Secretly Married to my Professor

13| When Zahrah Knows Benjamin

Zahrah's POV

The older woman seemed now to stand beside what I assume is her son, "You are our way into those painters' houses!"

I was startled as she mentioned painters. To anyone else, painters are an artist who paints pictures. To me, a painter draws with blood on a blank canvas like the bodies of children.

That sick definition has been on my mind for twelve years. The wickedest smile crossed my face, my eyes crinkling. my smile widened, "Guide the way!"

Fear seemed to capture the expression of the man in front of me who I didn't care if what he said was the truth or if he didn't know any of it. I needed someone to finally tell me to go and face my fear and get it over with. The same devilish smile that drew on three people's faces as they squashed the head of one of my classmates and used the blood to draw on my bare body as the plaster I was covered in seemed to break as my eyes wanted to shut put it didn't let it.

"See, and you said she would freak out and reject the proposal." The older woman smiled proudly, even though her eyes seem hollow from inside, just like mine; her smile says she was happy, but I knew she was broken.

"I thought she would be sane!" He protested. "But you are right; she is damaged like us!"

Ordinary people would take this as an offense, but I was happy. My father's lessons wouldn't waste; I will find uncle Hussain, I will find those three. I will find them.

His green eyes darkened as I followed. The older woman who seemed to call herself Coco tangled her arms into mine. The short, black-haired, hazel-eyed woman didn't seem to hold the face of him and me. On the contrary, she was thrilled and so motivated.

And Baba considered me weird? Wait till he meets her!

Florentino, Chance, whatever his name was, didn't look anything like her, so I wondered if he was her son? "Do you have the first clue to who my kidnappers are?" I asked as the muscular man in front of us stopped in his tracks.

He seemed gloomy all of a sudden, "We have been searching for five years; the closest we have come to find them is finding you."

"So what house are we entering?" I asked as I stopped from following those lunatics.

"I am sure our neighbor is one of them!" The lively Coco rushed to answer.

The professor and I both frown, mirroring each other's expression, and I assure myself there must be some mistake.

Crap.

Was I fooled again by a Psychosis patient? I reminded myself, he was a professor. He has a degree of some sort, doesn't he?

"You are a professor, aren't you?"

The sheepish smile he gives me answers my question, "Well, I am a 25-year old wrestler."

"I knew it!" I grinned to myself for knowing he couldn't possibly look that athletic, foolish, rushed, drugged, man-whore, and become a professor. Still, the real reason I seem to find him unequipped was his limited vocabulary, which reminded me of myself.