Fan Fiction ❯ Rebus Knight ❯ Regrets and Sorrow ( Chapter 8 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Rebus Knight..........................by ConfirmTheOriginOfFire

Note: I am not anti-Semantic, anti-Israel, etc. Caution for strong material later in the story. If you don't understand certain aspects of the story, email me at Broccoliforest@aol.com and I'll explain it.

-Chapter Eight-

REGRETS AND SORROW

"What have you done?? No, no no!"

The Israeli youth looked up sharply. His expression was full of terror as Kashim pulled his gun and held the trigger down. The force of the gun almost threw him backwards again, but he stood his ground. Almost instantly, the young man fell, but Kashim followed him with the line of fire.

Mahmud rushed upstairs as fast as he could and saw a horrifying scene . . . Kashim, half-screaming, half-crying, while continuing to shoot the dead body of an Israeli, and Amira, stabbed and bleeding in the corner of the room.

"Kashim!" he exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder. "Kashim, stop! The noise will attract soldiers! Stop! He's already dead!"

Kashim threw the gun roughly to the floor and screamed out in agony. He ran to Amira and held her limp hand. She was already dead. He dropped to his knees beside her, and buried his face in his hands and cried loudly. "I'm so sorry, Amira! I'm so so sorry!"

Mahmud kneeled beside him, dirtying his jeans with bright red blood, still warm. He put his hand and his head on his best friend's shouler and cried also for his loss.

"I never got to say sorry for our argument," Kashim sobbed. "She died angry with me! I never should have been cross with her!"

"You didn't know, Kashim. You didn't know!"

"I should have, Mahmud, I just should have!"

Daylight was creeping in when Kashim and Mahmud finally wrapped a bedsheet carefully around Amira's broken body, and another over that of her killer. Then they used towels to clean up the blood. They burned these right after. There was not a towel left in the house, but Kashim didn't care. He would never use a towel that had been soaked in his sister's blood, even if it had been washed a million times.

Kashim considered dumping the Israeli body by the wayside, without a proper funeral. "No," Mahmud said firmly. "That isn't the Muslim way. It isn't our place to judge and dole out punishment for his offense. We will give him the funeral, and the judgement will be Allah's to make."

They went to Abdullah's house, to see if his family had heard the news yet. However, travel through the shadows and alleyways was necessary, for there were still Israeli soldiers milling about. When they climbed through a window to enter the house, they found another family instead.

"What happened?" asked Kashim. "Where are Imani and the girls?"

"Imani and her daughters were brutally murdered by Israeli settlers," one of the women choked. "And Abdullah was found slain by the wayside."

"No!" he exclaimed. "Sadakah!"

"Sadakah is nowhere to be found," said one of the men. "I heard Abdullah tell her to go summon the rioters, and nobody's seen her since."

"Do you think she could have been taken by the soldiers?"

"It's a possibility, but . . ."

Kashim and Mahmud were already out the window.