Hushed Confessions | ✔

{4} Sabr

Sajdaa Taha

Malik drove the car in silence. We had dropped Alisha home, and now we were driving towards my place. I sat in the front next to Malik, who was listening to rap music on the radio as I cringed. Malik seemed to notice and he turned it off.

"You don't like rap?" he asked, his eyes focusing on the road ahead.

I looked out the window, "Rap music now sucks. It's all about sex and girls."

"I mean it's catchy," he shrugged.

"More like annoying," I muttered. 

Girls at my school would start shaking their butts as soon as a rap song came on, yet when a guy in real life talked like a rapper, then the girls got offended. I didn't understand why it was okay for rappers to say demeaning comments about women.

"Hey, not all rap is bad," he smiled, amused, as he gave me a sideway glance.

"The hardcore ones that teenagers listen to are," I replied, dryly.

He grinned, "I can't argue there."

The events of tonight came back to me. I couldn't get that lifeless body out of my head. What did that girl do to deserve merciless torture? Oh Allah, does the person who wants to kill me really that desperate to make my life a misery? It wasn't fair. She had to suffer because of me.

The car stopped at a red light. Malik eased his grip on the steering wheel. His fingers running through the delicate brown locks of his hair. I noticed that he did that a lot when he was stressed. Malik definitely was a stunning male. I shook my head. Great, someone is trying to kill me and I'm thinking about how attractive he looks.

"Sajdaa, are you alright?"

"Yeah," I mumbled.

The light turned green as he started to drive again. "Seriously, Sajdaa. I'm worried about you," he frowned.

"I told you I'm fine."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Bullshit," he said. "I know that when a girl says that something is wrong."

"What do you want me to say, Malik?" I questioned in defeat. "That I'm terrified of what's going to happen to my family? That I'm scared that more little kids are going to get murdered because a killer is after me? Or that I still can't get over the fact that my only uncle is dead?!" I yelled hysterically at him. I felt tears well in my eyes, but I refused to let him see me cry.

Malik went silent.

"I'm scared," I whispered under my breath, "I'm terrified. I'm worried. I don't know what to do or what to feel."

I don't know why I was telling Malik all these things, but the look he was giving me earlier and even now, it made me feel comforted. His unwavering gaze of concern, the way his voice softened when I cried earlier, it all just seemed like I could trust him.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, careful of his words.

I tilted my head at him, "What?"

"Do you trust me?" he repeated.

"No offense, but you're not Aladdin."

"Sajdaa," he warned.

"Yes, I trust you."

"Then trust me when I say that we will find whoever is terrorizing you," he stated with determination lacing his voice.

I only nodded. Perhaps, not all police officers were bad, I thought as I gazed at Malik.