It was raining heavily outside. In a dingy room of an Israeli prison, drenched and chilled to the bone, I was awaiting death. Grazing my shoulder on and off was the muzzle of an M-60 machine gun. The soldier who was in his mid-20s screamed, “What were you doing there? Are you not the guy who was painting the wall?” Neither I could say ‘‘no’’ nor could I nod. The only response that came from my panicked heart was: “Can you stop playing with the trigger? I am really afraid.”