ACRO

The Prince

"What's taking you so long?" whispered a female voice, in Arabic, worry laced in her tone.

Her hair was a shade of ginger red, her serene eyes green, and she wore a burqa, but her hijab had been disturbed, revealing her straight red flicks, hanging at the sides of her face.

Although her face held immense beauty, there was terror and grief in her eyes, along with a red bruise on her forehead.

"I don't know which one is it." said a fourteen year old boy, tall and lean, with serene dark eyes and porcelain white skin, just like the girl.

There were tear marks on his face, and his eyes had dulled, holding pain and worry in them, as his hands held a bunch of keys, trying each one to help open the lock of the gate they stood before.

They were present in front of a gate, behind which was a house, huge in size. The girl, seventeen years old, stood behind her brother under the night sky and a flickering street light that stood beyond the gate and across the road before the gate.

Memories flashed in his head, as he tried opening the door.

A beautiful home, now tattered and ransacked, with corpses lying on the ground. There was blood on the walls, and hysterical screams were heard all over the mansion. The servants were running here and there, some getting shot down, while some ran out of the house.

The boy and his sister were on the ground, wailing loudly, their arms all over their parents' lifeless bodies, with a bullet in their heads.

Gunshots echoed throughout the mansion, along with screams and cries of horror.

An army of American military officers invaded the house, holding rifles in their hands, shooting everyone in sight, except the siblings, who sobbed beside their parents' corpses.

A man of fifty, seemingly the one in charge of the soldiers raiding, ransacking and slaughtering the people in the house, stood before the siblings, who sat beside their dead parents, crying their eyes out.

"Take them." he said, and the soldiers grabbed the two and dragged them out of the house. The two fought and tried to break free from their clutches, but were unable to. The girl, who's hijab was now loosening over her head, bit the man's hand. The soldier punched her face, making her fall to the ground. Her red tresses let loose as her hijab came off, and the man grabbed her arm and started to drag her towards a jeep. She looked at her bruised brother, being beaten up by the soldiers for resisting them, as he was being dragged to the same jeep.

"Youssef, hurry!" the girl whispered, pulling him out of his reverie.
His hands fumbled with the keys as he tried inserting each one into the lock, and a tear dropped from his eyes.

He blinked, trying to focus, but the memories of his dead parents made his eyes water and his hands fumble even more.

"Hurry up!" she whispered, agitatedly.

"Shut up, I'm trying!" he shouted.

Their eyes widened as the sounds of footsteps approached.

"Oh, no." he murmured, realising his voice alerted the men holding them captive.

He started to try every key with the lock, and his hands began shake in anxiety. They fumbled with the keys even more and shook so hard, it was hard for him to even insert the key into the keyhole.

A yelp made him turn, and he saw his sister being pushed to the side, by the head of the military unit who ordered his men to capture the two, earlier that afternoon.