'Seven hours in hell': Three women recall horrors of Nova Festival massacre

Esther dodged bullets and watched a man die beside her, Meital lost friends and hopes to see a kidnapped guard again and Shani was shot and survived for her daughter—still haunted 18 months later

Lihia Gordon|
Three women who survived the horrific Hamas massacre at the Nova music festival on October 7, 2023, recount their terrifying experiences in a special interview with Ynetnews. Esther Shitrit, Meital Ben Gozi, and Shani Hedar, all of whom arrived at the festival to celebrate life, share in vivid detail how a joyful night turned into a seven-hour struggle for survival. In the aftermath, they’ve received crucial support from the Nova Tribe Community, an organization dedicated to providing therapy, emotional aid and events for survivors.
Esther Shitrit, 23, had just finished her work shift at a security company in Rishon Lezion on the evening of October 6, 2023, when she drove with two friends south to the Nova festival. What began as a fun night quickly descended into terror.
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אסתר שטרית, שורדת הטבח במסיבת הנובה ב 7.10
אסתר שטרית, שורדת הטבח במסיבת הנובה ב 7.10
Esther Shitrit
(Photo: Oz Moalem)
“I remember the exact moment the sun came up—6:29 a.m.,” Esther recalls. “The music stopped, and suddenly, I saw rockets.” Before she could comprehend what was happening, gunfire erupted. It was then that Esther realized the full extent of the attack.
“We were in the Gaza border area, but I didn’t know it until that moment,” she explains. “I knew I had to act fast—if I hesitated, we’d all die.” As the driver, Esther had no choice but to flee with her friends. However, their GPS led them into the heart of Kibbutz Be’eri, right into the path of the terrorists. “I stopped in front of the dining hall, and Waze said, ‘You’ve arrived,’” she recalls. “That’s when I realized something terrible was about to happen.”
Turning the car around in a desperate bid to escape, they encountered a convoy of armed terrorists on motorcycles. Esther was forced to floor the gas pedal. “They opened fire,” she says. “The car filled with gunpowder smoke. I thought I was going to die.”
As bullets struck the car, one of her friends, Lior, was shot in the head, and another friend was hit in the leg. Driving through the chaos, Esther passed burned-out vehicles and corpses on the road. “I passed a vehicle with terrorists beside it, smoking cigarettes and dragging bodies out,” she recalls. “I wanted to believe the army would come, that someone would save us. But no one came. I called my uncle, screaming, ‘They’re killing me, help!’ But he couldn’t hear me over the gunfire. I’ve never felt so alone.”
Eventually, Esther’s car brakes failed due to the bullet damage. She stopped on a gravel path, and the three women escaped on foot. They ran toward the festival area, eventually finding shelter in an ambulance, where Esther reunited with Lior. Lior’s face was severely disfigured, but Esther was determined to keep going. “I told her, ‘We’re going. Give me your hand,’” she says.
The women moved from one hiding spot to another, eventually finding refuge behind a disabled tank operated by two festivalgoers, Daniel and Neria Sharabi, who had taken control of the vehicle and were fighting off terrorists. Esther remembers lying behind the tank as gunfire intensified, and the horror only escalated. “Then someone yelled ‘RPG!’ and there was a huge explosion. I thought that was the end. Everything went black. I smelled smoke. I begged: ‘Please don’t let it hurt. Don’t let them torture me or kidnap me.’”
For hours, Esther lay in fear, trying to survive. “Most of the time, I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t been hit,” she recalls. “But that only made me more afraid—like it was only a matter of time.” At 1:00 p.m., nearly seven hours after the attack began, the first evacuation vehicle arrived. “I knew no one would help me—I didn’t look injured,” Esther says. “So I smeared blood on my legs, held on to Lior, and didn’t let go.”
On the ride out, Esther tried to save a young man who was bleeding profusely. “I had a gauze pad and water. I cleaned his face, but he died right next to me. He was my age.”
That night, Esther stayed with her uncle in Netanya, too overwhelmed by guilt to go home. “I felt like I’d failed my parents,” she says. “Like I’d left them behind.”
Since then, Esther has struggled with the trauma, feeling a deep sense of emotional and physical pain. “I wasn’t physically ill. My soul was sick,” she says. “Some days, I couldn’t move. Every noise—an ambulance, an alarm, a neighbor’s voice—made me tremble.”
Yet Esther also holds on to hope. “I know I’ll never be the same,” she says. “Even at 40, I’ll have anxiety. But I won’t let it win. I want to dance again. Live. Believe there’s life after this.”

