I am Ayala, almost fourteen. I live in El Matan in the Shomron; I like to read, write stories and draw. I would like to describe to you what it feels like to have a terrorist attack directed at you.
The truth is, at the moment it happened I didn’t really understand what was happening. I saw a ball of light coming towards us. My father quickly stepped on the brakes. The ball of light shattered my window and landed between us. It was a Molotov cocktail. I remember that everything around us was burning. I thought I was going to die.
Afterwards, I started to act. I tried to open my door, but wasn’t able to. I was sure that the central door lock had melted in the heat, but then, my father opened the door from the other side. My entire left side was on fire, but I couldn’t free my seat belt with my left hand, so I put my right hand into the flames, too. Then, I just started running. My father told me to roll around on the road to put out the fire burning me.
Only then did I begin to feel pain. I told my father that his shirt was also on fire and I asked him to also roll around on the road, but he didn’t stop. He wanted to save me first.
I was hospitalized for eight months; that’s where I understood that my life was about to change drastically. Sometimes, I really miss being outside and feeling the sun and doing all the things I want to do. The hardest thing is when people look at me. I see it. I most appreciate the people who don’t try to hide it; they look at me but ask what happened to me – why am I all covered up?
Source: for MORE