her neck and shoulders. Then she shook her head to fluff her matted, long black hair and let the gentle breeze flow over her face and head. That’s much better, she thought.

As Diad passed the outside café near the town pharmacy, patrons looked up and began staring at her. Some left their tables and followed behind, whispering and pointing in her direction. Several people came out of shops and joined the forming crowd as it became progressively more boisterous and militant. Several young men dashed in front of her and menacingly blocked her way.

Diad stopped. Thinking things had gone far enough and wanting to avoid further harassment, she quickened her steps as she veered across the street toward the pharmacy. As she moved toward the entrance, the pharmacist Hamid and his two assistants came running out. Hamid had been a friend of her father’s during the Iran-Iraq War. Feeling sure he was coming to protect her, she immediately felt safe.

“You have no respect for our customs or your family,” Hamid yelled at her. “You bring disgrace on all Iranians and Islam.”

Diad started to back away, but Hamid’s assistant Isa grabbed her and shoved her down onto the sidewalk. When she fell, her head snapped back and hit the concrete, stunning her. She looked up through a haze at her attackers. As Isa kicked her violently in the ribs, there was a cracking sound followed by a white-hot pain which shot up the side of her neck.

Diad covered her face with her hands and tried to roll out of the way of the next blow, but Hosein rammed the heel of his boot hard into her chest, completely driving the air from her lungs. Diad gasped for air as Isa kicked her in the side of the head. Hosein stomped on her face, then everything went black.

How can I stop them without appearing weak in front of all these people, Hamid thought. In the name of Allah, they’ll kill her if they don’t stop soon. “Isa, Hosein, that’s enough. We have more important things to do than chastise this foolish little girl. Let’s get back to work,” he said and went inside.

Both men continued kicking and stomping Diad in the head and body, cheered on by the crowd that had made its way across the street to watch. At last, they felt satisfied they had punished her sufficiently.

“Maybe you will wear your veil next time, whore!” Isa yelled, looking at the crowd for approval as he shook his fist in the air. He and Hosein then retreated into the pharmacy.

Hamid instructed Isa to call an ambulance and have Diad taken to the hospital. Isa made the call, but ordered the driver to take Diad to her home instead. He looked toward Hamid and Hosein. “A hospital is too good for such a shameful woman!” he declared passionately. Shaking his head in disgust, Hamid turned and walked upstairs to his office.

The crowd continued to mill around outside, hurling insults and degrading epithets at Diad, who lay motionless on the sidewalk. A young woman pushed her way through the crowd and knelt beside Diad. She stayed by her side, gently stroking her arm and comforting her until the ambulance came and whisked the battered body away.

The ambulance pulled into Terra’s driveway, and two men jumped out and ran to the back of the vehicle to lift out the stretcher. Hearing the doors slam, Terra and her mother hurried to the front door, opening it just as the men were making their way up the front steps with the stretcher that cradled Diad’s mangled body. Terra and her mother rushed out to assist them.

“What happened?” Terra’s mother asked incredulously, her eyes fixed on Diad’s mutilated face. “Why didn’t you take her to the hospital?” she screamed.

“We were ordered to bring her here. She has shamed all Islam,” the driver answered emphatically. “Where should we put her?”

Terra numbly led them up the stairs to Diad’s room. The attendants lifted Diad onto the bed, then hurriedly left. Before Terra had time for her senses to become unfrozen, the door bell rang. She went back down the stairs, and when she opened the door, the anguished face of her friend met her.

“Jamila, Diad’s been badly injured. Do you know what happened?” she asked, her eyes pleading for some comprehension.

“Yes, Terra. I was sitting outside the café when Diad walked by with her head uncovered.” Jamila related what had transpired. “I must hurry back to work now, but I’ll call you tonight,” she said, looking into Terra’s eyes with compassion as she gave her a hug.

“Thank you, Jamila, but let me call you in a couple days. I don’t think I could talk tonight.” Still stunned, Terra remained standing in the doorway while Jamila walked down the driveway. Friends of the family began arriving to see how Diad was. Terra robotically motioned them up the stairs to Diad’s room, then walked into the living room and called the hospital to seek medical assistance.

“Dr. Allawi will be with you shortly,” the receptionist told her. “He’s with his 2:30 appointment, but he’ll be done in ten minutes. Leave your number and the doctor will call back.” She gave the receptionist the number, thanked her, hung up the phone, and hurried upstairs to check on Diad.

Diad was just beginning to stir. Some of the women friends of the family were gathered around the bedside quietly discussing the incident. Diad cried out in agony and opened her left eye. Her face was a mask of pain, distorted by cuts and bruises and the bloody eye socket. Because her vision was blurred by her distended eyelid, she had difficulty focusing on Terra’s face. She thought her right eye must be swollen shut. When Diad tried to speak, her jaw would not function properly, and the pain was so great it shocked her back into unconsciousness.

