Brooklyn Chronicles: Save our Sons and Daughters

Chapter Four

The crisp sounds of the cream coloured pages turning filled the silent and dim room.

10 The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.

                                                                          John 10:10

Malaika held the bible closer to her reading the verse from John in the Bible. Her eyes shifted and gazed at the steam coming from her cup of coffee. Her body leaned forward and her hands reached for the brown mug.

The shadows of it’s hot steam danced in her face and entwined with her breath to a cooler temperature. Her lips took a long sip from the rims of the cup and the warm thick and creamy texture of her coffee filled her mouth. She took another sip and placed it back on the bamboo wooden coffee table.

The tapping of rain drops on the windows had been continuous since morning. 

After the incident from two weeks ago, she was now in her inherited and owned property. She had thoroughly cleaned the abandoned townhouse and re-decorated it with her own furniture in the space of two weeks. The old fashioned dusty and moulded home was now clean and modernised with furniture.

She had hoped the young family of six would return and she had gone looking for them around town but they were nowhere to be seen. 

In her own deep thoughts, she continued to read until the loud roar of the thunder and heavy winds outside broke the silence. The flash of lightning brightened the dim room and struck a tree nearby. In that same moment, the half open door slammed against the wall and became fully open by the forces of the strong wind coming from the open window.

Malaika became still and didn’t move an inch.

During the silence, a hard knock came from outside on her door. She said a quick prayer in her head as she placed her Bible on the hard surface of the wooden table, she slowly walked to the mahogany coloured door.

“Who is it?” She asked holding onto the locks, no reply came. She asked once more, again there was no reply from outside. Curious, she slowly opened her door and she was shocked to see who stood on her doorstep.

It was Zipporah.

Her locks of curls were tangled and dripping in water. The clothes Malaika had last seen her in from two weeks ago were the same clothes she was wearing.

The look of worry overpowered Malaika’s face and her hands held Zipporah’s as she pulled her into her warm home. Zipporah cried in Malaika’s arms, she was terrified and distressed.

Malaika pulled away and helped Zipporah to the room where she had been sitting. Zipporah sat down in the comfort of the leather chairs, her dirty, naked, cold and wet feet sunk into the burgundy thick sheepskin rug. Malaika threw the woollen throw over Zipporah’s shoulders and wrapped around her. 

She wiped the incoming tears flowing out of the young girl’s eyes and tried to calm her down.

“Zipporah what is wrong?” Malaika asked on her knees in front of Zipporah who was rocking back and forth. Zipporah bit her lips until they were beetroot red.

“I’m scared, Malaika I’m scared.” She bit her lips and swallowed a lump of fear.

Malaika tucked the strands of her hair behind her ear struggling to understand, “Why are you scared Zipporah?”

“I ran away from my family, I don’t know where my brother is. I keep having bad dreams about my father and my brother. I’m scared.” She hugged her knees.

“Why did you run away?” Malaika held her hand. Zipporah shook her head, she couldn’t tell her. The harsh reality of living on the streets for two weeks was too much for her to handle. She had lived on the streets before, but it wasn’t as bad as how it was now.

“Where’s your father?” Malaika brushed her hand gently. 

“He’s dead. He died from heart disease when I was still young. I keep having dreams of finding him dead on a couch where we used to live, I had so much to say, I wish I could have said bye. The only time I can talk to him is when I look into the sky.”

Malaika wrapped her arms around Zipporah comforting for her, her tears fell down as she became touched by the young girl opening up to her and telling her about her life.

“I keep having dreams of finding my brother dead on the streets. Izzy is all I have left, I’m scared Malaika, I’m scared.” 

“Nothing will happen to him, I promise you.” Malaika kissed her head and began praying as she held her tight.

Zipporah was worn out from hours of crying, she had fallen asleep in Malaika’s arms like a child. Malaika slowly moved and helped Zipporah lay on her sofa with her head rested on a cushion.

She closed the door and left her to rest while she made something hot and fulfilling to eat. Malaika stood in her kitchen absent minded, so many thoughts were running through her mind. The first was how worried she was for the family of six who had come from the streets, the only thing she could do was pray for them.

In the midst of her silent prayer, hard knocks came from the door followed by hard kicks. She rushed to her door alert and opened it to see the young girl’s angry older brother, Izzy. He pushed past and left Malaika’s weak body smacking against the wall.

His dirty and wet black New Balances made a trail across her hallway floor as he searched for his little sister. He swung and kicked the closed wooden door open leaving a crack in the middle. Zipporah sat up in shock and the moment she saw her brother, she began crying.

“What did I tell you about running away?” He violently approached her and lifted her body from the couch. “No I’m not going back on the streets Izzy!” She yelled fighting her way out of his strong hold. “I want to stay here, I want us to come back home. Malaika said it was ok.”

His eyes struck Malaika who was standing at the door. Her weak and fragile body moved back as his 6’6 figure towered her height. He held Malaika by her tag and forced her back to press against the door. 

“Let her go!” His little sister pulled him by his hood. He turned around holding his sister’s hands trying to drag her out of the house. Zipporah fought with all her strength but his overpowered hers.

Her knuckles met the surface of his skin and her nails tore apart some of the flesh underneath his eye. “Izrahiah.” She gasped holding her mouth. 

He released his hold and took two steps away from her. He looked at her with a look of anger and disappointment, 

“I’m sorry.” She leaped forward, but he pushed her back.

He stormed out of Malaika’s home and rushed down the pairs of stairs, Zipporah ran after her brother. Her hands held onto her brother’s black tracksuit. He turned around and pulled off his black hood to reveal his face. His face matched hers, the dark ginger freckles and structure.

He looked at his sister like it was the last. In his eyes she saw pain and anger. 

He grabbed her hands and flung them off his body and he left her standing in the rain as he walked away from her.