October 7 > Gaza Border Communities > Testimony of Karin B.D
We were saved by a miracle.
I'm sharing my story as someone who once lived in Netiv HaAsara.
Even now, the memories are overwhelming, and I can only attempt to explain it through my thoughts.
On October 7, we woke up to a morning filled with rocket attacks; we were used to rockets, but this time was different.
Huddled together in the bomb shelter, my sister and I both grappled with extreme anxiety.
The cacophony of explosions surrounded us, and then, the unsettling sound of gunshots pierced the air.
It was something entirely new, a grim reality we hadn't encountered before. "Terrorists? All of a sudden? It couldn't be," I thought.
Our parents were part of the Moshav's update group, but the information was still murky.
Suddenly, an announcement shook us - people from our Moshav had lost their lives. That's when the gravity of the situation truly hit me.
"In that moment, the stark reality that we might not survive the day washed over me"
My sister implored us to take action. We quickly barricaded our doors and sealed the windows. Dad, however, was glued to the window, desperate to understand what was unfolding outside.
We felt powerless, knowing we had no weapons while the backdrop echoed with gunshots and countless rockets.
In that moment, the stark reality that we might not survive the day washed over me.
Waiting helplessly in the house was no longer a viable option. We needed to hide and remain silent.
Despite the shock, I managed to formulate a plan for my family. Each of us was given specific tasks. We gathered essential supplies and retreated into silence. Amid the ongoing bombardment, we could hear gunshots and anguished cries from the street.
I composed messages to those I cherished, expressing my love and the grim possibility that this might be the end. I implored them to care for my cats should something happen to us. We remained hidden, our hearts heavy, while the outside world descended into chaos.
News arrived that IDF forces were stationed outside, and around 5:00 pm, they started to evacuate us from the Moshav, providing an escort for our safety. We hurriedly packed our belongings, including our pets, and fled.
"It slowly became clear that people had been killed in houses to the right and left of ours"
Along the way, we encountered numerous security personnel, fires, and abandoned cars.
Rockets streaked across the sky above us. Meanwhile, my sister grappled with anxiety when she learned that her close friends had been killed.
I, on the other hand, was in a state of shock, unable to fully grasp the magnitude of our losses until the following day. It slowly became clear that people had been killed in houses to the right and left of ours.
We were left wondering why our house had been spared, or if they had attempted to enter while we hid. The uncertainty was haunting.
The next day brought news of childhood friends from the area who had either been killed, kidnapped, or were still missing.
My heart is broken, and my mind struggles to accept the grim reality.
I find it difficult to express the pain that lingers within me.
My heart remains heavy, but my mind can comprehend the harsh truth.
I fervently hope that the scenarios I envision remain confined to my imagination.
So, I implore you, let us stay united and support one another during these trying times.
Karin B.D.
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