Arabic Story with no title
“That better not be my pillow,” Said a voice creeping into Kaine´s sleep. The voice then proceeded to pull the pillow Kaine was currently resting his head on. “You raging bunghole bastard, it is my pillow! And it is now soaked in your drool, you are a cleaning this.” The voice threw the pillow at him.
Kaine’s eyes fought to open themselves up, but tiredness was a heavy gravity working against it.
“What time is it?” Kaine asked, stretching the sleepiness off and pushing the pillow away.
“3:30 and I’m already starving.” Coyle said joining the conversation. The room was fill with the morning scent of sweat and dirty boys. All around the room boys were starting to wake up, fighting the morning sleep.
“I still think waking up this early is not good.” Tern said as he put on his combat boots.
Kaine nodded, it was too early for him to have well-constructed thoughts. “You still need to clean my pillow, twat-head-dog.” Tent added firmly.
And with that, the day started.
FIVE YEARS AGO.
I feel numb.
I know I should feel a single shot of pain. I know I should be in plain misery, but it is like my emotions are unavailable now, like if they refuse to be felt. I feel dethatched from this reality. I don’t know where my mind is wandering off, but I can feel the coldness creeping through my soul; spreading insentience through my whole being.
My eyes scan the situation, the pandemonium is increasing, and I can´t move. My body is responding with a lethargic act, I don’t mind. My heart has been torn. I just want to sit here forever, until my body starts rotting, matching my interior. I hear an explosive near me, I don’t move.
“NO NO NO” My mother mutters between sobs. I see my father collapse beside her and I just stare at them.
“Please, no. Please.” My dad barely whispers, he keeps on kneeling. I see to my left, houses burning. I can hear a young boy crying for his mother, his cry is getting louder. I can hear gunshots around me.
“Come back, sweetheart.” My dad says while holding my little brother’s body.
“My baby, my baby,” My mom keeps on repeating, while stroking his hair. “They took my baby”
I lost my soul.
As I see how my mom and dad are bathed in my brother’s blood, while holding him. I know my perception of humanity has degraded. They took my baby brother. They took my laughter, the reason why I laughed. They took my fragile brother, they snatched his life. He would never grow old.
He would never grow old. Never.
My knees fall to the ground.