I was killed on the 25th of Aban 1401. The same day that Kian Pir Falak was killed. I was only 14 years old, born on July 5, 2007, I was a resident of Izeh and a third grade student. I was interested in mechanics and technical work, whenever something broke at home I would fix it, I was going to continue my studies in the field of electricity after the third middle school.
Even though I was young, everyone said I was wise and behaved like a thirty-year-old man. I tried to be a polite and listenable boy and to understand my family's situation. My father was a hard worker and I never asked him because I understood his financial situation and I knew that he was empty-handed. Even when I went to school, I did not ask him for pocket money so as not to pressure him .
I helped people in any way I could. Whenever I saw a woman with a heavy load in the street, I would help her and take her to the door. I was the support of my mother and my mother's family. My mother had lost three of her close family members in the last year. In fact, I was the only joy and comfort of my parents' pains and hardships, and my world was these hardships. Unlike many of my peers who didn't have a virtual space, we didn't have a satellite in our family, only a Nokia phone was given to me by my mother so that I can communicate with her when I'm out.
I was very interested in motorbikes and my uncle had bought me a motorbike, but I had promised him not to ride it until I grew up. The national uprising of 1401 started with the killing of Mehsa Amini, I did not go to school on November 25th because of the crowd, but that day I was at the house of one of our family until four o'clock, but then I went home. An hour after reaching our home, I went to the computer game club from there, I played there for an hour, and then I went to my uncle's house. When I got to my uncle's house, the shooting started, masked snipers were shooting at people from the top of our building, I was shot in the head with a war bullet near the intersection of the Red Crescent, I didn't fall flat on the ground... I was struggling to get up but I couldn't and I fell... I was on the border between childhood and adolescence, I had seen this in games, behind the console of our local computer game club, my world was a game world, I killed in the game and was killed many times but I got up every time, there are more people in my world than a single person. Yes, the guns there are game consoles and the triggers are clickers. How did I know that real monsters lurk on the roofs and put masks on their faces and put cartridges in the magazine and aim at the innocent head, I didn't know the rules of the big man's game, I didn't know that the triggers are not clickers and the guns are iron, I didn't know about those people They only have one life... Yes, they hit and I was really killed...
Two hours after my body was transferred to the morgue, the IRGC and security forces stole my body and did not hand it over to my family until they were pressured and threatened to say that I was killed by terrorist forces!!! But no one believed this lie and everyone understood the true story of my killing, and then the people of my city buried me in a grand ceremony in my hometown, Izeh Bakhak, and made a pact with me to fulfill my big dreams by overthrowing this child-killing system.
Do you really know what my wish was? I wished to become rich so that I could help my family.... The wish to ride the motorcycle that my uncle bought for me also went to the ground with me... 💔