Malik Idris

My blood ran cold when I heard what happened. I had seen the most unimaginable things as a cop, there were many sleepless nights of just replaying the horrid images of bloodied bodies like a constant horror movie in the back of my mind. There were moments of weakness, where my heart would collapse on me as I thought about the lives that could have been saved.

Nothing prepared me for the news that had just came in, absolutely nothing. I thought I would be able to handle anything, my heart was hardened from years of death cases. I'd witnessed so much as an officer, from the most careless deaths to the most heartbreaking cries, yet I wasn't prepared for this.

Mr. and Mrs. Hollen were dead.

"Malik?" asked Cole as he turned on the road. "You're awfully quiet."

"They're dead."

His brown eyes darkened, jaw clenched."Trust me," he gritted out, "when I find this killer I'm going to make him wish he wasn't born."

"Cole, it's been weeks. Six people were murdered," I sighed, threading my fingers into my hair.

"I don't like it anymore than you do."

"You know what I don't get?" I asked, staring out the window. The killer was still out there, Sajdaa was far from safe. This was probably the closest encounter Sajdaa had with the killer, which surprised me even more.

"What?"

"The killer was so close to Sajdaa the entire night, he was outside of the house. He didn't kill her," I stated, theories running gears in my mind. "Why?"

Cole shrugged, "Maybe he wants to mind fuck us."

I blinked.

"What? It's an option on the table, man, don't judge."

"I'm judging a lot," I emphasized.

"Well, that's not very professional," he muttered under his breath.

"Cole, focus."

"I'm being serious. All throughout history, serial killers have a pattern of wanting to get as close to being caught without being caught."

I pondered his words for a moment, thinking back to notorious killers like the Axeman and Zodiac killer from the twentieth century. There was even the D.B Cooper hijacking, where D.B Cooper did the same thing without getting caught. The unsolved mysteries of many of those crimes had men who liked messing with authorities. It made me wonder, what if this killer was the same?

"Malik, I think we're looking at the wrong people. We need suspects other than Ethan."

"Ethan isn't the killer. We've established that," I stated, pointedly.

Cole rolled his eyes, gently steering into the parking lot of the hospital, where Sajdaa was currently at. "His other gang members? Someone must have seen it or security footages. There's no way he could cover his tracks that well."

"I put Nathan in charge of the Hollen home. Did you happen to get any new information off of Ethan?" I questioned.

"Yeah, I picked up the security footage from the area around and I need to run a license plate," he confessed. "After Ethan sold the drugs, the guy walked into a nearby alley where there was a car."

"So you have the plate number?"

"Well," he chuckled, nervously, "it's very blurry on the camera that caught it."

I groaned.

"It's fine! We can work with it. We have people at the department who could clear the image up some more."

I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back against the seat. "I hope so," I mumbled.

Cole gave me a sideways glance, his grip tightening on the wheel. His eyebrows furrowed, visibly stressed, but I could care less. I was eager to check on Sajdaa, to make sure she was safe, I needed that reassurance. Everything in the investigation was leading us to a dead end and the frustration was enough to make me pull my hair out.

The night was still young, the temperature had dropped a little, leaving behind a chilly breeze that replicated the coldness of the deaths. The hospital building stood tall and strong like it was unbreakable, a safe haven. For now, it was safe, but I couldn't guarantee that forever.

If Sajdaa's family stayed there, the killer would surely get by. I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that after I put the neighborhood on high security, the killer roamed outside the house the entire time. There were officers surrounding the house, yet he still slipped under their noses like the vermin that he was.

How was that even possible?

"Malik," started Cole, softly, "I'm sure she's okay."

She. Sajdaa was physically okay, but mentally, she was distraught. I knew she was because that's the type of person Sajdaa was, she cared. She cared for people like her life depended on it. Caring was her fatal flaw, it was what the killer was targeting. He was tormenting her, testing the waters with fear, and fear would be her greatest fall.

"She's not okay, Cole. She won't be until we bring justice," I whispered, closing my eyes. "She's hurt and we couldn't save that elderly Jewish couple. We couldn't save her uncle, her classmates, her sister in Islam. We allowed their blood to be spilled because our department won't take the cases seriously."

"What do you expect? She's a Muslim in a town that hates Muslims."

I opened my eyes, fire blazing through them from his words. "What the fuck is wrong with you? She's still a human being!" I yelled.

Cole flinched at my tone.

"I'm sick and tired of having our department being incompetent because of beliefs. We're the United States of America, the land of the free, and we allow things like this to happen to people we don't agree with," I hissed.

I was infuriated. I put the neighborhood on high security and my fellow officers allowed this guy to run free. I never realized that hatred erased morality. They despised Muslims so much that they forgot that the killer was targeting everyone that she knew, not just Muslims. There was no boundaries in death. It didn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints, death took all.

