I felt like I was breathing through the eye of a needle, and my chest tightened considerably.

The Israeli interrogator had just asked me if I agreed to cooperate with them or not, if I would go down into a tunnel.

My nerves were on edge, my mind reeling; I didn’t know what I should choose.

It was after midnight on 7 December 2023 – the interrogator was sitting in front of me, a table in between us.

I was seated in a school chair, stripped down to my underwear and wrapped in a blanket.

My throat was still moistened from the sip of water I had just been given, and the sweet taste from the chocolate bar with nuts and dried banana chunks lingered in my mouth.

All these were enticements from the interrogator to gain my trust as he questioned me.