Hushed Confessions | ✔

{28} A Twist of Fate

Sajdaa Taha

I ignored the burning sting that pierced the muscles in my legs, forcing my legs to lift higher than the last time, running faster. My breaths came out in short pants as I tried my best to breathe properly. I really should have listened to my cross country couch freshman year, I distastefully thought.

It was a horrible idea to run during the night especially with a serial killer on the hunt for prey. He was searching for me, stabbed Malik, and hungry for blood. I was supposed to be the final masterpiece, the finishing touch, the last petal from a wilting rose that would fall into the palm of his hand, quenching his thirst.

The thought alone made shivers crawl down my spine. Nonetheless, I made sure to keep my phone in a safe spot on my body just in case. If anything were to happen to me while I searched for the USB, then Ridwan had to know my coordinates. I wasn't naive to the horrors of this dunya (world).

Allah warned Muslims against those who lied so clearly that it became their truth. Allah warned against those who were hypocrites not only to their beliefs but to other people as well. Allah warned Muslims against the evils that lurked beneath the world, knowing there were a small handful of people that refused to accept help and turned their back on spirituality.

I pitied such people.

Life was so much more than war and pain. The world had chewed me up multiple times in the past, but I was always spit back out because Allah knew I had a purpose and that I was worth living another day. All the helpless souls that fell victim to a monster had already completed their purpose in life, and I would carry on their legacy by defeating the man that stole their life from them.

The familiar tall building of the police department caught my eyes. From the strict square windows, a couple of bright lights illuminated from within the small offices. Catching my breath, I jogged up the steps, telling myself to remain as calm as possible.

The police department was already wary of me. There was no reason to make them even more terrified of a teenage Muslim girl.

* * * *

Officer Nathan's office was nothing like I imagined. He was such a perky, overly excited young man who came off as a flirt most times, but his office reflected none of the colors he'd once shown me. Unlike Malik's office, the room was smaller, more condensed with papers stacking on top of multiple folders.

I walked closer. A small candle was lit at the corner of his desk, dust swirling around the ignited flame. The white wax dripped down the shaft, pooling at the bottom. Near the candle was a trash can filled with crisp pieces of paper, corners burnt to the core. I examined the burned materials.

They were pictures. A lot of pictures.

Gazing around the room, Officer Nathan pinned pictures of each victim and the people within their family. The pictures on the wall weren't surprising; it was the burnt photos that seemed off. On the middle of his desk were multiple photos much like the burnt ones.

An image of a woman, smiling and pouting at the camera sat at the edge of his desk. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown with auburn colored hair. Her lips were painted a bright red, tempting the male species to be at her beck and call. I tilted my head at the photos. They were the same girl and it seemed as if Officer Nathan was angry.

Ripped pieces of photos scattered around his desk, creating the illusion of frustration when it seemed more like heartbreak. No man went through this much trouble over one woman as beautiful as her unless she was the keeper of his heart. Unless she was the one who held his key, giving him the reality he feared: heartbreak.