I was careful to keep my footsteps light, just in case the two soldiers were nearby. But my focus soon shifted from that to the more pressing matter: I was getting closer to home with every step I took. I was getting closer to that suffocating atmosphere of despair that lacked any oxygen. Lacked happiness. Lacked hope. Most important, lacked love.
What was the most depressing was the fact that I was going there willingly. As much as I abhorred that place, I would never leave it, because there was a thin line between love and hate, and my feelings towards that house kept skipping from one side to the other, but careful to not actually enter either realm.
It would never be more than a house though. No matter the memories thickening the air in every corner, it would always be just a concrete building that housed my remaining family. It would never be safe haven, never be a sanctuary, never be a home.
It being the shelter that housed my family wasn't the only reason I kept going back to it, though. There was something about the grief that was exciting. That pulled me in everytime, and, although I knew it would never end well for me, I always kept going back to it willingly.
There were voices nearby, but I was too far gone in my dread and anticipation of entering that place to notice and slow down. I payed them no heed, as any sensible Kashmiri would have, but it was a first for me. Until I heard a scream.
It broke through the spiral that my thoughts were quickly forming, and I stopped in my tracks, looking around the towering trees that surrounded me.
I heard voices again, but they were too far away and muffled for me to make out what was being said. Taking a few steps forward, making sure to not make any noise, I strained my ears to hear better.
The voices got even softer, which almost made me dismiss it as a couple of soldiers, but a sob caught my attention. It should've warned me, should've told me not to meddle in affairs that had no connection to me and I could almost hear my neighbour, Mrs. Shamila, telling me that I can't save everyone.
It didn't. If anything, it sprouted a dose of courage in my veins, which made me follow the shout that followed the sob. I saw the uniform of the Indian military long before I should've, but everything becomes clearer once you're expecting it. I should've taken that as a second warning from God, but that courage was still pumping through my veins. So I continued my path, until I was close enough to see a girl being manhandled by a soldier. Just like that, the courage was overpowered by the rage that now ran through my blood vessels. I should've stuck to the courage, because anger was a misleading emotion, that caused one to do stupid things, but sometimes also gave birth to the most fearless actions.
The soldier was saying something, I realised, as I shook off the red in my vision.
"You really thought you could get away with it, huh?" He then laughed cruelly before his face pulled back into a sneer.
"I'm going to kill you," he said, which brought upon several tears in the girl's eyes, and even more sobs, begging the soldier to forgive her.
Just when I thought I couldn't get any angrier. I could easily see myself in the place of that girl, who didn't seem to be more than a few years older than me. I wouldn't beg like that, though. I would fight. Or maybe I was just thinking that because I wasn't in that situation.
In a moment in which I was blinded by fury, I took a step forward to pick up a stone and throw it at the soldier, but since fury tends to block out all other senses, especially the common sense, I stepped on a twig.
It snapped. The world stopped when the soldier dropped the girl's arm and looked around. Time froze when his eyes met mine. Everything shattered into a million pieces of coloured glass around me when he started walking to me, until all I could focus on was the sharp rock and the quickly shrinking distance between death and me.
Driven by impulse and pure instinct, I leaped towards the rock and grabbed it, throwing as hard as I could. I had aimed at his head, but I would be surprised if the rock met its mark.
Turns out it was my lucky day, because a spot of red appeared on his forehead immediately. However, I wasn't that lucky, since it didn't knock him out as I had supposed it would.
There was movement behind him, and in a flash, before I could properly comprehend what was happening, the soldier had his gun out and aimed. Not to me, but towards the girl, who had made a last attempt to escape.
The soldier kept his eyes on me as his lips split into the cruelest smile I'd ever seen.
"Do you want to join her?"
I didn't reply. He turned his back to me and went back to the girl, whose eyes now shone with hopelessness.
The soldier had given me a chance, I realised. To run away, to not affiliate myself with matters that didn't concern me. I should've taken that chance and run away, but I wasn't really a sensible person, if a sensible person would leave another person to die while saving themselves and sleep peacefully afterwards, even knowing that their act of cowardice had just deprived a mother of their child.
In what some would say a foolish act of bravery, I followed the soldier and said, "Let her go. She doesn't deserve this. "
The soldier laughed, before looking me in the eyes as he said, "You don't know that. "
I didn't allow my chin to droop even for a second. "Yes, I do. "
He growled. "No, you don't know what she did. "
"I know what she did. She just committed the heinous crime of being too pretty for her own good. "
He laughed again and said, "You're too naive. You think in black and white. "
Confused, I asked, "What?"
"You think in black and white. You think life is a story that has a hero and a villain. All of you kashmiris," he sneered at the word, "do. You think you're all heroes, and the Indian army is the villain. "
I should've left. Mrs. Shamila would be so happy if I did. Instead I asked, "And they're not?"
He looked towards the girl who was now shaking in fear. "It's life, dear. Nothing is black and white in reality. "
He pressed his gun to the girl's temple when he continued, "This one is the cause of so many deaths. " At the look on my face, he added, "Kashmiri deaths."
I gritted my teeth and said, "It doesn't matter. She doesn't deserve this. "
I should've known. By his smile, I should've known.
He shot the girl. "That's where you're wrong. "
He turned around and left me to witness someone bleed out to death because of me. Just because I thought being brave is always better than being a coward.
As the girl's last breath broke in her throat, I decided it wasn't.
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2 comments
Tough story to read, but well-written.
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Thank you!
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