LOOK AT ME (Muslim Story)

He looked at me (47)

Earlier the next day, the whole family gathered around the living room, switching the tv on to the latest news.

It was my case, the judge and the whole crowd gathered around. It's basically where they announce the winners.

We found out that I actually won the case and apparently it was a close win. If Ahmed hadn't shown up and given more proof and more evidence, we would've lost. Also, they found some more dirt on Brandon, shit about his past and how he had a history of raping girls.

He's a sick man.

Although I won, I still didn't feel complete. I know I should feel grateful that the case went exactly as it was supposed to, but I just couldn't help thinking how I would react if me and Ahmed were still friends.

At the end of the day, shit always comes back to Ahmed.

He's literally what keeps me going when it came to the case. The fact that he testified for me, helped me win my case but isn't my friend in the end is painful, believe it or not. Ahmed has a huge effect in my life. Now he's gone.

The family realized I wasn't that happy. That yes, I was glad, but I wasn't happy. The only person who realized I wasn't myself was Fatima and she was also the only one who knew why.

I decided to step out, get a good deep breath in the outside world. I was fine before Ahmed came into my life and can be fine now that's Hes gone. Just go back to normal right? Yeah, that's the spirit.

Fuck.

No.

I walked around the entire neighbourhood, my hands in my pockets. While I thought I was just going t stay sticking around this area in a circle, it turns out, I found my way out and started walking in other directions.

Long story short, I ended up in front of my house.

All the lights were off. The windows were shut, and the door was, i don't know, unexpectedly dark. For a second I thought the house looked lifeless because there was nobody inside, because my dad probably left and went somewhere.

But as soon as I saw his car in the driveway, I froze.

He's home.

It's a little worrying the fact that he would be in s house that's completely dark and lifeless. My house looked haunted at this point. There's no way he's in there. Maybe he's in the garage?

I glanced at the garage. Closed.

I know me and my dad haven't actually properly spoken in the longest time, but it doesn't mean he isn't my business. He's my family, my real family. No matter how much he lies to me, he's always going to be someone in my life and hopefully that doesn't change.

I walked up the porch and raised my fist up to the door, a little afraid of knocking. I don't know, maybe he's expecting me to come on time. Maybe this is what he he wants.

I let my hand fall, he doesn't want me. He kicked me out.

I've never been one to be weak at soul. The only things that make me a weak person was my dad. I remember when he would take me out to the park, clean up my vomit when I hurled, brought me to the doctors, took care of me to the fullest.

How's can you not have a soft spot for someone like that?

I raised my hand up again to knock, my dad didn't raise no bitch.

I knocked a few times.

I stood there, my head hung low, waiting.

I tapped my foot a few times, waiting.