Operation: Dard and Devotion

45 | Lonely & Lifeless

It was Zaakhir, my gut feeling. It had to be.

Tala's language skills had been limited to conversational English and the chances of her writing a coherent letter were slim. It surely could not have been Faizan, Yassar, Rafaa...or even Ahsan.

All four of them had been executed in front of me.

The only possibility was that it was Zaakhir, a supposedly well-learned man. As far as I knew, he had not been killed at any point in the past two years and was still on the run.

The majority of me wanted to throw the envelope into the nearest sewer, but a tiny part of me was curious.

But, not curious enough.

I immediately stuffed the letter into my book bag and promptly stood up, the contents of my partially unzipped bag fell to the ground. Internally groaning, I stretched down to retrieve my unkempt assortment of books and papers when a hand reached down to grab a small white paper for me.

"Thanks," I mumbled, extending my arm to grab the paper when I was greeted with a cold smirk.

It was the same boy with whom I had argued earlier.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He asked nobody in particular. Classes were being dismissed and a number of students strode in and out of the building, paying little attention to the tense exchange between the boy and I. He flapped the paper in my face before flipping it so I could see the front. I froze. "Aww, how cute. You keep a picture of your boyfriend in your bag?"

I had not realized that I put Ahsan's picture in my book bag to begin with. My face flushed and I could feel the heat rising all the way up to my forehead. "Give that back."

"Did living the terrorist life in the Middle East cause you to forget your manners?" He asked menacingly. "I guess so," he answered his own question, "I doubt those people practice proper etiquette when trying to blow up a town."

"Carter!" A girl rushed over to where we were standing and stood by the boy. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing much, just dealing with a terrorist sympathizer," he replied smugly.

Though I had half a mind to break down in tears right there, I swallowed, mindful of the people around us, and spoke in a hushed tone. "Can I please have it back?"

"What's that?" Carter exclaimed loudly. "You want your boyfriend's picture back? Is he a terrorist too?"

Every head turned in our direction.

During the time of the execution, Ahsan's face, as well as that of the others, was all over different forms of media. Though now, it had been well over a year and Carter did not seem like the type of person to use any news source whatsoever.

However, that did not mean that he was not capable of riling people up.

"Carter," I mumbled, my face reddening with each moment. "Can I please have the photo? I've never done anything to you-"

"Really?" He interjected, as some people stopped in their tracks to blatantly eavesdrop. "Comparing me to Hitler and calling me a terrorist in front of an entire class is nothing at all!"

My shoulders slumped in near-defeat. My choice of words had been wrong in the midst of my anger, but he was just as horrid to me. However, I was in no position to resume the dispute here. I just needed the photo and had to run out of the place.

"I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I told him softly, blinking away the hot tears. "Can I have it back now?"

"This?" Carter questioned, holding out the photo with his two thumbs and index fingers and tearing it from the top. "Sure, you - can - have - it - back," he said, shredding the picture right down the middle with each word. He gathered the pieces in his fist and threw them at my face.