Iranian author Hamid Asefi was not at his Tehran flat on the afternoon of 5 March when armed intelligence officers forced entry by smashing the door with heavy tools. After checking each unit, they met him on his way back to the building.

One officer "pulled out his pistol, ordered me to halt, and without waiting for any reply hit me hard on the neck and spine using the weapon handle before hauling me inside," Asefi recounted to the Guardian via written answers.

When he asked to see an arrest order the violence grew worse. "Repeated strikes landed on my ribs, kidneys, temples and the rear of my skull. The attack was intense enough that I blacked out once. Upon waking the blows resumed," he recalls.

The assault on the 63-year-old writer persisted after he was taken blindfolded to a holding facility, where an interrogator charged him with endorsing a declaration against the regime’s January protest suppression and with links to Israel.

After he denied signing any statement he was freed and informed the detention had been a mistake. Yet the injuries lingered: three weeks later Asefi was taken to hospital where scans showed major bleeding inside his skull.

"Death no longer felt remote; its presence seemed to cover my face," he says.

Asefi received surgery and is recovering, yet his experience forms part of an increasing set of accounts emerging from Iran as curbs on internet access are relaxed. Alongside those held over the January demonstrations, political detainees and journalists have been caught in a broader sweep since the conflict began. Conversations with former prisoners, family members and advocacy organisations paint a clearer view of mistreatment inside detention sites, featuring claims of torture, physical abuse, food deprivation and fatalities while in custody.

Amnesty International states it has recorded instances of torture and cruel treatment of detainees since 28 February, among them simulated executions via fake hangings and firearms placed in mouths, intense physical assaults, suspension from limbs, extended isolation and withholding of meals plus healthcare.

One person denied food while held is Mehnaz*, a 23-year-old demonstrator who saw fellow protesters shot by machine guns at a rally in the Haft Hoz area on 8 January.

"That moment stays with me. Blood flowed along the road while we fled to safety," she says. Though not seized during the rally, she was taken into custody days before the initial strikes by the US and Israel on 28 February.

"They entered, restrained me and transported me to Qarchak prison. They said the arrest related to social media activity critical of the authorities," she explains.

For over two weeks the young IT worker describes facing nonstop questioning and being refused meals and water.

"I dropped 8 kilos in two weeks. Some forms of abuse leave no marks yet remain forever," says Mehnaz.

More than 80 women shared the ward with Mehnaz, which was so packed they slept on the floor.

The toilets were filthy enough that she requested adult diapers from relatives. Qarchak prison has long been criticised for harsh conditions: the US-based Centre for Human Rights in Iran noted in October 2025 that at least three female inmates died within a week after medical help was refused.

Mehnaz thinks her release occurred only because officials needed room for the many more people detained after the war started.

Some never left alive. For weeks the relatives of Hesam Alaeddin, a father of two, had no idea if he was alive or dead.

Following his April arrest in Tehran during a hunt for Starlink equipment, the 40-year-old vanished into the prison network, according to a source with direct knowledge of events.

"They searched his mother’s home and his brother’s home. They assaulted his brother and detained both," the source states. "When they removed Hesam they beat him badly in front of his daughters, aged 10 and 11."

For weeks the family sought any news. "Each visit to the prison brought word he had been moved elsewhere. It has been endless torment for them."

The request to collect his body arrived weeks later. Relatives later claimed that when Alaeddin’s remains were handed over "not one bone remained unbroken".

"They beat him until he died," the source says, overcome with emotion. "Hesam was a devoted father, husband, brother and son. His wife is frightened and his daughters cannot grasp why he will not return."

Those who spoke with the Guardian about their detention described rough treatment by masked agents at the moment of arrest. Mojgan, a Tehran rights defender, had joined a January protest. Weeks afterward five masked officers entered her home, struck her on the head with a firearm and took her blindfolded to a detention site, she recounts.

"They fractured my toe and aimed only to scare us," says Mojgan.

According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, Iranian reporter Vida Rabbani was detained on 31 January after endorsing a statement against the protest crackdown and urging an end to authoritarian rule. She was moved to Sari intelligence detention centre where she suffered severe beatings, her lawyer stated publicly. Her husband, Hamidreza Amiri, wrote in social media updates after seeing her in prison: "Bruises covered her body; she had been badly assaulted. Because she rejected the compulsory hijab her hair was torn out."

Rabbani says she faced repeated violence in custody. "They labelled me a savage and tried forcefully to make me wear a hijab," she says.

At one stage her male interrogator seized her hair and pulled hard. "I did not notice at the time but later on the cell floor when I touched my hair clumps came away in my hand. I gathered them and fashioned this bracelet," she says.

She says the man sexually assaulted her. "He struck me and then placed his foot between my legs on my vagina. He attempted to choke me. I bit his hand. I felt his bones between my teeth. He then exited the cell."

Rabbani was freed yet reports ongoing panic attacks and insomnia since the ordeal.

Like others interviewed, Rabbani notes the agents employ methods that cause pain without visible signs.

"They possess techniques to inflict suffering without leaving marks. Yet now I cannot sleep and must rely on antidepressants and sleeping tablets."