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Fear and confusion, then hopeHostage: The Jill Carroll story, Part 10
SPECIAL REPORT
• Interactive: Who's who in Iraq
• Interactive: Sectarian divide
• Timeline: Bloodiest days for civilians
YOUR E-MAIL ALERTS(The Christian Science Monitor I had learned to stop believing the promises, to protect myself from that terrible tease called hope. I used to cling to every word Abu Nour said, analyzing them for days afterward for any hint of my fate. Now, after almost three months of captivity, I just didn't have the mental energy to do that anymore. (Watch Jill Carroll reveal how she reacted to the last death threat -- 1:43) Abu Rasha, the large man who served as the head of the mujahedeen cell I spent most of my time with, once had told me that when they let me go they would give me a gold necklace, just as they had done for Giuliana Sgrena. She is an Italian journalist who'd been kidnapped in Baghdad in early 2005 and held for a month. Money and gold, that was my ticket to freedom. I figured that if they did give me those things, then the end might truly be at hand. Abu Nour said goodbye. I stammered out some kind of reply. Then I waited, and waited. Finally, the woman of the house rushed in with new clothes for me to wear. There weren't proper shoes, so she gave me her own black, high-heeled patent-leather sandals. They fit perfectly. They rushed me into a car waiting outside. I still didn't have gold. I still didn't have money. I began to panic. Abu Rasha was next to me in the back seat. He leaned over me, or so it felt, as I panted, blind, beneath three black scarves. 'Now we're going to kill you'"Jill, we asked the Americans for the women prisoners and there were none," he said. Normally his voice was slow and quiet; now it was loud. "Oh," I said, crouched in darkness, blind, hot and breathless. "And then we asked the government for money, and they gave us none," he said. "Oh yes, I know," I said. "Now we're going to kill you," he said, agitated and close to my head. I thought they were going to do it. I imagined the gun. All they'd told me that day had been lies. I knew I couldn't be afraid. I had to make them think they were good people who weren't capable of killing me. I forced a laugh. "No, Abu Rasha, you're my brother, you wouldn't do that!" I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. He laughed, more convincingly than me. "No, we're not going to kill you," he said. "We're going to take you to the Iraqi Islamic Party and drop you off." I went limp. Tired, frozen, spent, I didn't know what was going on anymore. I couldn't make sense, couldn't analyze. I had nothing left. Click here Coming Monday: Epilogue: Family reunion Copyright 2006 The Christian Science Monitor 
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) -- What did Ink Eyes want? I hadn't seen him for three weeks. He'd promised then that he would release me in three days -- a promise that had been just as worthless as the many other times he'd vowed I was on the brink of freedom.
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