The Anthem of the Rebels | ✓

[30] The dying light

Chapter Thirty

Time. It dragged ever so slowly, every second dissolving into helplessness. The hospital walls that had heard countless prayers now became a witness to another prayer, one recited over and over again, both, by the soundless lips and hearts of Zahid and Amal who sat in absolute silence, their souls heavy.

"Harris!"

A cry from the other end of the hallway alerted Zahid and he raised his head after what seemed like hours, dread settling in the pit of his stomach when he spotted the woman who rushed towards them.

He got to his feet, Amal standing up next to him. Zahid's head was hung low, and as the older woman came to a stop in front of him, he was unable to look up at her.

It seemed as if she was using every bit of her strength to contain herself, and when she spoke, her voice shook. "What happened?"

Zahid cursed himself. He cursed himself over and over again, feeling as if his lips were sealed and his heart was too heavy for him to handle. He wished then, that he were mute, and yet, he heard himself answer her.

"He was shot."

The heart-wrenching cry he heard chilled Zahid to the bones. His eyes squeezed shut, his fists balling by his sides. Harris' mother bent over, crying helplessly and a few gasps and cries from his two sisters were heard as they balanced their mother before she could fall over.

Then, she slapped him. Amal's eyes widened as the slap echoed in the waiting room. Amal made to step forward but Zahid grabbed her wrist.

He deserved this.

"I told him," she hissed, "I told Harris not to work with you. Defeat Shahid Raza? Stand up for the victims? At what cost; my son?"

Her words pierced through his heart. Zahid gulped, unable to raise his gaze till she had taken a seat at a distance, her cries filling in the room.

In the memory that later came to him as a blur, Zahid remembered the police coming over. They heard his statement, and when Zahid, again and again, claimed that it was Raza who had done it, the policeman who was investigating him grew tired.

He asked Zahid if he had seen the person who had shot Harris, and when he could give no answer to that, the policeman said that he would look into it.

Look into it. Zahid knew what that meant, and he wondered if this was what the police had said to every victim of Raza's.

Hours passed by and yet, they got no update on Harris' condition. Every now and then, Zahid would find himself retreating to the prayer room, his nafl prayers calming the storm that rose within him. He would pray endlessly, for Harris, and for his family, and the only prayer he uttered for himself was that of patience-