I remember screaming, though I don't know what words I screamed. And I remember resisting, though there was little I could do in heels against two military-trained men intent on shoving me into the back seat of their vehicle. Video surveillance captured the moment I was taken. In it, you can see two burly men walk past, watching nonchalantly as I struggle. Inside the vehicle, the men zip-tied my wrists and ankles, and blindfolded me. I kept asking them: Why' I had been working in Iraq as a journalist for more than a decade. I had documented Iraq's fight against the Islamic State from the front lines as a freelancer'at my own expense and at great risk. I had covered social, political, economic, and environmental issues, and had been welcomed into the homes of many Iraqi families whose stories I tried to tell with sensitivity and fairness. Why, I asked these men in Arabic, had they taken me' Why were they hurting me' What purpose did this serve' 'No speak!' one yelled, in what was...
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