Ha'aretz - Twilight Zone / A night in Hebron, by Gideon Levy 
The scars speak for themselves: a scorched  hole in the middle of his forehead, like a mark of Cain, two more burn  holes on his right hand and one on his left arm. The scratches on his  face and arm have already healed. That's what remains from the night on  which soldiers decided to have a little fun with Salah Rajabi, a student  in the 12th grade at the Tareq School in Hebron. 
It's not the first time soldiers have beaten  him up. There have been no fewer than 12 previous attacks. The most  serious of them occurred in 2006, when soldiers broke the boy's shoulder  and he was hospitalized. In December 2008, he was arrested with his two  brothers on suspicion of stone throwing and released after 10 days. On  another occasion he was arrested and released on bail of NIS 1,000. But  this was the scariest attack of all, with the burning cigarettes on his  flesh, the penknife that cut into his face and a mysterious pill the  soldiers made him swallow by force, which frightened him more than  anything else.           
Another "Clockwork Orange" night in Hebron, in  Israeli-controlled Area H2, which has been almost totally abandoned by  the Palestinian residents for fear of the settlers and the Israel  Defense Forces. Another display of wildness by soldiers, who thought  that undercover of darkness they could do as they pleased. The IDF  Spokesman made do this week with an appallingly laconic response: "The  complaint that was filed with the police will be transmitted to the  office of the military advocate general and after it is examined a  decision will be made on how to proceed." Whatever.           
Rajabi, 19, is trying to complete his  matriculation exams. He comes from a poor family of 19 children, from  two mothers. Every day after school he goes to his sweets stand,  peddling cheap baklava in front of his house. He was there on June 14,  too. There was no school that day, because of the exams. In the  afternoon he went to his stand and by 10 P.M. he had sold all his wares.  He then set out to visit his sister, who, like her husband, is deaf and  mute.
He is a hefty young man, muscular but shy, his voice  soft. His older brother, Kaad, sits next to him, to support him. His  sister's home isn't far from where he lives. As he walked up the street,  which is partially lit and partially dark, an IDF Jeep, coming from the  direction of the stonemasons' industrial zone, suddenly pulled up next  to him. The soldier sitting next to the driver opened the door and asked  to see his ID card.           
The driver recognized him immediately. "Is  it you?" he asked. Maybe he's considered a troublemaker, though he has  never been convicted of anything. Two other soldiers, who were sitting  in the back seat, got out of the Jeep and moved toward him. They pushed  him forcefully into the vehicle. Rajabi says he did not resist. He was  frightened. They made him sit on the floor of the Jeep, in the back, but  did not tie his hands or blindfold him, which is standard procedure in  making an arrest.           
The soldiers lit cigarettes: four soldiers  and four cigarettes in one military Jeep with a Palestinian detainee on  the floor, driving through the streets of Hebron, which overnight turned  into Marlboro country. The Jeep kept moving, when suddenly one of the  soldiers sitting in the back placed the burning cigarette against  Rajabi's forehead. While Rajabi was trying to recover from the pain and  shock, the soldier sitting next to the driver pulled Rajabi's arm  forward and stuck his cigarette twice into the palm of the youth's right  hand. Here are the holes. The soldiers cursed him; he's ashamed to  repeat what they said. Then the other soldier in the back seat grabbed  his left arm and jabbed his burning cigarette deep into it. Here is the  hole. Only the driver puffed away tranquilly and did nothing.           
Like all games, it's not over till it's  over. Now the soldier in the back who was the first to brand Rajabi with  a cigarette took out a penknife, one of those with which soldiers  pierce the plastic handcuffs of their prisoners, and held it against  Rajabi's right cheek. Rajabi was deathly afraid. The soldier cut his  cheek across its whole length and then worked on his left arm as well.  Not a very deep cut, but blood flowed from his face. He wiped it away  with his shirt.           
Throughout, the Jeep kept going. They  reached a dark, empty lot in the Jebel Juhar area. The driver stopped  and turned off the engine. The four soldiers got out and ordered their  victim to kneel on the ground. He did as they commanded. They grabbed  his head and forced his mouth open, Rajabi relates. One soldier took out  a pill and stuffed it into Rajabi's mouth. They held his mouth open  until they were certain he had swallowed the bitter pill. Then they  threw him to the ground, got into the Jeep and sped off.           
            
Rajabi lay there in the dark, exhausted and  in a panic, blood on his face and arm. In a few minutes he pulled  himself together, got up and made his way to the home of relatives about  300 meters from the empty lot. It was midnight. He knocked on the door.  His shirt was dirty from the ground and stained with his blood. Opening  the door in his pajamas, Ahmed Rajabi was appalled to see his  distraught relative. He later testified that this was what happened to  Musa Abu Hashhash, a fieldworker of B'Tselem, the Israeli Information  Center for Human Rights in the Occupied Territories.           
"What happened to you?" Ahmed asked Salah  Rajabi, and he told him how the soldiers had stopped him, burned him  with cigarettes, cut him with a knife and forced him to swallow a pill.  The two called Kaad, Salah's brother, who lives close by.           
At this stage, Rajabi felt himself losing  consciousness. He was certain it was because of the pill. Kaad arrived  immediately and took his brother to Aliya Hospital in the city. On the  way, he relates, his brother passed out. In the hospital his stomach was  flushed, but the physicians told Kaad they did not have the equipment  to determine what the pill was. When his brother woke up in the morning,  Kaad relates, he began to attack everyone in sight in a fit of rage or  fear.           
Rajabi was injected with a tranquilizer and  sent home. Since then he has not taken any more exams or returned to his  baklava stand. Last week he filed a complaint with the Hebron police,  complaint no. 230003/2010. The IDF, as we saw, is looking into it.