"What happened?" I demanded, immediately sensing something wrong.
"Get in the car," He ordered, unable to put the phone back on the reciever properly.
"Why?" I inclined, feeling a pit of unease build up in my stomach.
"Maydah please," He urged, hurriedly putting on his coat and gloves.
We got into the car, the inky black crows circling the afternoon sky which wasslowly being invaded by heavy stormy grey clouds. I wanted to ask where we were going, I wanted to know what was happening, but at the same time, I was dreading the answer. 'Ignorance is bliss' I had once heard, but now with evey goring second, my desperation was becoming stronger. What ever the news was it couldn't be good. But just how bad could it be? I didn't want to think about it, but every time I pushed the thought out of my head, in marched back in, ten times stronger. I wasn't paying attention to where we were heading, so when the car came to a halt, every muscle in my body tensed, as I slowly lifted up my head, reading that incomprehensive word. 'Hospital'.
"What are we doing here?" I wanted to ask, but my mouth would open, and I was about to find out anyways.
"We're here to see Mr Ahmad," Mazin told the receptionist. All the noise around me drowned out, even the color seemed to fade from my eyes. What happened Dad?
We walked down the never ending corridor, the walls painted a disgusting musty yelloy and the floor tiled with polished grey. I was focusing on anything to get my thoughts away from the worst. Time seemed to stretch. Walking down that corridor could have taken a hundred years or maybe ten seconds. We reached the door. Number 113. Mazin reached for the silver doorknob and turned it, the door opend.
All of my worst fears were alive there and then! I gasped, or at least I think I did.
"Let this just be a nightmare," I pleaded.
My dad was on the hospital bed, The life support was connected to him and it was beeping as the squigly lines on it moved about, I ran over to my dad's side, tears streaming down my cheeks, my head spinning and my vision all red, my legs were shaking so much I could barely stand. There was a bandage soaked in blood on the left side of his chest, his eyes closed, he looked so solitary.
"Dad," I whispered taking his hand, hoping it could be a prank.
Suddenly a swarm of docters and nurses burst into the room, they took his bed, one of the nurses pulled me away from him.
"Hey!"
"We need to operate on him honey, stitch up the wound, he'll be fine. We're hoping for the best," She told me.
The whole went empty. Silent. I looked at Mazin through watery eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Journal of a Teenage Muslim.
Teen FictionMaydah Ahmad was never a normal girl. Ever since she was a young girl, it was clear to tell she was made for something bigger, something better.. But than her mother died, leaving Maydah and her father to cope on their own. After that her life was n...
