LOOK AT ME (Muslim Story)

He Looked At Me (50)

Hey guys...

I recently got a very kind private message telling me that I'm (in a way) dissing Christianity. I just wanted to say something to make it clear. My intentions were NEVER to offend anyone. I feel like the parts that made Christianity sound so illegitimate was the part when Emerald was talking about how only Allah responded and God didn't. So I Im extremely sorry to those I've offended. Please feel free to message me about your concerns. I want everyone to be able to read this book and not feel bad about their religion. I want everyone to read not hate me because I said something I probably shouldn't have. I would hate it if someone was writing something rude or bad about Islam. So once again, PLEASE PLEASE text me for your concerns just like this amazing person did. It's an honour to be able to speak to you guys about this shit. Thank you for reading this book anyways. I love you all, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU. From head to toe, from moon and back and from THE HORIZON TO THE SEVEN SKIES I ADORE YOU ALL.
Now enjoy this new chapter :)
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So my dad was right. I did still have Ahmed.

I wore that bracelet everywhere. I walked at school with it, wore it when I slept, wore while I showered. I wore it everywhere, you name it. It's just a friendly reminder to me that Ahmed is still here. Still here with me.

It's been a few weeks since my dad's murder. The funeral went fine. The only people who attended was me, Ahmed, Fatima's family, Colton and a few of my dad's co-workers.

When school restarted, everyone would look at me. It was like the day I got raped, everyone looked at me with sorry eyes. I barely paid any attention to it because I wasn't over the situation myself. That night when Fred sliced my dad's throat, still haunts me till this day. I dream about it sometimes. I would wake up in my bed, sweating like crazy. Sometimes I'm forced to take a shower from how bad I would sweat during the night. I felt traumatized that night.

Police aren't even done questioning me, I don't even know why. They already found Fred and arrested him but lately, they've been asking me questions about Brandon. I don't understand why, but they would constantly come to me and ask me about Brandon, how his friends and I met and all these weird stuff.

I was confident that Brandon was totally out of my life now and that's all the reassurance that I'll ever need. I'm glad, to be honest. One nightmare is gotten over with. But I still have the one about my dad.

Sometimes I have dreams about my killing him. Killing Fred. Sometimes I just feel like going to throw cliff where all those spoiled rich white kids live, so I can hit him with a baseball bat continuously over the head until he knocks out. Then grab a knife and slice his throat the same way he did to my dad.

The first day of our return to school, someone signed my locker saying RIP MR. GREEN, in bold and all caps bubble letters. I wasn't mad about that vandalism, actually I was a little bit happy because then I'll be reminded of my father every time I go to school.

I've also moved into this new foster home with s bunch of kids. The day I moved in, you won't believe who I saw.

I remember bringing my luggages in, making myself at home. The idea of living with a bunch of strangers was insane. But for some reason I felt like I belonged here because everyone here has one thing in common.

They have no parents.

I met the lady who runs this place. Her name was Ms. Calivara. I mean her name sounds like a friendly lady but I assure you, she's the complete opposite. I don't know why she volunteered to run this place because from the looks of it, she doesn't seem to like kids one bit.

Maybe that's why she's single.

It was when I walked upstairs hat I bumped into a familiar 4 foot tall nerd geeky kid with a photography camera and thick round framed glasses. He fell when we collided and he quickly got back up, as soon as he hit the ground. He dusted his overalls before looking up to apologize.