Rayhan sighed in pain, he couldn't fathom what had just transpired. His hands were full of used tissues that Abdullah distributed nicely onto his lap. Uncle Ali just passed away only three hours ago and still the trio couldn't pick up the courage to walk out those doors. Abdullah mourned for his father passionately, constantly recalling memories and events which induced more tears into the eyes of both mother and son.
'He supported me in every way, I-' Rayhan interrupted Abdullah's last memoir with a hug.
'Come here, it's going to be alright bro.' Abdullah seemed to lose himself in the comfort of his friend, wetting his shirt both with tears and snot. But, Rayhan couldn't care less. What mattered right now was his friend. He couldn't picture himself being in the same situation with Abdullah just standing and watching.
'He wouldn't want this. He would want you to continue like a strong man, Abdullah. Come on, I'm going to take the two of you home. Come.' Rayhan untangled himself from Abdullah's heavy grasp.
'First of all, let me get a drink.' He walked away from the scene with heavy steps. It was painful. Painful seeing Abdullah in such a vulnerable state. Especially his mother. Aunty Meera had such a patient soul. She loved Uncle Ali to such an extent, they never had a fight in all their 40 years of marriage. She still fought for his love, but a world where he wasn't present made her heart constrict in her chest. But that wasn't the end, he still had to witness his fathers reaction and worse, telling him the news.
Just as he inserted his coins into the vending machine, he heard muffled sobs resonating from the nearby supply closet. Rayhan turned his attention from the vending machine and questioned whether he should investigate or not. The sounds only started getting louder and he took that as a definite yes. Although his steps were quiet, he felt as if he were dealing with a vulnerable cat. He didn't want to scare it away.
'Is there anyone in there?' He cleared his voice and tapped onto the hard wooden door. The sounds suddenly stopped.
'Maybe I've gone crazy but something's telling me there's definitely someone in there.' He heard shuffling and an object being thrown to the floor.
'Don't come in please.' A small muffled voice, hardly recognisable spoke up.
The ends of his mouth twisted into a small smile before he sat on the floor with his back leaning against the door. He wanted to forget about every bad thing that seemed to happen one after the other.
'What brings you to explore the wonders of a supply closet?' He mused. But to no surprise, there wasn't a sound or reply, just complete silence. He looked ahead, forgetting that anyone who might have heard him or walked past him must have thought he was a madman.
'Whatever it is, it isn't worth your tears,' His mind took him to an endless wave of memories. Events that seemed to invade his mind again and again like an obedient replay button. It was as if he was no longer conversing to that mysterious person, if it was even in there or not.
'Imagine, you're stuck in a tunnel, you have no way out. Suddenly as you look up, you see a tiny hole of light. You stop and think you must be dreaming. But it's there alright.' He glanced towards the ceiling and closed his eyes. 'You then start to think about how to get up there. You notice as you look around, the light has given you enough to see what's beneath your feet, a rope,' He breathed evenly and gave out a small chuckle. 'Take that rope, it'll help you get out.'
He leaned his head against the door, still unsure whether he was dreaming of a sound coming from inside. Maybe he was just mad. Yes, definitely mad. He stood up abruptly, dusted off his pants and looked behind him. Letting out a small smile, he walked away.
It took a few moments for Hayat to gather up courage and confront the person who stopped her tears. The man who spoke such beautiful words. She adjusted her abaya and hijab, with a single breath she opened the door.
There was no one.
Not a single person.
She was so sure, there was a man out here just a few moments ago. She shook her head, came out of the closet and walked up a bit to the hallway. How could she thank someone she hadn't even met? How was she supposed to know who he was? He soothed her with his voice that spoke pure meaning and wisdom. It was as if he was speaking from experience.
It shocked her to think that there were still people out there who thought the way she did. Her mind was lost in deep thought until her eyes hooked onto a lone Pepsi can waiting in the open compartment of the vending machine. She glanced over her shoulder before walking over to the machine and reluctantly picked it up.
He was not a dream.
He was right here.
YOU ARE READING
Last Sacrifice | #Wattys2018
Romance'I can't stop.' His voice was husky and his breath, ragged. He backed her up against the wall, the warmth of his breath penetrating her ears and his lips lightly brushing against the soft skin of her earlobe. She closed her eyes, sucking in her bo...
