"What the heck is this Ibrahim??!"
The men looked up at her bored and then lowered his gaze to that envelope. A small smirk formed on his face and he said,
"I thought you could read English, Anaisha!"
He scoffed and continued his work on the lapt...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As I rummage through the dusty corners of my childhood home, memories flood back like a tidal wave. The familiar scent of cinnamon and wood polish lingers in the air, stirring long-lost emotions. With each passing moment, I feel more determined to find answers - clues that could shed light on the dark secrets buried within these walls.
My fingers brush against a hidden compartment beneath an antique desk, its existence known only to those who were once part of this place. As I open it, a small object catches my eye - a sleek silver USB drive nestled among the shadows.
Could this be what I've been searching for?
Excitement courses through me as I plug the device into the laptop, eager to see what lies hidden within its digital recesses. Images flicker across the screen, painting a vivid picture of a scene so twisted and grotesque that it feels surreal.
The room is filled with the muffled sounds of distress - the desperate pleas of a woman caught in the grip of unspeakable horror. Her voice echoes through my headphones, each cry piercing my heart like a dagger. Tears well up in my eyes as I listen to her anguished screams, wishing I could reach out and save her from this nightmare.
"Shut up!"
snarls the man on the screen, his face contorted with rage and lust. It's him - my father, his face masked the monster lurking beneath. His cold, calculating gaze sends chills down my spine as he forces himself upon the helpless woman. Ibrahim's Mom.....
Amidst the chaos, another voice emerges - the frantic pleas of a man who was tied near a pillar. His words are barely audible above the din of pain and suffering, but their desperation cuts through the noise like a knife. "Please," he whispers, tears streaming down his face. "Don't do this... She's innocent... Please, just let us go..." His feelings resonate within me, turn up my own feelings of shock and betrayal.
How could someone I trusted so deeply harbor such darkness inside?
How could my dad, my superhero, my role model could ever do this.
I don't believe this... I.. I..
I felt my heart paining so bad. It felt as if someone is gripping my heart tightly and twisting my guts.
Dad..
I whispered as I got up from the chair. The video was still going on in the background. I have to listen to all this so that I could get some clue about why he did this... But I can't watch that video, it's better to just listen to it. Most of the time it was gut wrenching cries from both of his parents, while dad was laughing.
I was ashamed, heartbroken and furious. All because of my dad. How could he stoop to that level?!! All this while, I thought about how Ibrahim is a monster while not knowing that my own dad had did more worse.
I sit down on the floor as the tears kept streaming from my eyes.
