To be, or not to be: That is the question-Band Of Brothers

I exist. In thousands of agonies, I exist

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Kiran's feet ached, her heels digging hard into the soles of her feet with every pounding step. She couldn't feel the pain or the bleeding of torn flesh. She was running—running as fast as she possibly could.
As fast as fear could carry her.

Zineb was ahead, just a blur now, her coat flapping in the cold wind.
Kiran was chasing her.

They'd just gotten off the subway.
Both of them were crying no, they were both sobbing.

It was December 7th, 1941—the day everything changed.
And they were trying to get to Amy's house as fast as they could.
Her family had a telephone.
The Mateks didn't.

"Zineb, wait! Please—wait!"

But she didn't. She couldn't.
Neither of them knew what had happened to James or William.
All they could do was wait by the phone, hope it would ring, and pray that the voices on the other end would be the ones they loved.
Maybe they'd be okay.
Maybe they'd call.

Oh Allah, let them be alright. Please, oh God—please. Let my brothers be alive. Let me see them again.

Zineb reached the apartment first, her keys shaking as she shoved them into the lock.
She flung the door open and disappeared inside, her movements frantic, unhinged.
Kiran could hardly keep up.

Her brother might be dead, the love of her life might be fucking dead.

Zineb flew up the stairs, two at a time.
Kiran followed, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Ya Allah, Ya Allah... La ilaha illa Allah..."
(Oh God, oh God... There is no god but God.)

Her chest pulled in a thousand different directions.
She couldn't breathe. Her head throbbed, pain blooming behind her eyes.
She wanted to scream.
To tear her skin from her bones.
To fall onto the floor and never get up again.

When Kiran reached Amy's front door, it stood wide open.
The hallway air felt colder than the street.

She stepped inside.
Step after step.
Her hands were ice. Her feet numb.
Everything was too loud and too quiet at once.

She reached the kitchen.

There, crumpled on the floor, was Veity, sobbing.
Her shoulders shook, her mouth open in a soundless wail.

Kiran had never seen her sobbing before.
Not once.

Next to her knelt Amara and Femi, their faces pale and soaked with tears.
Only Femi looked up.
Only she met Kiran's eyes as the door creaked open.

Her gaze was hollow.
Empty. Like death was reflecting itself in her eyes. Kiran should have known, should have felt it.

"They haven't called. They haven't said anything..." Femi croaked, her voice cracking like brittle glass.

Kiran just stared at her, frozen.

If they hadn't called, something must have happened.
They wouldn't leave them hanging like this.
James would never allow it.

Zineb was by the phone, her fingers frantically dialling, each call more desperate than the last.
Amy sat on the ground beside her, pulling at her hair, her head thudding against the wall behind her—again and again, each thud like the heartbeat of the room.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.

Zineb was lost in a world of her own, biting her nails, tugging at her hair—twisting it into knots.
The line went dead. She dialled again.
And again.
And again.
And again...
It didn't matter. The numbers blurred. The sound of the phone's dial tone was the only thing left.