Morphine

twenty three : hanging on

I decide walking is my best option. By the time I reach the house at the address Freya gave me it's dusk and the sky is getting darker every minute. I stand behind a car, pretending to look at my phone -- which I don't bother switching on -- and quietly observe the street.

It's a typical residential street. The houses appear to belong to the rich and the poor equally. Not too extravagant but not too simple either. Quiet and deserted. The whole street is subdued and seems as if it's saying, with a nonchalant wave, 'don't bother me'. The sort of place where no one would look at anything twice.

Perfect place to hide a criminal; in plain sight.

If Dad knew that I was aware of where he was keeping Zahid, he would have moved him to another location. I doubt anyone has bothered to talk to Freya lately, so I have a tiny advantage. The house in question, is quite mediocre. It has a backyard and a small drive way. It looks old and worn out. Despite the warm atmosphere, the house exudes coldness and looks uninviting. There are no vehicles nearby. I wonder whose house it is.

While entering the property, I pretend like I own it. Anybody could be watching me from anywhere. Despite my several layers of clothing and the hood of my pullover, I still feel exposed and vulnerable. If only I had a few weapons.

I quietly walk around the house to the back in the hope that I'll be able to break in with little more freedom than I would through the front door. Lock picking is not something I'm good at right now. With a vague idea of how to do it, I approach the door.

The door has a glass window. Relief floods through me. I don't have to pick anything. After I shatter the glass, I stand there for a moment, waiting to see if any of the neighbours will come out of their houses to see where the noise came from. Nobody bothers. Smiling a little, I put my hand through and twist the knob from inside. The door opens soundlessly as I slip in with another look at the surrounding buildings.

I want to get this done efficiently and quickly. I don't want to waste time searching for Zahid; I'd rather use that to speak with him. He might not even be here for all I know. Freya could have easily lied to me. But I don't let myself think about that. The house looks abandoned; empty packets of food lying around, dust on the furniture. It hasn't been used in a while. Keeping my footsteps light I go check the upper rooms before searching for a basement. There's only one floor. I quietly open the first door on the landing. The master bedroom. It looks empty and feels cold. The silence all over is starting to creep up on me. It shouldn't be so quiet.

Once upon a time, silence used to be my companion. I continue pretending like it still is.

The next two rooms yield nothing. Just as bare and lifeless like the rest of the house. The last room has an attached bathroom. I'm slightly afraid of walking into this room, but I shove down the fear. This room is not as cold. The unmade bed and clothes strewn across the bedside table assures me. Someone has been here recently. I don't know if it's paranoia or caution that makes me check the closets and under the bed. Nothing.

My heart hammering like a drum in a hard rock concert, I open the door to the bathroom. If Zahid is here, why is it left unprotected? There were news reports of the police having captured Zahid, so where is everybody? Why is he not in police custody? What game is my father playing?

I'm not sure if I want to know.

The bathroom is dark and smells like sweat and urine. I make out a dark silhouette behind the translucent shower curtains. I try to calm myself. What am I doing? He might kill me. My whole body goes rigid. But I still make myself go towards him. I hang onto the look in his eyes that day and the implication behind his words when he drove a knife through me.