We were running, running frantically, with military vehicles chasing us because the military command had ordered that our father be captured. If he wasn't found, we would be arrested.

After a sharp turn, we narrowly avoided an accident. I looked up and saw a poster of our father labeled 'WANTED: ALH IBRAHIM ISMAIL DIAMOND.' I burst into tears. Yusuf scolded me, saying there was no time for crying. I replied that if we were caught, we would be killed. He assured me that they couldn't harm us without Allah's permission and that they wouldn't find our father; they would have to kill us first.

We stood in a large garbage dump, with a huge pit filled with water nearby. In our panic, we fell into the pit. We heard the soldiers' search efforts intensify as they combed the area looking for us.

In the dead of night, I asked Yusuf where we were headed. He said only Allah knew but suggested that if the soldiers found us, I should promise to run while he surrendered. I cried, insisting that we would surrender together and that I wouldn't leave him. We weren't from this state, and even though Katsina wasn't far, I couldn't find our family house alone. Our father had said he would never take us back to his hometown again, but he had amassed enough wealth to sustain us and our descendants for generations.

In the midst of this, we heard the sound of a gun, indicating that our location had been discovered.

We were convinced because of the noise to reveal our location. Yusuf said, 'Wait, don't move, we are inside.' Suddenly, we were surrounded by soldiers with bright lights. Someone shouted, 'Hey guys, come and look at them, I found them.' I started crying as they grabbed Yusuf's shirt and began beating him. He kept saying, 'Run, sister.' Before I could react, they grabbed me and slapped my soft skin, which had never been slapped so hard before.

You know, when soldiers catch a criminal, they take them to a secluded area because it's official business. Everyone knows our father is WANTED, and if someone gets involved, they might get shot if it's related to our father's case.

The one holding my hijab wanted to slap me again, but one of them said, 'Peter, can't you see she's a girl and a young one at that? Remember, they didn't commit the crime; their father did, and even that isn't confirmed despite being seen in the act and searched for everywhere.'

This gave me some relief, but Yusuf's nose was bleeding like a faucet. I started screaming like a madwoman, 'Please don't kill my brother, we don't know where our father is.' One of them shouted at me so loudly that I went silent and felt warmth running down my legs, which I knew was urine.

We traveled for a long time until we reached the Air Force barracks in Mando, Kaduna. I saw the name of the barracks and realized we were in deep trouble. Not only the army but also the Air Force was looking for our father. Thank God they caught us, and not the police, because his crime is more severe and involves both ground and air forces. Oh God, what kind of crime has our father committed? I was thinking this while tears streamed down my face. We were thrown into a place where soldiers torture criminals. I was taken to the women's section, and Yusuf to the men's. I reluctantly let go of Yusuf's shirt after being slapped again. I fainted and regained consciousness later, but Yusuf had long lost his senses. The place we were taken to was a special area for wealthy criminals. The torture there was different; I saw people with their fingers cut off, heads shaved, and teeth knocked out. I couldn't cry, so I prayed, 'Oh Allah, reward me in my affliction and replace it with something better.'

I watched them torturing others, dreading my turn. 'Oh Lord, you see we know nothing about our father's case. Please reveal the truth for Your greatness.'

The next day, they came for me, removed my hijab, and my hair, which reached my back, was exposed. The soldier who pulled off my hijab stared at me for a few seconds and said, 'We will shave your head before Monday and kill you if you don't tell us where your father is. Look at you with that big attachment on your head, you don't even look like a Muslim.' The Muslim soldier who brought me out said, 'I swear it's not an attachment.' Out of spite, he grabbed my hair and twisted it to check if it was real. I screamed in pain as my scalp turned red. I hate suffering, and now my father has brought this upon me. The soldier said, 'Yes, it might be real because you are beautiful. Diamond is beautiful, so his offspring must be beautiful too. But no matter how beautiful you are, it won't save you if you don't reveal your father's location.'