'In the middle of chaos, I called my mother'

For Meital Ben Gozi, 24, from Tel Aviv, the Nova festival was her first nature party. She had been looking forward to the experience, but it soon turned tragic.
At 6:35 a.m., the music suddenly stopped. “I thought it was a joke,” Meital recalls. “Maybe someone went onstage or took a break.” But the reality soon became clear when the sound of gunfire followed by the cry of “Red Alert” filled the air. “I didn’t hear a siren—I didn’t know the area,” Meital says.
Meital, along with her friend Bat Sheva, ran to find shelter but was unable to locate their friend Guy. She called her mother, trying to keep her calm, but couldn’t escape the overwhelming feeling of dread. “I said, ‘I’m crazy about you,’” Meital recalls. “It felt like a goodbye.”
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מיטל בן גוזי, שורדת הטבח במסיבת הנובה ב 7.10
מיטל בן גוזי, שורדת הטבח במסיבת הנובה ב 7.10
Meital Ben Gozi
(Photo: Avigail Uzi)
The three eventually reunited and began heading toward an exit, but things quickly escalated. “Someone said it was a normal ‘Red Alert,’ but then he said, ‘No, something big is happening,’” Meital remembers. They soon found themselves hiding as the terror unfolded around them. After hearing from a friend in danger, Meital and Bat Sheva hid in a bush as gunfire shredded the leaves around them. Meital recalls feeling exposed, with every sound escalating her fear.
Later, Meital saw a security guard with blue eyes, who introduced himself as Bar Kuperstein. “I’m still waiting for him to return from captivity,” she says. “I’d love to meet him, ask if he remembers me.”
Eventually, Meital’s friends Guy and Ben were murdered on Route 232. “Guy was one of the kindest people I’ve known,” she says. “After my brother died, he was the only one brave enough to talk to me about the grief.”
Returning home to Tel Aviv that evening, Meital recalls the shock of walking through her front door. “I stood at my door, punched in the code, and couldn’t believe I was back,” she says. “No peace. Just news reports, calls, and tears.”
Despite daily struggles with anxiety, Meital continues to press forward, longing for peace and healing. “I want to feel like my angels are with me,” she says. “That someone is protecting me. That my heart doesn’t have to scream so loud.”

'I promised my daughter I’d survive'

Shani Hedar, 36, a fitness coach and mother to a 14-year-old girl, arrived at the Nova festival with her friend Alex as the attack began. At first, they thought it was a drill when sirens blared, but the sound of gunfire quickly shattered any illusions of safety.
“I saw Israeli army jeeps zigzagging, followed by gunmen and bursts of fire,” Shani says. “I screamed at Alex to get in the car. Then I saw 10-15 terrorists running toward us from the bushes. I had one second to decide—I hit the gas and drove into the open trees.”
As Shani drove, a bullet tore into her right shoulder. “My whole arm exploded,” she recalls. She kept driving with her left hand as Alex screamed, “Don’t stop!”
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שני הדר, שורדת הטבח במסיבת הנובה ב 7.10
שני הדר, שורדת הטבח במסיבת הנובה ב 7.10
Shani Hedar
(Photo: Dana Kopel)
They ended up in open terrain near the Gaza fence, exposed to the elements and with no water or cover. Hours passed before a drone appeared. Shani mistakenly thought it was an Israeli drone. “I waved,” she recalls, “but it opened fire. It was targeting us.”
Shani, like Esther and Meital, struggled physically and emotionally. “It doesn’t end when the bullet leaves the body,” she says. “Every loud noise brings me back to that moment.”
Despite the lingering trauma, all three women find strength in the support provided by the Nova Tribe community. The organization was founded in the aftermath of the massacre and continues to offer therapy and a safe space for survivors to heal.
Esther, Shani, and Meital emphasize how vital this community has been to their recovery. “We don’t need to say much to each other—we just understand. We’re healing together,” Esther says.
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For all three women, the journey of healing is ongoing. But with the support of Nova Tribe and their commitment to recovery, they are finding ways to move forward.
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