The neon sign of the Al-Safa Motel blinked a harsh, buzzing green against the cracked window pane, casting long, distorted shadows across the small, damp room. Ayat sat on the edge of the sagging mattress, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, her arms wrapped around her four-month-old nephew, Rayan. The baby’s tiny body was trembling, his soft whimpers cutting through the silence of the room.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the moment darkness hit her eyelids, the nightmare replayed with terrifying clarity.