Clock and Compass

1- Breeze

A victim of a heinous murder lay in front of me. Just to add to the list of the sea of people already killed by these undignified terrorists and serial killers. The village was a choas. There was no data no records except for the ones left behind in the police station and hospitals, and that was two years ago.

For one to come here willingly, they have to have titanium guts. Otherwise these pools of blood, stinky air, solomen silence and the sickening sight of decaying bodies- you would not survive an hour. Amongst all of this I am expected to find a murderer who cuts clean through the throat with an ax; as the client says.

But I am not complaining. This has been my passion, providing people with help where help cannot reach. It is utterly satisfying and peaceful; for me at least. Sabeha here can not help but gag and everytime she sees something 'wonderful' she takes liberty to vomit.

This victim too had a clean cut throat. His neck was cut through with a clean blow. Yet, the lower part of his neck remains connected with his head. The victim has shown no sign of struggling.

"Did you gather the children?" I inquired from Sabeha.
"They're having better time than me. It's really pitful. They do not know what's going on." She stated.
'Hmm' I said dropping the talk.

They're big enough to understand what is happening.
Yet, they do not have that kind of a sorrow. They knew something like this will happen. Their country has been at war for long enough. They know what is going on. My heart  cried at the fate of the children. 'Someday they'll have a chance to study.'

His nails were purple and broken. His chest was covered in scars, those were scratches. He could be having sex but with what woman. Every injury of his seemed to have been given with times in between. I was confused. Each victim had different secondary injuries. Each probably had their own version of being tempted by the criminal.

I can ask the children what is going on. They probably don't know but there would be something. Some clue at least.

"Did he go somewhere?" I asked the biggest girl. She was sad but controlling it, I could tell. I took her into my lap and laid a kiss on the girl's head. This lead her to fright of what was to happen to her.

"We're not the bad guys. I swear." I told her. Her eyes were getting wider, as if considering the possibilities of things that could happen to her.

Out of all honesty, I could not blame her.

"Can you have faith in Allah and talk to me…" I requested from her.
She eyed me and lifted the pendent in my neck to bring it to my attention. The cross.
"That belonged to my mother. She passed away a long time ago. I have whatsoever no relation with this." I said pointing at it as she continued surveying  it.
Her eyes glimmered as if she wanted it. I kept my hand on her head and looked into her eyes.
"Do you want it?" I asked. She glanced back and forth between me and the pendant.
I took it off and put it in her neck. Her blue eyes glimmered as I passed her a smile.
No doubt this pendant is precious to me. But I have since left this life behind, when I was guided. It belonged to my late mother. Her memories and how she placed kisses on the object more than once. It is time I say goodbye to my lost lover. It was like a piece of my heart came off and and went with it. Till date, this is the hardest decision I have made.

I took a picture of her in my phone and kisses her once again.
"Your name?"
"Berezira Damsa Dadvar." Intelligence, white silk and just.
"Warisha." I told the Damsa.

I hugged and pecked her on her ear. She got cozy with me. I once again remembered my purpose here. It was a devastating truth, but I could not take Damsa with me.

"Where did your papa used to leave to?" I asked her.
"He went to the randais." She told me.
"Where would that be?"
"There's this pink, blue and white building at the edge of the town. There's a woman there who asks for food in turn of 'that'. My father said he's helping her." She replied with a tone which said that she did not believe a word. I like this kid.
"What time does he go?" I asked once again.
"In the evening. He's back at night." She said. "A psychopath used to live in the town. Everyone was vary. No one knew who it was. These murders have been going for long. The prostitue probably hoards him." She speculated.
"I'll go check." I told her and rose to my feet. I once again patted her head.

------

I walked to what I thought was the backstage. Sabeha trailed behind me. This is interesting. Prostitution in a war zone. This whole room is really kempt.

She sat sipping on a cup of tea. Slouched down in her couch with a torn looking fashion skirt and a crop top. Her belly was exposed and her hair straightened out from one side and curled the other. I allowed myself to walk near her and waited till she acknowledged me. And she did not.

"Excuse me." I croaked out into a tiny whisper.
"Excuse me." I repeated, only a bit louder. Only I could hear the little of it. She probably could not.
"Excuse me." I said in speaking volume after gathering freakish amout of courage.

"There ain't a tounge in your mouth." She remarked in Persian and I tried to decide between smiling or not.

"I wanted to ask a few questions." I said. "Alaslamualikum." I added watching my manners.

"Waalikumalaslam." She said eyeing me with a grin. "What do you want?"

"I had a few questions." I told her.
"Hmm"
"Do you happen to by chance know this person?" I inquired handing her a picture of Damsa's father.
She eyed it carefully.
"I remember this bird." She said with a finger on her mouth. I watched at her smiling at the image.
"What about him?" I asked shuffling my fingers.
"He was an addict. Came here quite often. It began to be madness. We kicked him out." She exclaimed. "He was not good either." She whispered.

My eyes widened as she spoke. I tried not to look shocked and stand like a decent person. I feel like my face is heating up. I gulped and shoved my hands into my pocket.

"Any weird habits. Things you noticed about him." I inquired. "Interests?" I asked.

"He did speak quite a lot to us. A lonely person looking for home. Sometimes it got frustrating." She spoke. "He crossed many lines. Stayed over the time. We really like to talk and listen but he talked what we did not do. He used to pay but lost himself and the money. No longer of any use to us."

I do not know why I am talking about a person's private life when there is little to no chance that it can help us in any way. I guess habit remains a habit wherever you are.

"Something to seprate him from the crowd. Something that really stood out." I asked.
"He was a hoarder. Hoarder of various gems and rare items. Big stuff. He hid them all but had showed me one." She said. "Lapis Lazuli, he called it."

You just need a picaxe. A ton of it.

"Anything else?" She asked me, raising from her seat. 

I tried to smile but ended up nodding. I averted my gaze and looked at the ground.

"You're quiet polite of a woman." She claimed. "Perhaps you had been in the business or-…" she guessed raising her eyebrow.

"No." I spoke with my voice barely audible. I shivered from the temperature and from what the woman is doing to me with her mere presence.

"What is your name?" I croaked. Only at this point wondering why Sabeha has not helped me yet. Looking around I found her sitting at far, clutching her arm in discomfort. She's not used to all this, I sighed.
"Pay attention to the person you are speaking to." She said reminding me of my manners.
"Sorry." I mouthed.
"Yasmeen."
I nodded. She eyed my discomfort and huffed.
"What is it." She asked.
"Nothing. Just not good at talking."
"I did not figure that out."
"Can I leave?" I whisper pleaded.

"Lord, leave. And tell me what you find after that."
I shook my head in compliance with my eyes widened.

🕵🏼‍♀️