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There are moments when I still wake up in terror, my heart pounding, convinced I’m back in those dark tunnels beneath Gaza.
Then reality slowly breaks through—I am free. After 471 days held hostage by Hamas, I have returned to the world of light, of family, of possibility. But my heart remains heavy, knowing that others still endure the nightmare from which I’ve awakened.
My story begins on October 7, a day that tore my life in two. I went to the Nova festival with my best friend Gaya Halifa, looking forward to a day of music and celebration. When the terror attack began, we tried desperately to escape. After hiding in the bushes, Ben Shimoni arrived in his car to rescue me, Gaya and Ofir Tzarfati.
For a brief moment, we thought we were safe. But that hope shattered when the terrorists opened fire on our car. I was wounded. Gaya did not survive. I remember her last words to me: “Romi, they shot me.” We shared one final look, her eyes meeting mine before they rolled back as she took her last breath. In the end, I was the only survivor from our car. Since returning home, I’ve learned that Ben managed to save twelve other people at the festival that day before coming back to rescue us—a heroic act for which I am eternally grateful.
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Every day in captivity tested every fiber of my being. I lost 22 pounds as food and water became luxuries rather than necessities. The bullet wound in my hand, untreated and without pain medication, led to complete disability in my right hand. Yet somehow, I endured. In captivity, I found an unexpected lifeline—Emily Damari. We first met after undergoing horrific surgeries in Gaza, waking up in a hospital after anesthesia. Thirty-nine days later, we reunited in the tunnels and remained inseparable. Two injured girls, two functioning hands between us, two bleeding souls becoming one.
She was my light when hope abandoned me. When I collapsed to the floor, she lifted me with a smile. When I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe, she wiped away my tears. When I yearned for my mother, she held me tightly and didn’t let go. We fought together to survive, and on January 19, we were both released.
I am incredibly grateful for getting my life back. I owe so much to you, President Trump, for your decisive leadership in advancing a deal that many thought impossible. When I returned, I learned how you promised from your first day in office that you would bring all the hostages back. Your commitment created the breakthrough that led to my release along with 37 other hostages. You achieved what many diplomats and leaders deemed impossible. Your intervention made this possible, and I look forward to meeting you face-to-face to express my profound gratitude. I believe you will finish what you’ve started.
I also thank the brave soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces who risked their lives. I thank my family who, like the families of all the hostages, fought tirelessly, traveled across continents and refused to let the world forget me and all the hostages. Their unwavering advocacy and determination to bring me home sustained them through their darkest hours, just as thoughts of them sustained me through mine.
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Since my return, the journey has been far from over. I’ve been hospitalized, undergoing a 13-hour surgery. I never imagined my condition would be so severe. I didn’t anticipate that my leg would lose function as they harvested everything possible to repair my hand. I never expected to need rehabilitation for months ahead or that I would face multiple surgeries instead of just one. The rehabilitation is incredibly difficult, both physically and mentally. But I will face it all—this is what I waited for during those endless days of captivity.
As I navigate this new chapter of healing and hope, I carry with me the memory of those dark days and the people who sustained me through them. I carry the responsibility to speak for those who cannot yet speak for themselves—the hostages still waiting for their freedom.
It feels especially meaningful to mark the first 100 days of Trump’s presidency near Israel’s Independence Day. But true independence cannot exist when our people are still held captive. Every living hostage deserves the chance to breathe free air and reunite with loved ones, while those who have perished deserve to be returned to their families for proper burial and remembrance.
My story is not just one of survival but of the enduring human capacity for resilience. It is about finding light in the darkest places and strength when all seems lost. It is about the bonds that save us and the hope that sustains us.
My journey—and Israel’s journey—isn’t complete until every hostage returns home. I believe in us. I believe in you, President Trump. Let’s bring them all home.
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