Hushed Confessions | ✔

{3} Bloody Death

Sajdaa Taha

The air was cold as I walked home. People were laughing on the streets as the sun began to set. Faces had wide smiles, couples stole kisses with each other behind trees.

Children were running. It was as if their imaginative worlds were real. The beautiful hues of orange and red merged together in the sky. A gentle breeze blew against my hijab. I sighed.

The world was still perfect even though I lost my world. He was dead. I kept thinking about his lifeless body from the Janazah (funeral). Only family members could see the deceased before burial. Thoughts of my uncle suppressed my mind, rendering me helpless of clear thought.

He had looked so peaceful. It was as if he were just in deep slumber. His face lacked color, which was the only thing that told me that he wasn't alive anymore. I remember his wife, my aunt, sobbing over her deceased beloved. I know they didn't have the perfect marriage, but she still cared for him.

What would happen to his children? His wife was so young. She wouldn't stay a widow. Not too many Bengali men would accept two kids from a different man. It was the culture. The mother left her kids with their father's family. Then the mother would get married. I know she said she wouldn't, but what if she did?

I turned the corner of the street to find the masjid.

Allahu Akbar Allahu Akbar.

Crap! They're about to start. I sprinted the rest of the way to catch the Maghrib (sunset) prayer.

* * * *

"Hey! Sajdaa!" I heard a feminine voice call.

I turned around to see my friend, Alisha. "Hey," I grinned.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit you. I got caught up with my part time job," she quickly, rushed out. "Oh my gosh, Sajdaa. I'm so sorry for what happened. I'm still in shock myself."

I awkwardly, scratched the back of my neck. "It's no big deal."

Alisha's eyes softened, "Tell me how you honestly feel. Please."

The desperation in her eyes made me feel bad. Clearly, Alisha was beating herself over not comforting me the last couple of days. "You want an honest answer?" I sighed.

She nodded.

"I feel like utter crap. It feels like my heart was ripped into pieces. I don't even know how to function anymore. It kills me watching my family suffer like this," I said as I choked back my sobs. "I had never seen my father cry till the day my uncle died."

"Oh, sweetheart," she said as she wrapped her arms around me. I laid my head on her shoulder as I let out all my fear and frustration from the last few days. "It'll be okay, In Shaa Allah (if God wills it). Allah will help you, Sajdaa."

"I k-know Allah didn't do this to hurt m-me," I said, shakily. "But my heart still pains me. I wake up in the middle of the night trying to make sense of everything. It's just so hard," I cried.

"I know, I know. Shh, it's okay," she comforted me softly as she stroked my hijab.

As my head rested on her shoulder I saw a lumped figure across the street. Is that a body? I quickly pulled away from Alisha and rubbed my eyes.

Alisha gave me a confused look. "What's wrong?"

I pointed across the street, "Don't you see that figure over there?"

Alisha's eyes followed the movement of my fingers. "That can't be," she gasped.

I shook my head. "It can't be a body."