It had only been seconds since the masked boy had revealed the weapon but it seemed like hours had passed as I contemplated what to do, but before I could make a choice He thrust the sharpened knife towards Jamal, it penetrated straight through his layers of clothing, the razor-sharp blade pierced through Jamal’s flesh with ease, almost with the same ease it would take for a knife to pierce through a rubber ball and deflate it, just like it was deflating Jamal, he now looked lifeless. Gasping for the smallest of breaths, in agonising pain. I still couldn’t help him, I wanted to but my legs seemed to be cemented to the ground refusing to move towards Jamal. I kept telling myself it was too late and there was nothing I could do so it would be useless to risk my life at this stage, but I knew it wasn’t, I was in denial, I was a coward, a traitor and a wimp, everything Jamal wasn’t. I was letting him die. It may aswell have been me driving that knife into him. Moments later as his body slowly declined to the ground parting him from his attacker who had released his grasp from the knife leaving it embedded in Jamals stomach. There we were, the three of us within close proximity of eachother not knowing what was going to happen next or what to do next as if we were waiting for instructions on a movie set, Jamal still lay on the ground dampened by the slight drizzle of rain. Stationary. His blood slowly dripping from his jacket to the ground landing into the pool of water, diluting it.
His attacker seemed agitated and filled with fright, the atmosphere was tense and filled with hostility, I became apprehensive as I didn’t know whether I would be his next victim he looked at me intently thinking of what to do next, but the sounds of footsteps nearby prevented made him distressed, as he feared he would be caught, I turned to see if someone was approaching, as I turned back around he had gone. Even though the attacker had gone I was still afraid to approach Jamal, i began walking towards him hesitantly trembling with fear and anxiety, bending down slowly towards his body to pro long the inevitable as I knew his was dead. I was right he was completely motionless, drained of life the ground covered in his blood whilst the knife stood there, the blade resting in his body. I was filled with shock and disgust, disgusted in myself for not helping Jamal, I had let him down, I had let myself down. As the guilt ran through my body I felt regretful and shameful, I had been dishonourable to our culture, were it’s almost considered as a kind not to help one of our own brothers. We had been through so much since we fled from Nigeria as Refugees in 10 years ago, If it wasn’t for his family I wouldn’t have escaped. On a night just like this my parents were slaughtered by the remorseless militants, Jamal’s parents rescued me, bringing me along with them as they fled the country. I felt as if I owed Jamal my life, he had saved mine on countless occasions but yet the one time he required my aid I deserted him. A million questions scampered through my mind at once, What would I tell his parents? How would they react? As I became lost in my own world of speculation I noticed Jamals mouth slightly move, he was attempting to say something. I throughout all other thoughts and focused my concentration on what he was attempting to say. His lips were pale, colourless, there was no vitality left in his face. Urging him to speak I started to cry in hope that he may still be alive, he began to cough blood making it evident any words he produced now were likely to be his last. I stared in his eyes and like his attackers they were now filled with Hate, rage and frustration but most importantly disappointment. Slowly opening his mouth to speak, I was filled with anticipation, he then uttered....
Why?
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