LOOK AT ME (Muslim Story)

He looked at me (48)

At least something in my life is going right.

It was winter break, Christmas was in three days and I have a whole lot of homework due on our return day.

I moved back in with my dad, and life's been going easy on me lately. Thank god at least. He's only made my faith in him stronger.

I started learning how to pray.

Me and my dad have been visiting mosques, learning how to pray, how to read and how to speak like muslims. We were learning all about muslims and from the looks of it, my dad's been falling in love with the religion. He wasn't a strong practicer just yet but he looked like that's what he was trying to do.

Become a strong practicer.

I updated my dad on my life, how me and Ahmed aren't exactly friends anymore and we haven't spoken in the last two to three weeks. I told him how I think Ahmed hates me and probably wants nothing to do with me. My dad always suggested I talked to him though, and told him how I feel. But I was never good at talking and I think my dad understood that.

By practicing Islam, I feel like maybe I'll understand a little more why Ahmed doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. I kind of feel like it's because of me but there's something in my head that's screaming religion as an excuse.

I have to find out.

Right now, me and my dad were figuring out ways to throw out our Christmas tree. Honestly, it's kind of sad considering I've always loved to celebrate Christmas. My dad would always buy the best of things and he would spoil the fuck out of me. But right now, he's more determined in throwing out Christmas ornaments and stuff out than I am.

"You take down the ornaments while I throw out the Christmas tree okay?" My dad gave me instructions before he lifted up the large plain green tree and started to make his way outside with it.

I nodded my head lazily and started to pack the ornaments into a throw away box. I wasn't ready to give up Christmas. Christmas was awesome, I grew up with that shit. It feels a little too early to loose it but I'm pretty sure Allah's got something better planned for me.

I started cleaning up as minutes and minutes past by. It was a little strange because my dad's been out throwing the tree. I'm also pretty sure that throwing a tree into a bin that's literally like ten meters away from the house doesn't take close to ten minutes.

I dusted my hands and walked outside into our driveway, "Hey Dad, you alright out here?"

When I heard no response, I felt a little worried. The car was still parked in our driveway, the air was cold and it was just...quiet.

Too quiet.

I decided to move towards the garage, only to to see it wide open, the Christmas tree on the floor.

I gasped.

My dad. He was there.

Not only was he there, but he was there, being held by the throat with a knife and a familiar white man behind him. It was that guy, Brandon's friend. I think his name was Fred.

"Hey, Emerald." My dad said with a shaky voice, "I'm doing just fine." He said sarcastically.

At least I know where I got it from.

Fred looked furious. He held the knife so close to my dad's neck, I'm pretty sure he already skimmed it. Fred had his friends with him too, all familiar kids who I remember once sticking their small white dicks in my mouth.

Oh god, I'll kill them all.

"Let him go." I said sternly to Fred.

He only laughed, a dark one that almost scared me, "Let him go? You've got to try something harder than that."