Hushed Confessions | ✔

{30} A Veil in Black

Sajdaa Taha

Darkness.

Some people feared it while others cherished the comfort it provided. It was dangerously alluring to many whether they were weak or strong, darkness was universal. I never was afraid of the dark. I never feared the demons that lurked within because I didn't believe demons were real.

The demon that haunted me brought me to this wretched place.

As I blinked, darkness engulfed me, taking me in its arms and nurturing me. Long arms of silence wrapped around my body. Darkness squeezed memories out of me as I replayed the previous events, strangling my existence and forcing me to remember. Shivering, I closed my eyes again, wishing that it was a nightmare, that I'd wake up and all this would be forgotten.

However, cruelty in life was more real than anything I'd ever known. My eyelashes fluttered, drinking in my surroundings.

The room was sketched in charcoal, the darkness touching the harsh edges and metal glinting even when covered by a veil of black. My eyes adjusted to limited visibility, scanning the area and tensing as I saw the multiple drawers of bloodied weapons, sitting idly.

Where am I?

The constant pounding in my head got worse, dulling my mind from thinking straight. I felt a wave of nausea rise up my throat, my stomach churning as I gazed at the blood splatters on the wall. This is where the victims were slaughtered, I thought, their fate was sealed here.

I swallowed the bile down, refusing to show weakness, refusing to lose myself over the past. Moving my arms, I realized that my body became immobile. The rough rope burned against my wrist as I fidgeted to get out. My legs were strapped to the chair, leather belts securing my position, pressing hard against me. For some reason, the world seemed to get out of focus, blurring my vision into a chaotic haze.

Headaches were no walk in the park.

Small squeaks echoed into the silence, making the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. Rats, I cringed. The filthy rodents seemed to be laughing at my predicament. Their small feet ran to the nearest trash, a pile of flesh in a corner. Once again, disgust welled inside me.

Right when I thought I was going to succumb to the darkness again, heavy footsteps trudged against the pavement, each step promising a terror, each step promoting the killer's strength, each step weighing heavily on my shoulders.

I tried to ignore the rapid beat of my heart, willing myself to calm down. Humans were not to be feared, for they had no power as great as Allah. Nothing in this world happened without the permission of Allah, so whatever this monster had in store for me was nothing to fear.

Even if he promised me death.

Now, that's definitely positive thinking.

A tall, shadowy figure approached me, his boots clinking against my chair as he passed. The man wore a mask, the ones that surgeons wore before operating on people. I squinted my eyes. His hoodie was on just like all our other encounters.

Finally, he stopped walking, standing right in front of me, his height towering my slumped figure. He didn't say a word, nor did he move. He stood still as a statue. It made me really uncomfortable. The least my kidnapper could do is talk instead of slicing me with his deadly silence.

Suddenly, he erupted with a series of chuckles, much to my confusion. Lord, even his laughter makes me want to stab him.

I tilted my head, wondering why he was laughing. His white teeth glinted, reminding me of the night Malik and the killer held each other at gunpoint. The memory felt icy in my mind, and I froze at the sheer remembrance.