Under the Sun

Chapter 4

As Malik ran home, he felt his heart race and his lungs burn within his chest. His leg stung from the fresh wound, but he refused to stop. It was only a small amount of pain, so he ignored it. There could be worse wounds. He was sweating when he arrived home at last. Dropping down from a rooftop, he noticed the sun disappearing in the horizon. Malik made sure to hide his gifted throwing knife within the folded waistband of his trousers. His mother would not be glad to see him arrive so late as well as with a weapon. 

Stepping into his home, he realized he was right.

Amani turned her head, wet tears having recently been wiped from her cheeks and new ones beginning to pool in once more. Individual strands of hair stuck to her forehead and damp cheeks. She sat at their kitchen table but quickly stood up, rushing to engulf Malik in a strong hug. Her voice rang heavy with emotion as Malik let her cry into his shoulder, he let his own hands fall upon her back. 

"You idiot!" She hit her fist against his chest and sobbed.

Cluelessly, Malik searched the room for an answer to his mother’s hysterics. Equally frightened, his cousins huddled around their small kitchen. His uncle sat at their table, Rahim and Ilma stood on either side of his frame. Ilma's own eyes were red with stains of tears rolling down her filthy cheeks. She wiped her nose and took the seat his mother had left behind.

Rahim had his arms crossed, eyeing Malik dangerously, "We thought you were killed, you fool. I saw the Assassin run after you!"

Of course.

Malik had been an idiot. Rahim had only seen as he had started a fight with guards and mere seconds later had an Assassin run after him after he'd disposed of those very same men. It didn't help that the Assassin had roughly been tossing Malik aside like a rag doll.

Having been gone for the entirety of the afternoon, it was no surprise they thought Malik had been killed. A cruel way to bring his family pain but he was home now. He was alive, perhaps more alive than ever before.

His mother's sobs soon faded into light whimpers, glad that her son was home. She removed herself from his grasp and wiped her cheeks with her scarf. As she looked into her son's face she noticed his scratched cheek, bringing her soft hand up to it.

"Malik," she began quietly, "you are hurt."

Malik shook his head, he grabbed his mother’s hand and brought it back down, "I am fine."

He had much to explain to them all. Much of what he himself had decided on his return home. But first he must make them see things through his own eyes, he must try, it was only right.

"The Assassin- he helped me."

Rahim growled. He shook his head in anger and pointed at Malik, "You were a witness to his killing! Assassin's help no one. Just look at your face."

His mother took a moment compose herself as well as she could. She fixed the scarf atop her head and wiped her face once more, a few light whimpers escaping her throat every now and again. Other than soft gasps and sniffles, she kept quiet and hesitantly listened to what her son had to say.

"Well, he helped me," Malik admitted in a single breath, "He gave me... a gift."

At that, they all took notice as Malik slowly unfolded the throwing knife from within the waistband of his trousers. Malik gripped it tightly, the sharp edge glistening in the candle and firelight coming from the kitchen. Amani kept a hand over her mouth, sighing in disappointment, she took a step back.

Rahim shook his head, his voice loud and stern as he made his beliefs known, "Idiot, he means to kill you with it. You've been marked by death!"

"I'm meant to learn with it!" Malik contradicted, gripping the knife as his fists balled and went to his side immediately.