Many of us did not dare go out on the first day of the temporary ceasefire in Gaza. We were too afraid that it wouldn’t last. On the second day we gathered all our courage and set off.

Daylight illuminated the destruction caused by Israel’s continuous bombardment of the Gaza Strip over the past seven weeks. We didn’t recognize our neighborhoods or streets.

There are entire areas of land where not a single building stands. Nothing was spared: houses, residential towers, shops, bakeries, cafés, schools, universities, libraries, children’s centers, mosques, churches.

The destruction was the first thing we saw. Then came the pain.

Amid the panic, anxiety and strain of surviving the bombs, many of us have not fully grasped the loss of loved ones, the wounds suffered, the lives, bodies and dreams shattered and shattered. Many were unable to bury their dead. Many could not mourn.

As Sabri Farra, a medical student from Gaza, wrote in a post on social media: “The word disaster is not enough to describe this. It is a collective inferno of destruction of the Palestinian people.”

I left my home in Gaza City in the first week of the war. I was lucky to have made it. On the same day, the Israeli army bombed a convoy Number of evacuees, with at least 70 people dead.

The road that Israel designated as a “safe route” for evacuating people from the north to the south was anything but safe. Over the past seven weeks, people who have made it to the south have reported harrowing scenes with bodies of civilians lying everywhere. The horror was documented on videos shared on social media.

When the ceasefire took effect, more Palestinians decided to evacuate from the north in the hope that it would be safe to do so.

But as they headed south, they encountered Israeli army checkpoints where they were stopped and searched and their belongings confiscated. Women in my family and friends told me that Israeli soldiers even stole their gold. They had to walk with their hands up and carried nothing but their ID cards.

Those who got through were lucky, because Israeli soldiers also systematically kidnapped evacuees. I have friends with siblings who were kidnapped and are still missing after attempting to evacuate via the designated “safe route.” The Israelis even arrested a Palestinian poet Mosab Abu Toha. He was released only after a massive international campaign for his release. We still don’t know the true number of those abducted.

The hike from north to south takes almost eight hours if you don’t stop. Many Palestinians find this journey difficult because they are too old, too young, too tired, too starved and dehydrated, injured or disabled.

While going north to south can be risky and lead to kidnapping, going the opposite direction can cost you your life. The Israeli army dropped leaflets on us warning us not to undertake this journey. On the first day of the ceasefire, Israeli soldiers killed at least two people trying to return to the north.

Like hundreds of thousands of Palestinians, I am forbidden to return to my home in Gaza City. It breaks my heart that I can’t check if my house is still standing. Many others whose relatives and friends were shot in the streets or stuck under the rubble cannot recover their bodies and give them a proper burial.

Israel controls everything: where we go, what we do, how much we eat or drink, whether we can save the wounded or those stuck under the rubble for days. It even determines how we care for our dead. His army is forcing more and more of us into an ever-shrinking space before resuming the indiscriminate bombing and genocide.

The humanitarian aid trucks that Israel allows into the Gaza Strip cannot alleviate the humanitarian catastrophe. We’re barely surviving. If the bombs don’t kill us, the hunger, the thirst, the lack of medicine and the cold will.

This break was more painful than the previous 50 days. It is the first time that the people of Gaza can see their open wounds, martyred children, slaughtered families, destroyed homes and shattered lives. Imagine living for six days only to prepare and wait for your death on the seventh day.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Al Jazeera.