Terra stared at her sister with profound empathy. Diad had been an exceptionally beautiful young woman, but now, with one eye missing and the extensive damage to the rest of her face, it was certain she would have to endure the rest of her life as a grotesque figure--if, indeed she was fortunate enough to live. Some women did not survive such beatings.

Terra left the room and fidgeted around the house, waiting for the doctor to return her call. She went over and hugged her mother, who had been reduced to a quivering heap by the brutalization of her daughter. She offered words of assurance that Diad would be fine and everything would end well. Even though the call was expected, Terra was startled when the phone rang.

“Hello, Terra Tehrani here.”

“This is Dr. Allawi from the hospital. You called?”

“Yes, it’s my sister. She’s been severely beaten, and I think she’s lost an eye. Also, her nose and jaw may be broken.”

“How did this happen?” the doctor asked.

Terra hesitated, questioning whether she should tell the truth. “Three men threw her down and kicked her until she was unconscious.”

The doctor asked what had provoked such an act. Terra explained that Diad had removed her veil from her face while she was walking downtown.

“When did this happen?” the doctor inquired.

“She was brought home about 20 minutes ago.”

“Is she awake yet?”

“She regained consciousness five minutes ago, but passed out again when she tried to speak,” Terra answered, her voice choking with emotion.

There was a moment’s silence after she finished relating what had taken place. Finally, the doctor sputtered indignantly, “She’s lucky she was only beaten! Whores deserve much worse. It’s good she is in much pain. Perhaps she will learn a lesson! Don’t bring her to the hospital until noon tomorrow. A little more suffering will be good for her. If you bring her one minute sooner, I will not treat her until the next noon. She deserves no medical treatment at all, but

I am a compassionate man, so I will see her tomorrow--not one minute before noon! Good day, Miss Tehrani.”

Terra hung up the phone, disbelieving what she had just heard. Her mother, convulsing with sobs, was slumped over on the couch, oblivious to what was happening around her as Terra staggered out of the living room to her father’s den. She sat down in the old overstuffed chair which had been her father’s favorite before he was killed in the war with Iraq. Her body was numb; her mind blank. She was trembling uncontrollably from head to foot.

Thoughts and images came flooding into her mind that was once filled with memories of a life to be proud of. Had she not explained her values and beliefs to David, her American college friend, many times in their pleasant conversations along the river banks at Michigan State University? What she had observed about Americans during her years in the United States came roaring back--their unrestricted, apparently undisciplined way of life. No defined path, seemingly no rules to follow, yet they were so often kind and gentle. Random acts of generosity toward total strangers continually amazed her.

Oh, yes, there was violence, drunkenness, pornography--but this was the small minority of people. There was always room for discussion about any topic, and women were as outspoken as men, as well educated, held almost any job they were qualified for. Some men resented their intrusion, but in large part, they were respected for their accomplishments.

Something had snapped inside Terra as she stood listening to the doctor on the phone--something that might never again be put back together. Her beautiful, cheerful, bright sister had been savagely beaten and mutilated, and the doctor had prescribed more suffering to teach her a lesson!

Unaware of how long she had been in the den, Terra finally stood up, anger coursing through every fiber of her body. Her graceful figure, 5’8” and 130 pounds, gave no hint that it was capable of being used as a lethal weapon; however, as she left the den, a violent lightning-quick kick bisected the coat tree by the door so swiftly that the top half fell almost straight down.

While her mother still lay on the couch in a comatose state, Terra climbed the stairs to her sister’s bedroom. She thought about her sister--how they’d always been inseparable except when they were away at college, all the fun they’d shared, the mischievous things they’d done in their youth. How proud her sister was. How confident. How beautiful.

She entered Diad’s room, almost in a trance, as she heard the downstairs clock chime five times. Everyone had quietly withdrawn while she was sitting in the den. With tears streaming down her face, she stood looking at her sister, her heart totally shattered because of the great love she felt for her. How could anyone do this? How could any rule be worth this horrible retribution? Her sister, still unconscious, was lying on her back, her bruised and disfigured face too pitiful to look at. What would Diad do if it was me lying here?

Terra slowly picked up a pillow, placed it over her sister’s face, and held it firmly.

“You would do this for me!” she whispered.

After some time, she removed the pillow. She held Diad’s cold hand in hers and solemnly vowed that she would destroy the lives of those who were responsible.

“You would do it for me!” she said resolutely.

In a daze, Terra descended the stairs and walked into the living room. Her mother still lay lifeless on the couch. Terra kneeled down on the carpet and gently wrapped her arms around her. As Gilda opened her eyes, Terra told her that Diad was dead.

Read Chapter 14