Within the Sins

?? White Excessive

Suddenly, Yazid loses it. He has absolutely no idea what is going on around him: the bedroom is dim, and he is even dimmer. He scrunches his nose in disgust; he needs mouthwash. His wound is begging for medical attention, and his legs are too stubborn to let him move. Using his good hand, he punches the wall over and over again and lets out a scream. Minutes later, he realizes there is a back hole in the wall and blood all over his hand—well, both hands now.

He screeches, gripping his hair in his hands and pulling at them. He releases a breath.

That's it.

He stretches his body as much as he can to reach for his phone, but he fails to grab it, one hand with bleeding knuckles and the other with a bullet wound.

He just could not help but hurt himself after glimpsing at Nader and Majed's bleeding bodies from five stories up. He deserves it—he is a killer.

No, no, I am NOT a killer. They brought it upon themselves, including Raneem.

He closes his eyes for a second or so, staring at the white ceiling once he opens them.

Creepily, a hiss slithers its way from his back up to his shoulders and then to his ears. Yazid flinches in place. A slithering touch dances on his arm, as if in hopes it could sway its leathery skin up his chest and around his neck.

Yazid jitters again and closes his eyes, shaking his head. There is no way something is on him. Absolutely not!

He pries one eye open. A forked tongue immediately reaches for his face. He pushes it away, but he does not feel anything as he does so.

He pants for oxygen, eyes wide open, sweat dripping down to his neck from his temple. Blood continues to drip from both of his hands, creating a small bloodbath around him.

"Si—siri, call Sa—" His body shakes, though his legs are still paraylzed; he is thankful the rest of his body is fine.

"Siri, call Sandra."

Siri does as told. Yazid continues to pant as his heart accelerates by the second. Finally, Sandra picks up.

"Sandra—Sandra, esmae'eni mneeh," Yazid says, his lips twitching, asking his sister to listen attentively, "it's coming after me. It's here. Please come, and bring baba with you."

Sandra responds confusedly, but she eventually hangs up when her brother does not respond.

This is it, is it not? Everything is over, and there is nothing he can do to fix things. Three people are dead because of him—no wait, they aren't dead because of me!

Three dead bodies. One injured man. A forked demon. Frozen legs. Dysfunctional lungs. Racing heart. Head spinning. Lips excessively dry, yet oddly wet at the same time. There's no way around any of this. It is over. He is over. There is no going back in time and changing things.

Yazid never meant to bow down to white powder or cigarettes. It just happened. It was that one day he tried to call his mother, but she would not answer. That was the tenth time he tried to reach her, the tenth time unsuccessful. He knew she still cared, but he did not know why she did not care to ensure him that she was okay. He is still not sure until this very night. He shakes his head at the memory. He was with Nader and Majed that day. They were already regular users, but he had never tried it before until Moutassem came over. He had told Yazid that he looked too distressed for a twenty-year-old and offered a free blunt. Yazid gagged as soon as he hit it, and Moutassem nodded in "understanding." He gave Yazid a different option, an option that sent Yazid to God's very own heaven (after coughing and cleaning his nostrils); no one would ever believe him, but Yazid saw Gabriel and Michael up there. He saw each and every angel his father told him about, and they welcomed him to their paradise of a home. And there was no going back from there. Only the likes of Lucifer would have rejected what Moutassem gifted him.