Wajd

8

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Miqdam felt as if his soul would leave his body when the bullet pierced the rear window.

He knows...he knows that his death is coming and that his grandfather will kill him without any hesitation.

He would have preferred to die in this place instead of Ruham.

Because if the other one died, Miqdam would die a much worse death at the hands of his grandfather.

He was hurrying and couldn't bring himself to look back.

He screamed: Ruham! You idiot! Are you still alive?

He heard the sound of the other's breathing and his faint voice: Y-Yes.

He asked him: Are you hurt?

Ruham answered: A little. Just a scrape on my arm.

Miqdam was annoyed: Grandfather will surely kill me!

Ruham did not answer, as he was busy inspecting the minor wound on his arm from the bullet that had nearly pierced his body but, luckily, had passed by his side.

His arm hurt a lot, but he didn't scream or groan because this pain was much lighter than the pain of a bullet actually penetrating your body.

Because Ruham knew that feeling well—he had previously been shot in the thigh, and it nearly led to paralysis in his leg.

He bit his lip to stop himself from making any sound that might show his weakness.

It was enough that all his family looked at him with contempt, especially Miqdam.

He didn't want to become the other's joke, even more than he already was in his current situation.

His grandfather crossed his mind, and he couldn't stop himself from feeling sad.

Although his grandfather had been, for the most part, the cause of his misery, Ruham couldn't live without him.

Because his grandfather was the one who raised him, took care of his safety, and educated him.

Since his childhood, Ruham had no one by his side except for his grandfather.

He was used to standing beside his grandfather, feeling lonely as he watched the other children of the family talking and playing with each other.

Ruham was not wanted.

Except for his grandfather. His grandfather was the only one who wanted him and didn't mind his presence.

And just thinking about his grandfather, he allowed weakness to take over him.

Tears gathered in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

He decided to distract himself by looking outside, but his eyes met Miqdam's through the small mirror in the middle.

He quickly looked away and lowered his head to look at his feet instead, fearing that Miqdam might see him again.

Perhaps Miqdam hadn't noticed the tears that had gathered.

Stupid. Ruham was stupid.

And weak.

If only he were stronger.

Miqdam, with a mocking tone: Are you going to start crying now? I knew you were just a cry baby.

Ruham clenched his lips and didn't respond.

He was in pain, and at the same time, terrified of him.

Miqdam continued: Don't worry, kid. We'll be home in a few minutes, and the doctor will check the wound.