Scarred For Life

Chapter 81

*

Afrah didn't know she was capable of doing it until she'd done it. Spontaneous action was never her area of expertise, knowing fully well that she was more of a reactive person than a proactive one. But the sight of Fahad falling to the floor jolted her to action. It was like a spark had awakened in her, grinding the gears in her brain.

She began by lunging for the gun.

Yusuf wasn't expecting her to move. Neither did he hear her move, since the carpet muffled her footsteps. He was still pointing the gun at Fahad's twitching corpse when Afrah's hands suddenly wrapped around the gun and yanked it out of his hands. He staggered back, bewildered by her action.

And then she brought the gun to his chest, looking him dead in the eye.

Time seemed to freeze in that moment. Neither he nor she dared to move. Between them was their hateful glare, separated by the barrel of the gun. His breathing was calm, while hers was irregular, coming in short bursts. In that moment, their roles were reversed from the way they'd once been. No matter how hard Yusuf sought to hide it, Afrah saw the panic in his eyes. For in that moment, just that one moment, she was the predator and he was the prey.

"Are you going to shoot me?" he asked, keeping his voice level and measured.

"What's to stop me from doing just that?" she asked, flexing her fingers around the weapon. For some reason, it felt like the gun was becoming heavier and heavier by the second.

"You think it's easy, don't you?" he said, cocking his head. "You think it's so easy to pull the trigger and take a life. If it were, a lot more people would be murderers in the world. Taking a life is not so easy, Afrah. No matter how much you hate the person, your conscience will always hold you back. If you don't believe me, then go ahead. Pull the trigger."

He turned to face her completely, bringing the gun to rest right in front of his heart. Only a few inches separated him from it, but Yusuf never flinched. Afrah saw it in his eyes; he didn't care if she shot him.

But she couldn't do it. Killing him would be a grievous sin. Regardless of all he had done, Afrah couldn't live with his blood on her hands. She looked at his face, and saw nothing but the lonely old man he'd always been.

"I used to be afraid of you," she said slowly. Her voice sounded distant, as though someone else was saying the words while she was merely conveying them.

Yusuf cocked his head and smiled. "Is that so?" he said, chuckling.

"I lived in fear of you my entire life," she said, her hold on the gun never wavering. "I would be so terrified every time I saw your face. Even a picture was enough to send me into a cowering state. I would cry myself to sleep whenever I remembered what you did. I hated myself for not being able to say it. And I hated myself even more for letting you do it to me. I always wondered why you did it. Were you so heartless that you never considered the little girl whose life you destroyed? Did it not matter to you that I could never move on from the shame and humiliation of what you did?"

"I gave you my reasons already, Afrah," he said. "Make of it what you will."

"I have my answer now," she said. "Of course now I know you never cared. But I also see you finally for what you are."

"And what might that be?"

"A pathetic man," she said. "A miserable, pathetic, lonely, woeful and unforgiving old man with nothing to love and no one to love him. You're nothing more than a joke, Yusuf; a footnote in the pages of history that will be forgotten once you're gone. There will be no one to love you. No one to remember you and say a prayer in your name. No one will mourn your death. You shall waste away in this life and the next, consumed by your own hateful deeds. Even your precious son has abandoned you. Who is left now that will defend you? Who is left that will stand by your side?"