A silent cry

29 Jabil's pov

It's been 10 years, 10 whole years, any survivor from that war returned, dad didn't, HE DIDNT. Every passing year, I would think she gets over it and accepts the truth but nothing changed and she was left trapped in the year my father left. sometimes I despised him, what could he have said or promised her for her to be so fixated on him believing he's alive? Not only that but he left and people expect me to be a replica of him, I've never even met the man how am I supposed to reflect him? 

I sighed trying to calm down. I tucked my knees closer to my chest and planted my head on them. God, I hate myself. I shouldn't have talked to her like that but she needs to get over this. I listen to the sound of the crickets and I watched alley cats walking over the fences. I let the wind caress my skin. I felt guilty but even more guilty because I wasn't going to apologize and because she doesn't expect me to, either way, she'll forgive me. 

I put my hands in my front pockets. I walk slowly because I knew Marwa, Zakaria, and Hamza are still asleep. I practice shooting rocks at empty glass bottles that kids must have set the day before and never finished playing with at a rubbled house. when I'm done I think about leaping from the window into the large pile of sand beneath it but I couldn't get my uniform dirty not when I know I can't afford another one or how much back pain it will cause my mother to clean it. I hear voices call me, sometimes they sound like my mother and sometimes like Marwa. "turn around, Jabil, Jabil come here" I wave it off. it's all in my head.

I was standing in front of Marwa's house I tried not to sit down even though my feet felt like I was walking on coals. I think it's embarrassing to say I'm in pain and then get told there's nothing wrong with me. it feels like I'm lying. what kind of man does that make me? a wimp? I have to suck it in or else ill sound like a loser 

I focus on the girl's house that I have known my whole life, Allah knows just how much I can't stand her. she was the top of her class, the richest in town, and the clingest person I've ever met. But most of all I hated how my mother forced me to watch out for her when she was obviously old enough to watch her own back.

 I count to three if she doesn't come out I'll go to Zakaria and we can both skip. I didn't feel like going to school today. I need to feel something great today and there's no better feeling than when you steal something. it's hard to describe but once the item is in your grasp your only focus in the world is how to get away with it. the scheme, the adrenaline, the nervous rush, and the relief after it are the most incredible feelings one can allow himself to feel. maybe it's that, or maybe it's just being able to rebel against the rules of the world and get away with it. 

Marwa comes out at the count of six, I don't know why I kept counting. she walks a few steps behind me, wearing a white hijab with a pink flower she crocheted onto it. ew, who the heck crochets flowers on their hijabs?

She's not that bad in the morning, she's usually quiet, half asleep, probably studying something in her head. she tends to study things by recalling them in a super annoying whisper.

" Can you not repeat it so damn loudly?" I said. I feel a tiny rock hit my back and I turn around to glare at her. "what the hell?" she continues her whispering noise. 

we reach Zakaria's house and she begins to walk faster as I pick up  Hamza as well. Zakaria and  Hamza were one of the guys whose dads were with my dad. they never returned. We learned to fend for ourselves, they're like brothers to me. 

"school or ?" Hamza asks picking up some rocks on the streets. he stuffs them in his pockets. 

"yeah, school where else" Zakaria slaps him on the back. They look at me and I shake my head.