Chapter 6

4.2K 332 50
                                    

I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.

Nelson Mandela

-------

I look up at Shawn trying to hold back my tears. "Can we please have this conversation later? He halts in his movement and looks at me with disbelief. "Scold me, hit me or do whatever you feel like to teach me a lesson but right now please get Adam upstairs. I don't trust him with them." I beg him and I start to sob.

His eyes widens while realization dawns upon him. While running his hands through his head he stomps his foot and swears. "This is all your fault." He almost run back downstairs after his words slaps me.

Really, this is all my fault? "It is all your fault." I say out loud and my words echo in my ears. "Yes, it is your fault Shawn." I say this time and walk over to the wide open door.

I let myself fall beside the doorframe and wait for Adam. My head rests on the doorframe and I sit there feeling a void. I am so lonely. After five minutes waiting, which seem like an eternity, I stand up realizing that they won't be coming up anytime soon.

They will probably continue with their so called Madrasa and I frown upon the thought. The innocent children downstairs are not being taught about Islam they're being taught about terrorism. How to justify it and how to commit it when there's no way of justifying terrorism.

I close the door and try to divert my attention. I just want to keep myself indulged in something to forget that I am staying with a terrorist. My eyes lands on the TV at the glass bench on the right corner of the room. I take the remote next to it and place myself on the edge of the bed.

Numb I turn it on and flinch at the loud sound that my heart almost jump out of my chest. Crap! I fiddle with the remote and mute the sound and breathe heavily. I wait there with cold sweat on my palms for the terrorists to run upstairs. Luckily no one comes and I sigh in relief closing my eyes. l slowly start to flip between the channels to find something interesting. They only have boring channels to begin with.

When my eyes halt on a familiar figure, I stop pushing the button and gasp emotionally. It is the news showing my parents, my mom is crying fiercely and my right hand flies to my heart as if it is going to break any second. I can't stand my mothers tears and seeing her cry violently makes me fumble for breath while my eyes gets soaked. My dad tries to comfort her.

In a matter of seconds I start to cry. "Mom." I whisper and walk to the TV to caress her on the screen.

The news focuses on a video of the terrorist attack where I am held by my neck by a masked man and his gun is pressed towards my temple. Well, guess who that gentleman is? By actually seeing the event on the TV my body shivers, he was so brutal and it all looks like taken out of a movie.

At the same time I know that what happened or is going to happen to me is nothing compared to what's happening around the world. Unnecessary wars are brutally killing innocent human beings. Even children are dying horrifying deaths and it is as if there's no rules in war.

A picture of me is shown with the text missing and I can't help but chuckle between my cries. They choose the profile picture from my facebook where I have a forefinger on my chin with a mischievous smile. I have green lenses on with red lips and a equally red sweater. The funny thing is that I used to joke saying that if I ever go missing use this one, I look best in it. How obvious I was back then.

They show another picture of me with lesser make up and without my lenses showing my almond shaped brown eyes. I chuckle between my sobs and they show my parents again which stings my heart. My dad starts to speak and I turn up the volume as minimum as I can.

Defining a Terrorist #Wattys2016 (Editing)Where stories live. Discover now