A Castle In The Air [Completed]

27. But is it for the Best?

~~~

Zunnoor was terrified. The thick, crimson fluid on the floor was slowly flowing towards him, causing his heartbeat to ricochet against his skull. He'd close his eyes, listen to the thudding footsteps and screams all around him and then open his eyes again, shivering uncontrollably.

Counting the seconds tick by, he was waiting for the trespassers to come for him too, while hidden behind a dressing trolley, his teeth gritted and beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"I can see you. Come out." A gruff voice sounded in the room, and his heart almost burst free from the ribs in fright.

Slowly, his chest rising and falling, he turned, raised his head and peered through the gap in the trolley.

The young man was looking down at him with his eyebrows drawn.

Zunnoor's gaze dropped to the pistol in his hands and he noticed the blotches of red that marked his skin. "I didn't do anything." Raising his eyes back to his face, he managed to say.

"How old are you?" He asked instead.

"Twelve."

"What's your name?"

"Zunnoor."

Placing the pistol back into the holster, he said after a pause. Somewhere in a room nearby, a cry of pain erupted. "I'm not going to hurt you. Come out."

With trembling knees, Zunnoor managed to rise to his feet, and wiping the sweaty palms against his shorts, he dropped his head before passing him a glance.

"Where's your home?"

"I don't want to go back." His voice came out low.

"Where else then?"

"Not home."

"Fair enough. Come with me, I'll take you somewhere safe."

As he walked out of the brief hallways of the clinic with him, watching the people he'd been working with getting handcuffed, and through the street to the cars parked haphazardly in the ground where wind blew the sand into his nose and eyes, he felt an odd feeling brew in his gut.

He turned his neck as if a premonition had hit him, and saw two familiar faces in the shadows of the street across. One of them took a finger to his lips, and Zunnoor glanced up at the young man, who's strong hand he held.

He could feel himself ticking, and knew at that moment that he would prove to be a bomb for the guy, a bomb that was due to explode in the time to come.

×××

The loud noise of the motorcycles racing past the street rang in his ears, and the roaring, carefree cackles of boys his age tugged his heart. Shaking his head, he cursed under his breath and hurried up the short stairs. How would it have hurt anyone if he’d had a normal childhood, one that had nothing to do with crimes and weapons, with blood and gore. With constant fear.