PRESIDENT'S SON AND I

1: The Escape

1: The Escape
NASRIN

I panted and slumped on the floor, careful not to bruise the delicate creature that laid peacefully on my back. When I turned back, I could still see the lights surrounding the house, the looming figure of the dungeon that surrounded me for over a year now. And it was a miracle to say, that finally, I've escaped.

I knew I should be happy about this escape of mine, but I'm crying. No, maybe crying was a small word for what I'm doing. If I could say I'm bawling my eyes out because the pain I was feeling deep in my heart was too much for me to bear. It felt as though someone had his or her hand latched onto this brittle heart of mine and was squeezing so hard as though they were juicing it out. It was too much for me.

At first, I thought that the day I made an escape would be the happiest day of my life. That I wouldn't be suffocated by the walls and pains in both the house and my heart. But the fresh air I thought that my lungs would surge in wasn't here. And the walls were still around me, confining me in such a detrimental way that I could barely breath.

Maybe it was because I was crying too hard. Or simply, the weight of this little creature on my back reminded me of all the things I wanted so bad to forget and of the things I'd never get back despite having escaped from the secret house.

I wiped at my tears, because it kept getting blurry and I knew, staying here to cry my eyes out would be the most terrible mistake I'd ever make in my life. I may be caught, and once that happened, I should probably forget about living at all. And if not for myself, then for her...I'd make sure to live.

I pulled myself up and continued to run, because that was the only thing I've been doing for the past one year. I've always been running. Away from my thoughts, my pains, those painful memories that never for once fade from my heart. It felt everyday as though they were being renewed, as though I had to live that day everyday for the rest of my life.

And to say it wasn't a good feeling would be an understatement.

My lungs were constricting, sending an alarm off to my body that they needed to rest and gulp down some air. But I couldn't make the mistake of pausing to take the breather I clearly knew I deserved. I kept running, panting and crying, while secretly making du'a that I wouldn't be caught by these people. My life wouldn't end now, it mustn't.

I may or may not have a revenge to act up to, but at least I have a soul to hate more than I've ever hated something or someone in my life. And just like love had me going for so many years of my life, I'm sure this hatred would be like a fuel to my already blazing life.

I didn't know how to avenge on him, not even sure if I'd ever get the chance to. But one thing I knew was, I'd never forgive him. And I'd keep on hating him, praying that somehow, one way or the other, my hatred would burn into his skin and kill him alive.

I didn't know how, but I was thinking, crying and running that I either didn't see the car speeding towards me or my brain voluntarily chose to ignore it. The only thing I felt was myself being smashed by the car. In one minute, I was running, crying and seething with hatred and the next, I was flying in the sky before I made a terrible fall on the ground. The heavy scent of fresh blood intoxicating my senses and before I lost my consciousness, I remembered.

She had been cradled in my back all this night. She shouldn't be hurt. I could afford dying for her to live. Please, Ya Rabb, don't let her be hurt.

A lone tear slid out of my eyes as I heard no sound from her. Just a whimper that sounded like a deep breath and even though I was slowly falling into oblivion, I could feel the added weight on my back. And that was enough to tell me that my baby had been killed. Whoever the driver was...he had killed my baby.