It constantly took people, it took everyone dear to me, and I was about to lose another one. I wouldn't allow that to happen, Sajdaa and her family would be kept safe even if I had to risk my life. They deserved that much and more.

Cole parked his car, coming to a stop. I heavily breathed, feeling the anger begin to subside from his silent surrender. I knew he wasn't sorry for his words. Cole was like all the brainwashed idiots in the world; he believed what he heard. That used to be me, but not anymore. I was done running away with no answers.

I opened the car door, putting one leg out when his voice stopped me.

"What changed, Malik?"

"I did."

* * * *

I stepped out of the elevator, turning the corner into the large hallway. The smell of sanitizers and clorox touched my nostrils, making me scrunch my nose, nonetheless I took cautious steps towards the room that was scribbled on my card. Nurses stopped and gawked at me, wondering why a police officer was walking through their halls.

I ignored their lustful gazes, knowing full well the intentions behind them. I made that mistake once and never will I make it again. Being with that one woman, all those years ago, was enough to bring a rupture back on my soul. One thing was certain, I prayed that Sajdaa never found out.

As I walked down the corridor, a slumped figure caught the corner of my eyes, and my steps came to a stop. Turning my body to the waiting room, I was met with Sajdaa's figure. She stood on top of a soft prayer mat, the intricate designs were simple yet unique with an overall ruby touch to it. She wore different clothes.

Her hijab tightly wrapped around her head, hiding away her hair. Sajdaa's small lips moved, mumbling words in a quiet whisper that were impossible to hear in the busy hospital. The computers beeped and voices talked behind me, chattering nonsense that didn't matter, but my attention was purely focused on her.

She bent down, before she rose up again a couple seconds later. Then, she sat on the mat, placing her forehead on the ground as her palms were flat against it. She was praying. I remembered this. Memories of my mother came to mind.

In Syria, my parents had told me about the importance of salah (prayer) in Islam. Praying cleansed the soul when one really put thought into it, almost like a small spiritual journey. I used to laugh at it, if God loved me, why did I have to suffer so much?

Without realizing it, my steps had taken me to stand right besides Sajdaa, whose body was now sitting upright, her lips kept moving and whispering. Her body tensed as she felt my presence, but she didn't remove her gaze from the floor. She stayed focus, putting her heart and soul into her prayer.

She sniffled.

Immediately, I noticed the tears that streaked her cheeks. Her chest heaved up and down, her eyes blinked the sorrows away, a lone tear dropping onto her hand. I wanted to reach out and hold her, comfort her, but I kept my hands to myself.

She needed this time alone, so I sat down beside her, waiting for her. She turned her head to the right and then to the left, signaling the end of her prayer. Cupping her hands, she began to whisper again, except this time I heard every word she spoke.

"Oh Allah," she murmured, "please save my family, protect them, keep them safe from those who want to harm them. Please help me, Allah. I beg You."

I was frozen to my seat, feeling tears well in my own eyes.

Her body shuddered. "Please, Allah. My family is all that I have, don't take them away from me. I-I don't want to be alone. I'm not ready for another loss," she continued, her voice shaky. "I'm not strong enough, but give me strength. Give me the c-courage that I need. Help me," she whispered.

Her words, they cut deep through me, piercing my heart. Was this what a believer sounded like? Is this what I've been missing my whole life? Everything that she said shook me on the inside, my hands trembled as memories clashed against my mind.

My parents bloodied bodies, their murderers' cruel smirks, my pain, my sins, everything came crashing back. My vision blurred. My breathing hitched and Sajdaa continued to speak in her soft tone.

"Help us all, ameen."

Her teary brown eyes met mine. I stared at her at lost for words, my hands itching to touch her and wipe away those tears, but I didn't. Her silence broke me even more, letting her previous words sink in.

Time seemed to stop, no words were exchanged. It was just us in the lonely waiting room. My hands laid limply on my thigh, my cheeks felt damp.

That was when her lips curled up into a sad smile.

My heart stopped. The grief that etched into her eyes had once scared me because I thought she would one day collapse from the stress, but now it was a different story. There was a glimmer of hope hidden behind the sadness in those dark brown eyes. Her cheeks were stained from her cries, yet she was still the most beautiful girl I ever laid eyes on.

"We'll get through this," she said, "together."

I believed her.

Assalamualaikum!

Guys, let's have a little heart-to-heart. Life is rough, it throws things at us unexpectedly, but don't lose your faith. Trust me, spirituality in any religion, is important because we hold onto that when we grieve.

So don't lose it.

All that aside, who else wants to give Malik a hug? Don't worry, his past will all be revealed soon. Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow!