Sajdaa Taha

I ignored the burning sting that pierced the muscles in my legs, forcing my legs to lift higher than the last time, running faster. My breaths came out in short pants as I tried my best to breathe properly. I really should have listened to my cross country couch freshman year, I distastefully thought.

It was a horrible idea to run during the night especially with a serial killer on the hunt for prey. He was searching for me, stabbed Malik, and hungry for blood. I was supposed to be the final masterpiece, the finishing touch, the last petal from a wilting rose that would fall into the palm of his hand, quenching his thirst.

The thought alone made shivers crawl down my spine. Nonetheless, I made sure to keep my phone in a safe spot on my body just in case. If anything were to happen to me while I searched for the USB, then Ridwan had to know my coordinates. I wasn't naive to the horrors of this dunya (world).

Allah warned Muslims against those who lied so clearly that it became their truth. Allah warned against those who were hypocrites not only to their beliefs but to other people as well. Allah warned Muslims against the evils that lurked beneath the world, knowing there were a small handful of people that refused to accept help and turned their back on spirituality.

I pitied such people.

Life was so much more than war and pain. The world had chewed me up multiple times in the past, but I was always spit back out because Allah knew I had a purpose and that I was worth living another day. All the helpless souls that fell victim to a monster had already completed their purpose in life, and I would carry on their legacy by defeating the man that stole their life from them.

The familiar tall building of the police department caught my eyes. From the strict square windows, a couple of bright lights illuminated from within the small offices. Catching my breath, I jogged up the steps, telling myself to remain as calm as possible.

The police department was already wary of me. There was no reason to make them even more terrified of a teenage Muslim girl.

* * * *

Officer Nathan's office was nothing like I imagined. He was such a perky, overly excited young man who came off as a flirt most times, but his office reflected none of the colors he'd once shown me. Unlike Malik's office, the room was smaller, more condensed with papers stacking on top of multiple folders.

I walked closer. A small candle was lit at the corner of his desk, dust swirling around the ignited flame. The white wax dripped down the shaft, pooling at the bottom. Near the candle was a trash can filled with crisp pieces of paper, corners burnt to the core. I examined the burned materials.

They were pictures. A lot of pictures.

Gazing around the room, Officer Nathan pinned pictures of each victim and the people within their family. The pictures on the wall weren't surprising; it was the burnt photos that seemed off. On the middle of his desk were multiple photos much like the burnt ones.

An image of a woman, smiling and pouting at the camera sat at the edge of his desk. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown with auburn colored hair. Her lips were painted a bright red, tempting the male species to be at her beck and call. I tilted my head at the photos. They were the same girl and it seemed as if Officer Nathan was angry.

Ripped pieces of photos scattered around his desk, creating the illusion of frustration when it seemed more like heartbreak. No man went through this much trouble over one woman as beautiful as her unless she was the keeper of his heart. Unless she was the one who held his key, giving him the reality he feared: heartbreak.

"What the hell?" I whispered to myself.

A glimpse of another photo caught my eyes, except this one was different, only half burned. It was of the police chief. Anger boiled in my blood as I remembered the first time I met him. Half of his pale skin was burned off, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. It seemed like his hand was around another girl's waist, but the image was burned at that point.

A million questions raced in my mind, each more confusing than the last. Who was the strange red-haired woman? Why was Officer Nathan burning images of her and the police chief? What connection did the two of them have with Officer Nathan?

I looked closer at his desk, noticing the small wet spots on the case files. Tears. Officer Nathan was crying, but that didn't make sense. Those tear spots shouldn't have been wet now. It had been hours since he supposedly left, which meant they weren't Officer Nathan's tears, but someone else's.

Oh no.

On Officer Nathan's desk, there was a framed photo of the blonde chick, Mary Smith. Her genuine smile widened as Nathan held her close in his arms. His eyes were half closed as he laughed. Her arms wrapped around his neck, gazing at him with such ardor that it would melt any cold heart. And just like that the pieces fell into place.

Mary was Nathan's girlfriend. Mary was killed by the serial killer. I looked back at the burnt photos, at the unknown woman and the police chief. It was then that I realized the similar traits between Nathan, the police chief, and the serial killer.

Bright blue eyes, blonde hair, male.

All three fit the description.

Biting my lip, my eyes traced over each characteristic carefully. The serial killer had a motive. Nathan's motive would have been to avenge his girlfriend's death, but he couldn't be the killer if that was the case. Mary was the fourth and last real victim.

The rest that followed after were panic kills. I looked back at the police chief's burnt photo.

What did this guy have to do with anything?

He hated Muslims and from his reaction to the serial killings and the unknown text message, he was a typical white-washed American, a man who wanted to live in the past. I wasn't sure what personal connection he had to my uncle or to me to begin with, but the motive was there.

"Get there quickly before he gets his hands on them."

Could the 'he' possibly mean the police chief? I sighed. I should confirm with Malik, but first I needed the USB. Searching around the scattered mess, I found the small green light that was flickering from the computer, alerting me of the USB that was processing information from the computer.

I unlocked the computer screen, finding something that shocked me to the core.

My dear Sajdaa,

Did you honestly think you could escape me?

You may have managed to live this long, but I promise this will be the last time you see the world in the perfect picture because it is finally your turn.

There's no one left to protect you now. You're all alone with no one at your side. You're unguarded and completely vulnerable.

This is the end.

My breath caught at my throat as I felt an arm wrap around me. Before I could scream, a dirty cloth was placed into my mouth, suffocating me. I coughed, thrashing in the arms of my captor, twisting.

My vision was getting hazy, foggy as a drug screamed in my mouth. The taste was poisoning my lips and I fought the urge to panic.

His lips came close to my ear, making me shudder even though my hijab was on. "Night, dear Sajdaa," he rasped. "May you wake up to suffering."

Then the world went black. I'm too late.

Assalamualaikum!

Brownie points for anyone who figures out the murders now with the new information.

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