The crack on the wall

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The crack on the wall

The crack in the wall is leaking again and I can hear water dripping on the floor it will eventually stop I hope as I look towards the window from where the full moon shone bright as a bulb in the sky. The lights are out as they have always been since the past 4 years .I is calmly seated on an old wooden chair and across me is an empty couch. Silence now haunts this room and I am waiting for him to come out. I can feel the dampness of the sewerage smell around me. Mid July heat can be very exhausting as I look at the figure approaching me from the other room. Across me now stands another individual that I have known for quite some time now but lately he stopped talking to me, he ignores my existence as I rot in this place for a woman who peacefully sleeps in the room he came from. I am tired and haven’t slept for a while, I envy the woman for sleeping whist I am awake yet I have grown amusingly accustomed to my state of half-awake and half asleep. My throat is dry and I could use water but he lets me starve now until I admit my mistake but I am too arrogant to do so. I manage to utter a statement in my deep raspy thirst stricken voice “don’t you see Hassaan she was just using you?” Trying yet again to convince him that I was right. He collapses on the couch with his head deeply embedded in the cushions and cries. I could hear him out of breath and waling in despair and agony. I fail to comprehend what is going on with him after all I did him good, I was his friend and that’s what this bond is all about-to be with each other and to eliminate any danger that comes between this special bond. His hands are colored with dry blood but I can still smell sweat and iron in the air, he gets up and walks to the window looking at the moon. He tries opening it but its rusted enough not to open as I see him try in utter failure. Being locked up in this house for someone who was so used to freedom can be frustrating and his eyes again filled with tears as he tried hard to make eye contact with me. On his cheek I could see the tear drop shining as the light of the moon illuminated it. He makes his way again to the room where she lays now…perfectly still in her white night gown. It’s stained red from the chest but she looks peaceful. After all her attempts to break our bond she had it coming. On the table lay a purplish mass covered now with dust and insects. Its funny how this tiny mass still beated for some time when hassaan took it out. He walks up to me again and sits opposite and looks me in the eye. I ask him “are you okay Hassaan?” And to which I get a reply “why did you kill her with my hands Ali?” “Why did you take her heart out with my hands?” This was not the reply I was expecting and since I didn’t have the strength to say out loud I got up and move close to his ear and whispered “because all of us need to move on. I won’t let anything tear us apart. ” and with this I couldn’t help but give out a mocking laugh. He looks me in the eye again and I knew exactly what was on his mind and so as he got up to pick the glass shard from the ground I set back on my chair and puffed as he stuck it in his gut. Once…twice…and the final blow thrice.
He is dead now and across me is the empty couch and his body lying on the floor, the mid July humid is exhausting and the lights are out. I want to sleep but the crack in the wall is leaking again.

Idea taken for the story by Hassaan Ahmed

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