The Shades of Spring

Damaged Puppets

Her cries hadn't prepared him for what he beheld in the border of the library owned land.
Sidra, Ayaan and John rolled over each other, locked in combat. In the powerful beam of his flashlight, he saw John grab Sidra by the neck and drive her face into the ground. Her face instantly became a spray of red. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, screaming things he never remembered afterward. Ayaan was unrecognisable; his face looming over John's back to defend her would haunt her to her deathbed.
By the time he reached them, he caught sight of Hafsa and scrambled first to pull her out of harm's way. He had no idea who jumped into the entangle to pull them three apart, but looking at the darkly stained concrete, he was certain they were too late.

All three of them were a bloody mess. When the staff, who weren't busy calling 911, laid Ayaan out on the ground, his eyes had rolled back in his sockets and his beige shirt was a blossom of red stains. Dry blood painted his neck maroon, while a continuous rivulet trickled down his swollen nose bent at the bridge. Sidra was relatively better off- conscious, but her jaw was swollen and her right eyebrow carried an ugly purple gash above it. Her right arm hung limp by her side and she tried in vain to hold all her sore spots with her good hand. Suddenly, Ayaan shot up and retched on the man attending to him who sprang away in alarm.

The wail of ambulance sirens alerted them to the rush in of paramedics escorted by Peter himself. Preliminary tests revealed Hafsa was knocked out but had a pulse. Further examinations were to be carried out in the hospital. A second ambulance tore through the traffic, passing Jameel who quickly steered out of its path.
Ayaan and John, with Kevin to accompany them, were taken away in it, while a nervous, crying Musa drove Sidra to the hospital after them.
In the second ambulance, Ayaan lost conscious after putting up a good fight to stay awake for Kevin's sake.
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After first aid, Sidra was taken away to the police precinct amid loud protests from her friends who went as far as to physically attempt stopping the police. But as power usually does, the police triumphed in escorting away a scared, young woman who for God's sake couldn't recall fine details.
Even years later she never did succeed in putting in order the events of the fateful day. Her memory relevent to the matter was sloshed like a viscous fluid and the details she wanted swam to her fingertips and then disappeared into the murky haze.
As best she could between stuttering and sobbing and minimal physical movement, she gave her official statement on the matter.
It'll come back to you, a lady officer promised her, you'll remember it all right. Go home now.

As soon as she stepped out of the interrogation room, she collapsed in her father's waiting arms as her mother and brother clung to them. From there, for her sake, they drove back to the hospital.
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At the forefront of those awaiting news, Musa stood flanked by Kevin and Josh who practically supported the boy's leaden weight. His tears wouldn't stop.
The small crowd parted when Sidra exited the elevator on the far corner and limped her way to Musa. The man in question, immediately darted forward to pull a chair for her. She refused the chair; instead both of them cried looking at eachother.
In one of the rooms, Hafsa lay unconscious still with a gynecologist report pending in her name. In another room, Sidra hoped John's corpse was laid on a bare bed. The third room scared her the most; as per the waiting room crowd, Ayaan's condition was largely undisclosed except his chances of survival were looking too bleak.

If his heart wasn't already torn apart by his overwhelming worry for his beloved and the man who put his life on the line to save her, it was dangerously close to exploding at the sight of a ravaged, battered Sidra who looked nothing like the smartly dressed girl he greeted that afternoon.
Her jaw was hastily bandaged to allow the police to take her away, but it needed stitches now and probably months to heal. Her right arm was useless in the cast that slung across her chest and she still limped despite support from her father. The police persistence on having her rounded for questioning disgusted him infinitely. No one with a heart would ever dream of marching away an already traumatised victim who barely held herself together both physically and mentally.

It was nearing one in the morning when Sidra was released from the Emergency Room and eventually persuaded to leave the premises upon promise of instant updates. Hafsa's family arrived hours ago with Musa's in tow, now the soon-to-be-in-laws bonded over a shared grief. Ayaan was the only one without any family around, so Jameel decided to become temporary guardian till his parents arrived.
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A girl literally flew in through the hospital doors at nine the next morning, luggage and all, exchanging few words with a receptionist before all but sprinting away in search of a certain room.
Upon reaching the desired floor, the first thing she noticed was a man hunched over and sobbing while another man sat by him whispering something.
Sara Mas'ud dropped on her knees next to her father.
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Her heart was heavy with fear as her eyes remained glued to the paper in her hand. The gynecologist report. She was untouched.

Hafsa did not remember much about yesterday, but she knew she was knocked out while on her way from the backroom where she went to collect a receipt for another librarian. Until she woke up in the hospital, she didn't even know who it was that knocked her out. But one deeprooted fear prevented her from ever falling asleep after she woke up.
The report she had in her hand was her only solid evidence of her untainted modesty and she refused to let go of it. In her present state of mind, she was afraid she was reading it wrong. She was paranoid if she took her eyes away for a second, the result would change.
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Sara envied the quick and full recovery Hafsa Mahdi was rumoured to be making. She didn't know from where the jealousy stemmed, but...how could they? How could those families rejoice when the literal reason their daughter was alive was fighting for his life? Only that girl's fiancé seemed to share her sentiment. And for that, she hated him even more. Everybody spoke so highly of him for his excellent character and sympathy for the man in a room next to his fiancée, like, did they forget who the real hero was? It was her brother. It was Ayaan. He's the hero. And his heroism did nothing to help him.

She had briefly spoken to his doctors and was allowed to see him once, and that sight alone terrified her.
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Two days later

Rain poured down in sheets so thick, the world was blanketed in a heavy liquid coat. The skies were drab and gray and frighteningly dark.
Strangers walked about, muttering things that did not make sense to her. The drip drip dripping of water drops jabbed her exposed skin.

She felt none of that pain or the cold the others seemed to be complaining about. All she felt was blunt emptiness, a huge grief, an inexplicable sadness that numbed her to every feeling on full the spectrum of senses. Her eyes were glued to the pale face that rested calmly under the onslaught from the heavens.

She had many questions. Why didn't they clean his face? Why was the bed out in the open? Where were they? What was going on?

When sturdy hands lifted the ends of the bed with him on it, it was then she moved. With an animalistic howl, she sprang on the men, wrestling his body from their hands; kicking and screaming and pulling him away. Then together him and Sidra splashed into the freshly dug grave wherein the water rose steadily and filled her lungs.

She woke up screaming.