Sajdaa Taha

Alisha and I stood over Ridwan, watching as his fingers typed in more codes, the numbers blurring. Sections and sections of unknowing numbers and letters filled the page, my brother's hungry eyes absorbing it all in. I exchanged glances with Alisha, who looked as confused as I did.

"Ridwan, I doubt this is going to work especially after so many tries," I frowned. "There has to be another way to find him."

A voice cleared behind us, and we all turned to see Dad. "Perhaps, you should track the locations of all the killings," he suggested, handing me a file. "Officer Cole left this for you guys."

I opened the file, skimming through the smiling faces of all the victims. There was nothing suspicious of most of the killings because the bodies were transported to a different location after being tortured. Well, that's just great, I thought. I'm chasing a serial killer that's smart. Why am I not surprised?

I sighed, running a hand down my face. The stress was getting to me, and the ongoing fear of Hamza's life was like a ticking bomb inside my head. At any, second the bomb would blow and I would be left without a little brother. Time was valuable. The more we wasted, the slimmer the chance of Hamza coming out alive was.

Oh Allah, please let him be okay just a while longer. Help me figure out who took him. I can't lose him, Allah. I need my little brother. I need my family.

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I gazed into my father's dark brown eyes, glazing with tears. "Don't lose faith," he said softly as he glanced around the room to Alisha, Ridwan, and I. "Those who put their trust in Allah are surely the ones who are never disappointed. Do your part and Allah will do His."

"But will it be in time is the question," I said. "Will we save Hamza in time or just his body?"

The air in the room became thicker, harder to breathe. Weights laid heavily on our shoulders, dragging our weak forms down as we tried to push up. Avalanches of confusion fell, crashing our mentalities, but there was still a part of me that firmly believed that some good would come from this madness.

"In Shaa Allah (if God wills it), we will," stated Ridwan, firm in his belief. "We just have to try our hardest."

Dad wiped under his eyes, gently brushing his tears off. I knew my mother was still in prayer, hoping for a miracle to save her baby boy. She didn't wail or scream, but her body would shake in silent sobs. It had taken a toll on my father because even he looked weary in an effort to care for our family.

He turned to leave, but I stopped him. "Can you help us, Dad?" I asked, gently.

Inhaling a deep breath, he nodded, walking towards Ridwan. A look of determination crossed his face. "Sajdaa, look into the locations," he commanded.

"Our uncle died in his house. It was the least brutal compared to the other victims," I said as I tried to ignore the familiar tremors of my tear glands from looking at my uncle's picture. The killer had stripped my uncle's children from growing up under their father's protection. His wife was stripped of a lifetime of love, raising her children alone in the harsh eyes of society.

"That means there was a personal connection there," mumbled Alisha quietly, the gears in her mind turning while she formulated a theory. She was good at those. "The killer had a personal feud with your uncle, which lead to the killings originally."

Ridwan furrowed his eyebrows. "If it was personal with Uncle then why continue? I'd assume if you kill someone because of a feud, once they're dead, everything gets sorted."

"Unless there is another motive," added Dad.

Alisha nodded, fixing her hijab pins as she spoke. "Didn't you say he targeted Muslims, Christians, and Jewish folks?" she questioned.

"Yeah."

"How badly were they killed?"

I looked back into the other victims' papers. "Uncle, the Muslim girl, Dylan, and that blonde chick all had scars on their faces. But Dylan and the blonde girl had the eerie smile cut, meaning those two murders were the most brutal. Mr. and Mrs. Hollen were killed by gunshots along with Jay."

Dad pondered, pacing across the room and mumbling the words I had just said. "Mr. and Mrs. Hollen were killed because you and Hamza were there," he stated, "which means they weren't supposed to be killed like that. It was in a state of panic for the killer because he couldn't get to them."

"But he needed Sajdaa to fear him," finished Ridwan, slightly horrified at the new revelation.

"But why me?"

"There's something about Sajdaa that he's been targeting from day one," acknowledged Alisha. "Do you have any people that really hate you?"

I snorted. "You mean this whole town?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Not helpful," she muttered.

I glanced back at the files, spreading each case paper on the table adjacent to where Ridwan was sitting. Laying out the sheets, I examined the contents with my father behind me, who was doing the same thing.

"We're missing something," I whispered to myself.

Then a light bulb went off in Dad's mind as his eyes suddenly brightened up. "The killer has something against Muslims, specifically."

"That makes absolutely no sense," I commented, clearly confused on how he got to that conclusion. "There's a wide variety of religious people being killed here."

"I have to agree with Sajdaa, Dad."

Our father shook his head. "No, I mean look closely at the killings and the notes that came with them. We've already established that Mr. and Mrs. Hollen were killed from panic because they were protecting Sajdaa. It would be unwise to kill Sajdaa when there were adult witnesses involved."

