Living Water

24. A mother's wail

Timothy was covered with blood.
It was smeared across his shirt and on his hands and palms. He sat on the hospital bench, shell shocked and stiffened with trauma after all that occurred in the past few hours.

Ayla sat across him, a large smile across her face, like that of awe or wonder. She had no blood on her, but they were streaks of tears across her shirt.

The doctor stepped out of the ICU  a sober look on his face. His eyes met Ayla and Timothy, and the doctor's face became all the more sober.

Ayla cupped her mouth, the  emotion the doctor exuded could mean only one thing. Timothy was too zoned out to mentally process anything concerning his surroundings. Anger seemed to cloud his senses as he struggled to suppress it. There was a lot of wrong he yearned to right. It didn't make sense that people preferred to prey and take advantage of the vulnerable, he was livid with vengeance . His mind pulled back to the last three hours.

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The banging on the door increased it's tempo. While Jamal struggled to escape through the back door. Who knew that a door key would be too much of a struggle for a veteran. Timothy nearly scoffed at his vain efforts, he wasn't in the least tempted to help him out, but Ayla continued to offer her services, and the man continued to shrug her off. Apparently the possible life threatening situation did nothing to affect his ego as "the man."

He leaned back on the wall, not too close to the door in case of anything, as his parents struggle to liberate them from the house, he was busy rolling his eyes at them. The memory of his alcohol breathe was long forgotten in the scare and squabble. His eyes suddenly widened when his ears picked up a whimper, followed by successive sobs. He looked around and no one was crying around him. He curiously moved closer to the door and inclined his ears to the sounds emanating from behind the door.

Despite the bangings he still picked up more whimpering and sobs. Then the banging on the door stopped abruptly and Timothy stepped away from it, wary of what may occur next.

"Yes it's opened!" Jamal exclaimed.

"Timothy, come let's get going." Ayla called from the kitchen, where they both were. He was about to explain to his mom what he just heard, when a cry stopped him in his tracks.

"Mummy Timo!!!" Timothy froze, and it seemed like Ayla heard it too as she burst out of the kitchen, a questioning look on her face.

"Timothy what was that?" She asked.

"I don't know, but it came from the door." He pointed to the door.

"Mummy Timooo!!!" The voice called out again. The raspy, urgent wails of a desperate person.

"Timothy move from the door, let me open it." She ordered.

Timothy shook his head. If anyone should open the door it should be him, so if it was all just an elaborate ruse to smoke out the targets, he would fall instead of his mother.

Jamal rushed out of the kitchen, an exasperated look on his face, like a face a person makes when they're talking to numbskulls.
"Are you people alright?! Let's get out of here!" He ordered harshly.

Timothy ignored him, and moved before Ayla could intercept, there was a pull in his instincts to open the door, and he was going to follow it at all costs. He pulled the door open, his senses moved past Jamal's yelling to retreat and Ayla's attempt to move him away from the door.

He looked at the image in front of him and froze. The old woman, held a large stone in her hands, bigger than her head, she looked like she was about to throw it at the door before she saw him, but that wasn't what surprised him the most. Behind her, the rain beat softly cascading down a body left on the ground. He couldn't distinguish the body's facial features, but blood leaked from the body, a mixture of blood and water snaked around the front porch.