All Which Remains

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Farrah

I forced myself to forget about that weird dream. It haunted me. When I woke up, the smell of bacon was wafting in the air. It reminded me of what had happened. I tried to force myself to open the door and I hoped that I wouldn't see my parents' faces melting. The face of that boy was burned into the back of my mind. I opened the bedroom door with caution and stepped out. My mom was at the bottom of the stairs. She looked up and saw me. Tears filled her eyes. I was thankful that she didn't look like one of the creatures, but fear still gripped me like a vice.

I stepped backward. My mom took a step towards me like she was waiting for me to run away or scream something at her. Then, she ran towards me and wrapped her arms around me. She cried and wailed as she hugged me. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to hug her like she was hugging me, but I couldn't move. My mom asked me why I had come back when she had told me to run away.

"I couldn't leave you and Arif," I said, on the verge of tears.

"You should have run." She said, burying her face into my shoulder.

"What's all the ruckus?" My father asked as he climbed the stairs.

Mom turned around and tried to shield me from him.

"Ah, so the little bird has returned to the nest." My father said.

"Leave her alone, Ahmed." Mom said, grabbing my hand and trying to pull me past him.

"Why are you here, munchkin?" my father said, ripping my hand out of my mom's.

"I killed Arif," I said, looking him straight in the eyes. "I killed him so that you won't be able to reach him. I'll be joining him in Neraka, and I won't be coming back." So much for coming up with a cover story.

My father slapped me across the face. "How dare you!" He grabbed my arm so hard that I could feel his nails pierce through some of my skin.

"Ahmed, please, don't do this to our little girl. She knows that what she did was wrong, so let her go."

"No," I said. "I knew exactly what I was doing and I don't regret anything. With a father like you, Arif would have preferred to die. We all know it." I glared at my father. He hit me again so hard that the world went spotty.

"Try me," I said again, urging him to put me out of my misery. He knew what I was trying to do. He hit me a third time and knocked me unconscious.

When I woke up, I was in the police station. I was handcuffed to a chair. A few feet away, there was what looked like a teenage boy. He turned to look at me and I felt my body start to convulse. I dry heaved. It was the boy from my dream. The boy smiled. The white hair covered his eyes, but I was sure that it was him. He had the same hair, the same face. When he noticed me looking at him, he smiled. It wasn't the creepy smile like it was in the dream, but I still felt unsettled. He swiped at his hair, and I saw that he was blind. The gray cloudy fog that had mentally taken over my brain had infested his eyes. The color of his eyes was still beautiful, you could just barely tell that they used to be green.