My Twisted Mafia

The runaway...

Under Editing....
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I was running away .

Only God knows where to, I just walked on and on.
My feet had started to ache, the afternoon sun didn’t show any mercy either. 

I was so thirsty my throat was dry I had to drink some water, I needed some water or else I was going to pass out.

It’s not like I was hurrying off somewhere like someone would catch me, no that’s funny.
Who would come looking for me..??

So I halt and glance around to look for water,..

I see children playing around a very un hygienic environment. The current look on their faces when they are not running away from Sudden explosions and ambushes  seems content.
I wish I felt that way, but that is how it is, being a child means not even worrying about if there is food to sustain you or how you will get money for it.

They know that this is temporary, Yet during this little time they get to play ..
One can tell they are happy by the glimmer in their eyes…… And the noise too..

I quickly suppress the smile that I had unknowingly plastered,
Pushing away the stupid ache in my heart of having no childhood.. 

I turn my gaze to the women along the road..
Covered in their hijabs. Selling bread and other stuff I don’t know but I think it’s food.
Flies surrounded the area as if they were the middle men for the trade…
I stuck my tongue out in disgust

    ‘Forget the water..’ I inwardly sighed…

I kept walking, I swear I saw blur… But then it’s just the hunger…

I just have to get to Islamabad before Dawn, else I’ll be Sabri‘s dinner himself…

Where I’m I going?

That, I honestly don’t know,but what I do know, Is I want to get away ..
I want to get all of this weight off his shoulders ..

I feel another knife twist in my chest as I think about him

    ‘ He wouldn’t care ‘

My conscience snaps a little bit harshly.
I sigh…

“he does” 

I convince my self with a somewhat imaginary pat on my shoulder

I smile at the memory that I at least cooked him dinner before leaving.. 

I know he wouldn’t be back before then and if he is,
He’ll probably shut himself in his room till the next Day as always.
He will never notice I’m gone. I know so because he has never ever checked on me… But still I feel complete adoration for him and nothing less…

I halt as I see the children who were playing rushing indoors. The women also collect their stuff in a rushed manner, I flinch as I here a common voice. 

Too common ..
Sabri ‘s men..

I mentally rolled my eyes. Can’t they ever be quiet ?, They are always shouting about something.
I turn as I take a new path, if they catch me it would be the end of me.

Somehow I can’t stop thinking of going back…
But I can’t, I’m doing him a favor remember…

‘Little miss goodie two shoes’

I smile as I hear a very familiarity sassy voice in my head 

“And what’s wrong with being good”

I mumble what I always tell her back.

I know I can’t hate anyone…but surely ever since I knew the word hate then I’ve always hated one single person..

Abdul Sabri..

He took away something so precious to me…even before I could have it…  my brother.

Well, my name is Isqaar.
No don’t try to pronounce it,
If you care much just call me Issy...

I got used to that since no-one ever pronounces my name correctly,..
I’m 19…one day to 19 actually….I’m not going to describe much of my physical appearance since I don’t spend much time on the mirror.. I live with my brother…

It’s pretty much Practically alone 
My brother’s name is Naseer
And for as long as I can remember it has only been just the two of us..,

My parents died even before I could get to know them, but my brother knows them perfectly.

My mom was a beautiful (thank you pictures) Indian something else tells me that she was a half cast but no one would ever clarify that since no-one ever speaks of that it’s a sensitive subject to my brother 
My mother was a warrior, to me any woman that dies during child delivery is a warrior.

But I can understand how hard it can be for my brother, and so I completely understand when he does not celebrate my birthday. 
I know why my brother hates me and I don’t blame him for that. If it wasn’t for me mom could have been here.
Most people tell me she was beautiful and I am just a sweet reminder for that, because I took everything from her from her face to her smile.

Not very far after that horrible loss, we lost dad few days after I have never known them but it’s funny how sometimes I feel like I know them…

My father was a soldier 
I will  explain, you see where we live it has always been clashes between us and the next town…apparently a Hindi town where my dad found the love of his life...

I have never heard this story but  it’s what I know.
My neighbors say during dad’s era, the law enforcement was effective. But ever since that regime passed we seem to have the most corrupted police force.

Why ?

because of they can not seem to save the people from one problem that hurts us.  And that is Sabri, 
he brings Terror everywhere he touches.

He runs his Mafia and  his men won’t allow anyone to get in or out of the town...,he hates Indians and I hate him, my dad was a patriotic Pakistani who died in war. He has captured A lot of boys in town, making them part of are part of this gang…

Sadly my brother too …
I can not blame them, growing up is hard. Very hard.

I know I have no say, he took care of me since a month till now through that ,he has never spoke of it and I act like I don’t know. It’s not like he needs my permission to do anything.. When my parents died My brother was six then. he was left with a burden…

ME.

I have been living with him for 19 years now but we spoke even less than my own years…

It's like a routine, wake up do house chores, eat breakfast alone, clean all the house except and strictly except his room...

Sometimes I really wonder what his room is even like, has he painted it black…?

Cook dinner eat alone. Wait for him. Fall asleep on the couch…
Wake up at midnight find his food untouched. But his light are on. He is working always…

How did I even forget to say ,how my brother loves Sabri with all his heart. He practically worships him. The word in town is he is Sabri’s favorite man… 

And so he happens to be very feared, my brother carries that with him. The instilling of fear. actually I don’t think he has ever smiled…

I know all that still doesn’t make sense why I am running, well I call it going away….

I am dying…
Not Today…
  but I’m scared of dying . One of these days I might actually kick the bucket.

I’m asthmatic. The attacks are painful and severe. I don’t know if I will ever get better
maybe I would if I pay attention to my meds, my brother always seem to know, that is the only thing he pays attention to. The only thing that he says to me Is

“ are they over?”

One time he gave them to me I saw a badge. They were so expensive I gawked. I feel like a burden…so I’m only taking them when I get serious and that’s normally after crying
Maybe if I go he’ll leave the gang,be happy and safe. 

So am going. One day before my birthday…

I love you brother…I always have

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blacsolá 🖤