Secretly Married to my Professor

08| The Good Muslim Girl

Zahrah's POV

'There ain't no way she's surviving that,' A recollection of the past I hear in my mind as the man in white stops in his tracks. 

I stop myself from running as I stood in the empty hallway. I glance at the lecture room I left behind me, calculating if I could make it to him before he could run, and it was worth it.

Run.

I started moving again before I stopped in my track, "Zahrah," I turned around to see the older woman that the professor talked to earlier darts the door and raced out to me.

She warned me with just one word as if she was sent for this, "Zahrah."

I stop to look at her waiting for her to talk. I glance at the door behind her, determining if I could make it if I moved now. I huff at the older woman and wave her warning voice away with a careless hand.

I. Define. Her.

As I run faster and I hold my breath. I really don't want to know what I will find. Or maybe I do. Brace me for what my life could have been if I didn't follow my mother's wishful life for me. If I hadn't become her good girl, what will my life be like? I might as well get it over with; maybe I will be able to better sleep at night.

I ran—something I never do, especially not in these heels(Supposedly borrowed from Emilia)—but it wasn't enough as I thought I missed him, but... A silhouette emerges out of the car in a hurry as I streak up the street at full speed. I see the shattered glass from the vehicle's back window, and I slow my run to a walk. I listen before rounding and coming headlong into him.

It's Him with two kids. One of the kids is bleeding profusely from the wound of a gun shout. I came closer to the location in hiding. I can hear the kid breathing, but it's shallow. The doctor in me couldn't let the kid die on my watch.

As I come around, I can see the wound. It's probably fatal, judging by the gurgling coming from his throat and the sheer amount of blood on his upper body. His torn flesh is ragged at the edges of the wound, and there is a fair amount of it on the windshield.

I look up and down the street again. Nothing and nobody is coming near them for now. His attention is on the kid that he didn't notice me.

His engine is still running. He'd been caught unaware. Now that I got closer to him, I felt frustration again, practically shaking. Blood is everywhere, but no smell of blood. These were all things I was used to.

Don't screw up.

London's voice reminder rang through my head just like a decade ago, making me scoff and roll my eyes. I thought of him, and I will make him give me the information I need no matter what, but seeing him crying over the dying kid in his hand made me hesitant.

"Don't let him die."

I take my eyes off the target and into the small girl as I gave her a confused look. The blood didn't seem to faze her as soon enough; a loud voice came into the scene.