Ashia A. Abdulatiph
“The dog is flying.” Our GEC104 professor was in the middle of talking about the difference between humanities and science. I looked outside and drowned out her droning voice. The cloud looked like it was about to let down a strong rainfall.
The ant wandering on my desk died. I killed it.
Ping.
A text came through. The sharp sound disturbed the still and dull atmosphere. Reverberating throughout the classroom and echoing inside my head. My nerves flared out, my anxiety soared, the sound of death signaling another funeral. I took a deep breath and reached towards my phone, turning it on.
Come home. The message said.
Come die. I thought. I want to puke. Puke, a word commonly mis-reported to be invented by Shakespeare. Deafening. Assassination. Bedazzling. Bedazzling light. Bedazzling beauty. Bedazzling life.
The shuffling of feet signaled the end of the class, pulling me out of my reverie. Having calmed down a little, I quickly arranged my things and left the room with my classmates. Others will be going to their next class, others will eat in some restaurant in comcent., and I will be walking home. Towards death.
Death. A funeral. How fast a life passes on. All used up. How easy it is to take a life. Life and Death. How many people die each day? Around 150,000 people. There is no cure to this, just enjoy the interval. The big secret. The miracle. We will all die one day, so let go and live. Around 300,000 babies are born every day. That’s twice more….
Without realizing it, I have reached home with my feet guiding me through the familiar path. The house loomed over me, offering no solace from these scattered thoughts. I stood at the front of the door for a while. I watched as a yellow butterfly took flight and fly away. I felt the start of the rainfall as a rain drop fell on my skin. I reached for the doorknob, took a deep breath then opened the door.
“Assalamuaikom.” I said as I entered the house. It was dark inside, no light was turned on. Nothing was replaced or even moved here and yet everything felt so different. The air, it’s the air. A great absence can be felt, like a black hole sucking the light from its surrounding. My father had died. Two month ago, a lifetime ago.
A man was in the living room. There was no one in the house except for him. My sister is still in school and my mother is drowning herself with work. He was sitting in the dark, wearing nothing but black. The only light source coming from the slightly opened window casts shadows around him, making him look grim. A grim reaper out on a mission.
“Bapa Ito.”
“Get ready. We should finish this as fast as possible. It’s better that way.”
“Okay.” I started to walk away when he called out my name.
“Rahim.”
I stopped and looked back. He was walking towards me. In the dim living room, I watched his frail and weak frame, a stark contrast against his usual jovial and jolly energy. He stood before me, placing my trembling hand in between his hands.
On the third day of my father’s funeral, Bapa Ito pulled me away. He grasped my shoulder. His voice full of venom. His eyes full of anger. “Rahim, do you understand why your father is gone? They killed him, those bastards.”
That was the first time I felt scared of Bapa Ito. With his bloodshot eyes, his booming voice, and the force of his grip on my shoulder, he was like a mad man.
“An ambush. They shot at him, three men. While he was on his way home, they shot at him, at his head. He laid there on the pavement.”
Noticing that I was beginning to feel scared, he calmed down. He caressed my cheeks then whispered, “Avenge your father. For your mother, for your family, for your honor, for the clan. For everyone that he and you love. Kill them. That is your job as his son. For your maratabat.”
“It’ll all be fine.” Bapa Ito said, bringing me back to the present.
“I am scared, bapa.”
“Stop thinking for now. Empty you’re head. Promise me that.”
I nodded. He released my hand then urged me to move along.
I went up to my room, then closed the door behind me. I am scared but I know it is something I must do. Something I am expected to do.
I looked at the clothes I have prepared earlier. Much like the clothes bapa Ito is wearing, it was all in black. I quickly changed and then went to my cabinet. I opened the drawer to get the gun. .45 caliber. The metal cold to the touch. I safely put it inside my waistband then walked downstairs, going back to the living room.
Bapa Ito noticed me and said, “Oh, you’re ready. I’ll start the motorcycle.”
It had started to rain heavily when we got out of the house. The sound of the water dropping on the metal roofs and the sound of thunder from lightning made things a little hard to hear. The roar of the motorcycle’s engine added to the cacophony of sounds.
Bapa Ito handed me a helmet. “Here. Put this over your head. It will cover your face.”
I put the helmet on then sat at the back. Bapa Ito also wore a helmet. As soon as we have settled, we were on the way. Towards the target.
“That’s him in the orange jacket. I’ll stop the motor when we are near him then you shoot. Understand?”
I nodded, even though he can’t see me.
I took out the gun from my waistband. I held it in my right hand – the pointy finger on the trigger, my thumb on one side of the handle while my pinky, middle, and ring finger on the other. I put my other hand below the barrel to provide support.
The motor stopped.
I raised my arms.
Then aimed.
At the guy in the orange jacket. At his head.
Then I pulled the trigger. Felt the gun’s mechanism release a bullet hunting its target.
Bang! Thud!
The sounds vibrated in my ear. Traveling throughout my whole body. Finding its way into my head. Imprinting itself into my memory.
And we were speeding along. The roar of the engine and the downfall of rain drowning out the screams. I barely noticed these sounds. Barely felt the coldness and my clothes sticking to my body. In my head, there was only the cold metal in my right hand, my heart thudding against my chest, and that sound inside my head repeating again and again.
Bang! Thud !Bang! Thud! Bang! Thud! Bang! Thud !Bang! Thud! Bang! Thud! Bang! Thud !Bang! Thud! Bang!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!
Ping.
When I became aware of my surrounding, I find myself inside my room.
It’s that sound again. I feel fear slowly creeping in. Did he also have a son? Did he even have a wife? He looked young. Will I also be killed? Will I be killed by his son? His father? His cousin? When I die, who will kill for me? Bapa Ito? Will it continue? This cycle of death?
I buried myself into my bed. I started crying and gasping as tears forcefully cascades down my face. In my blurry vision, I saw a moth resting on the corner of the room.
The target. I do not even know his name. I did not want to know who he is.
According to a statistic, one hundred fifty thousand people die every day. Today, one of them died by my hand.