Hushed Confessions | ✔

{18} Strength

Sajdaa Taha

Hamza squeezed my hands tighter as we heard another gunshot. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the fall of a dead body. The glass cracked, making an eerie noise that brought goosebumps up my arms. Mr. and Mrs. Hollen ran down the stairs, gasping at the sight before them.

Malik was silent. His heavy breathing echoed into the silence of the room. Metal sounds clicked against each other, yet I refused to open my eyes. 

I couldn't see Malik dead, I couldn't deal with another death on my hands, all of those victims blood was forever embedded into my mental state, and that was just something I wouldn't allow myself to forget. 

The victims were innocent people, they had dreams, they had families, they had friends, and they had love. I managed to take that all away from them because they knew me. That type of guilt stung, it made me feel like dirt, like a prisoner in these twisted games.

"Sajdaa," whispered Hamza. 

Slowly, I peeled my eyes open, preparing myself for the worst case scenarios. However, when my eyes adjusted, I saw none of what I imagined.

Malik's brown hair dripped small beads of sweat, glistening his forehead. His breathing was shallow, but the cold look in his hazel eyes never left. He glared at the man behind the window. 

Wait a minute, why was no one bleeding to death?

I dropped my gaze to the floor besides Malik's foot. A small cylinder like metal piece laid on the floor, smoke rising from it. It was the bullet. Bringing my gaze back up, I noticed Malik's police attire remained unscathed, only a small black smudge was present. He must have been wearing a bulletproof vest, but that didn't explain why the killer was still alive, unless...

"Holy crap," I said as I turned to the window with wide eyes. "How is he still standing?"

"Vest," muttered Hamza. 

The mysterious man moved his gun away from Malik and pointed it at me. I gulped. Under his hoodie, I could see his flashing white teeth, sneering at me. The cracked window made the man look even more dangerous like a villain straight out of a movie. 

"Drop the weapon down," said Malik, slowly as he took a step closer. "Drop it."

The man turned his head towards Malik, tilting it to the side. Malik's footsteps were loud against the wooden floor, his steps creaking. The man didn't move, he stayed frozen to his spot.

His hoodie made him blend in with the black canvas, he was just another object in the masterpiece, another danger that lurked beneath the shadows. Cold shivers crawled up my arms. 

"No one is going to get hurt, just drop the weapon," Malik insisted. His voice was surprisingly calm, even toned, firm. 

The man lowered his weapon, making me release a slight breath of relief. His gloved fingers tightened around the gun. The moon illuminated against the metal in his hands, proving a threat to us when he kept his finger pressed against the trigger, his stiff body preparing to shoot at the most sudden movement. 

Then, he ran. 

Malik started yelling commands into his radio, shouting at his men to corner the killer. In the blur of the moment, I felt unsafe. The killer could escape again, he was slippery, the night was his friend as he plotted his ways to kill me. I couldn't see his eyes, but I knew that man was ruthless. He would stop at nothing until he saw me dead. 

"You two will stay here," commanded Malik. "I'm putting this house on high security."

"What about my parents? Will they be safe at the hospital?" I asked, worried. This killer had me lose so much, I had to go through so much heartache because of one man. I wasn't ready to go through more.