roudha-writes

[roudha-writes]

The dead smile :): TW; GUNS, BLOOD, ANNOYING BRITISH LADY. The sound of the bullet rang in my ear. Blood had been everywhere. My hand had pulled the trigger, it had killed my mother.I killed my mother.But I’m moving too fast; let’s start ten years ago when my brother died. My brother was young and healthy but he was curious. Three years ago The government declared anyone seen having too much fun in public, shall be punished. And my little brother was a ball of curiosity he loved playing, laughing, doing homework, spending time with me. Doing things that made him smile. One day he went out to pray Maghreb. But on his way home he saw an old playground ( they had been banned from use vegetation ate them.) He had told me a wave of nostalgia had hit him. So he went and played in the swings ( he thought it was harmless just a little fun ) But someone had spotted him and he got reported. They came over. And by ‘they’ I mean molly, which sounds like a happy name right? But she was responsible for my brothers' death. ‘Your boy was seen smiling’ she had said to my parents, my mother sobbed in my arms, because she knew what that had meant. She was saying ‘ lail’la’ha’ila’allah’ she kept repeating over and over again. That night she had prayed and sobbed, for hours. But then she went to my brothers' room and recited every surah I knew from the Quran. I remember sleeping to her reciting surah al-baqarah. The next day ‘molly’ came and she had brought a gun.Why? Well, when someone you know has had ‘fun’ anything that puts them in a good mood. You or someone who would know them. Has to….kill them. And why? You may be asking. As they use to say to help us feel despair and numbness. Everyone was now at the front door my mother was in my fathers' arms she had fainted because of stress. And my father begged “ please, I will give you anything. But I won’t kill my son” she pursed her lips “ I know, that’s why she will do it, she will kill him” molly smiled, I shook my head and spit on her foot “ well that’s no good is it” she said in her British accent. She handed me the gun. I didn’t take it, I wouldn’t take it. She had forced my hand to hold it. And so I did. “Shamsa no” I heard my father say.The gun was to her face. She seemed stunned, for some reason like nobody had dared to do this. “ do it and your whole family is gone”. I fell to my knees and prayed that Allah would listen “lail’la’ha’ila’allah SAY IT ALI SAY IT PLEASE” I begged my brother to keep saying it. He listened and that was the last thing he said. I wanted to cry not from sadness, but happiness. I knew for sure that my brother would be happy finally.