"Are you telling me that was the day he marked for my death?" I asked, my eyes widening at the realization.

"Yes, but he couldn't do it with the Hollen couple there as witnesses, so he decided to scare you," continued Dad. "That's why Jay died too. He was a threat to the killer's identity."

"So they only died to protect the killer's identity," repeated Ridwan, slowly as if trying to process the new information. "What about the first four victims? They have nothing to do with that. Two Muslims and two Christians."

"Only the Christians had the eerie smiles, right?" questioned Dad.

I nodded. "Yeah, only them- Oh."

Realization hit me as Dad tried explaining to Ridwan and Alisha. "When people have a personal connection to the victim, usually the killing is less brutal. Your uncle's death," he paused, squeezing his eyes shut as if he were in pain, "it was horrible, but there was no eerie smile in either of the Muslim deaths."

"Do you think he was trying to send us a message?" asked Ridwan. "Specifically to Sajdaa."

Dad's face turned grim, a cloud of darkness engulfing him. "Not only a message, but he has her marked for death. A death in cold blood with no regrets." My father's eyes were swirling with pain; I could only imagine the painful way his heart must have squeezed. His only brother-in-law was murdered in his home. His eldest son was stabbed. His youngest son was missing, and his daughter... I was marked for death, a kill so disturbing that I was the last one for the killer.

Parents endured many trials for their children, carrying all the burdens just so their child could live a successful life. It didn't matter how many times that child disrespected them or how many times that child pushed their parents down to the bottom pit of sorrows, their parents would always love them. A parent's love was unconditional, pure, and full of care.

That was a true love.

It was a love that no one could break, a bond too strong for mistakes, a hope that never tethered into nothingness. That type of love was as sturdy as the tallest building in New York City, and nothing as powerful could ever replace it. Allah had created that love for everyone because when times were rough, our families were the shoulders we cried on. When everyone else abandoned us, my family was there for me.

Alisha's dark eyes kept staring at the blonde girl's file, never straying from the note that came with it. I read the name. Mary Smith. Well, that's totally not a stereotypical white name.

"Is something wrong?" I asked her.

She nodded. "I think there's a deeper and much more personal meaning to all this. It's not just about religions."

"Then what?" I questioned.

Just as she opened her mouth to answer, my phone rang, dragging everyone's attention to the annoying device that sat proudly on the empty space beside Mary's file. I quickly answered after seeing Officer Nathan's name on the caller ID. Glancing at the time, I realized that something was terribly wrong. Malik and Officer Cole should have been home by now, I thought.

"Hello?"

"Sajdaa! Something terrible has happened!" exclaimed Nathan, sounding out of breath. "I need you to-"

I heard sirens wailing in the background. "Nathan, what did you do?" I harshly asked, worried for Malik's life. "What happened to Malik and Officer Cole? Are they alright? Nathan, answer me!"

"No time for that. You need to listen very carefully. Malik and Cole have been stabbed-"

"Nathan, why did you send them there?" I yelled, fear consuming my thoughts. Malik could be dead. He might die. My Malik was stabbed. Malik was hurt, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. Too much information was being spilled like a jar of spoiled specimens, ruining everything in its path.

"Sajdaa!" yelled Officer Nathan. "I need you to listen carefully. I followed them and there's something terrible I need to confess to. Go to the police department and get the USB plugged into my computer. Get there quickly before he gets his hands on them," he rushed.

"Who's the he?"

"Go now! If he gets it, there's no way of winning the court case. Sajdaa, hurry!" urged Officer Nathan as he hung up.

I had no time to question anything. I could only assume that the killer was the 'he' that Officer Nathan kept referring too. I had to get there and fast; otherwise, this might be the end to my tragic tale. It would be all of our ends and the killer would win, holding his bloody crown in his scarred hands. He would continue the madness.

Without thinking, I ran out the house and towards the department. The cold air slapped against my skin, freezing the tan into a pale color that matched the sky. My stomach churned, flipping from the adrenaline pumping my veins. The night sky was void of any stars, the glint covered by looming clouds large enough to devour any light. The invisible spikes pricked my arms as I tried to ignore the goosebumps forming on my skin.

I heard the howls of wolves as they stalked their new prey. The killer was stalking me, I knew that, yet it didn't hinder my determination. My eyes were filled with images of blood and gore, covering the walls of my bedroom if I failed. No more deaths, no more heartbreak.

I turned my GPS signal on for Ridwan to track me in case anything happened. USB, I thought, I need to find that USB. 

Assalamualaikum!

I saw everyone's theories last chapter :D I am impressed and can't wait to see your reactions.

Any thoughts on the previous murders and how each case relates to Sajdaa? My parents keep asking me when I'm gonna publish my books and I'm like ._. I'm scared of rejection.

Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow!