Before It Scars

I wrote this story because it brings to light everything that has been going on in this world recently. I would like to raise awareness of the impact of war on children, since my heart hurts for them.

• Religion
• Short story
• Spirituality & New Age
• Fiction

								
     A sudden scream awoke me from just outside my window. With drowsy eyes, and dressed in pink pajamas, I crawled out of bed and headed over to the only window in my room. From there, I looked back at my Hello Kitty alarm clock, and in red glowing numbers it read 4:56 am. Who could be outside playing at this time?

     I pushed the curtains to the side, and peeked right outside my window. There was nothing to be seen, just the dreary and lifeless night, staring right back at me. I laid my fingers onto the sill, it was as frigid as my dog Sage’s nose. It sent flutters throughout my body. It felt almost supernatural to be awake at this time, since my mom puts me to sleep at 8:00 pm.

     “We need to leave now, pack your things, Amina!” yelled my mom from the other room. The words were hard to make out, especially since the sun hadn’t risen yet and I was practically half asleep. From the tone of my mother’s voice, I knew something was going on, since we never leave this early to go anywhere. What was happening? Am I in trouble? Are we going on another vacation? As more questions grew in my head, I put them all aside to pack my backpack. In my backpack went in my teddy bear, gummy candies, and a brand new gifted hijab I hadn’t tried on yet.

     As I was deciding which of my other plushies to bring on our trip, my mom barged into my room. She looked at my packed backpack and back at me, and a displeased look spread across her face. Sage, our dog, trailed behind her and snuggled up against her leg. My mother gently pushed her away and looked the opposite way, ignoring her. To me, it looked like she was being insincere towards our dog, which was something I’ve been noticing for the past couple of days.

     “Amina, this is not what I meant by packing your backpack, you’ll need to leave all this stuff behind,” my mom said as she started to dig through everything and replace it with clothes.

     “Why can’t I bring my teddy bear?” I asked.

     My mother did not answer that question. I found it odd since I bring him everywhere with me and she is well aware of that. That teddy bear had been a gift to me for my sixth birthday, and ever since then for three years, I’ve been carrying it around everywhere I go. I even named him Bubbles. Bubbles was special to me, he was there during some tough times in my life. Bubbles was there when I got my first tooth pulled out. Clutching him in my hands made me feel the pain way less, almost like he had some sort of supernatural power to numb my gum.

     The more questions I asked about our secret trip, the more she seemed to be getting frustrated. I gave up trying to solve the mystery and followed her quickly to the kitchen. She told me to wait there and then she dragged in a few more suitcases filled with more clothing, blankets, and food, which could last someone days.

     As I was watching my mother pack most of our belongings into the suitcases, I heard more commotion outside of our apartment. This time it wasn’t the sound of a person, but it was sudden, almost like the sound of metal being hit by rocks, just more deafening. My mother stopped to look at me, and rushed to put on headphones over my ears. She put on a playlist of songs that I liked and then she quickly had us scurried out of our apartment doorway, along with Sage. Before locking up our door, she looked like she was taking one last look at our apartment, and tears started streaming down her face. Then, Sage, our six-month-old puppy, appeared in her arms, and she looked devastated. Sage could sense my mother’s gloom, and she started whimpering, slowly dropping her head.

“Why are you crying, Mom?” I asked her while tugging on her arm gently.

“It doesn’t matter, start picking up your bags,” she said while wiping away her tears.

“Where are we going? We’re coming back home, right?” I asked as I was starting to feel a little worried.

“Quit asking questions and make your way to the elevator already!” she shouted.

     Taking the elevator on our way to the lobby, my mother was in an odd sort of rush. She pulled out her car keys from her purse and was standing still like a tomb planted in a graveyard, facing the doors of the elevator. I decided to speak up again, and she quickly hushed me, putting her hands over my mouth, muffling my voice.

     As we reached the car, all I could think about was why she was behaving in that sort of manner. My mother had always been the joyful kind of girl, and minor inconveniences usually brushed past her. This was certainly not a minor inconvenience, and she hasn’t been this way since Dad had died. He had been diagnosed with what was called “cancer” as my mom explained to me. She took his death hard, and she went quiet for a few months, acting just as cold as she was now. Has my behavior been that bad lately? Is this her way of punishing me? The dreadful feeling of being in trouble started to sink in.

     My mother took a route that I’ve never been through before. This route was past the way to my school, and it was heading at some street that I have never seen before. Along the street, I could spot burned cars and flipped over trucks lying on the muddy road. The apartment and houses looked abandoned, and they looked like a bulldozer had crashed into the tops and sides of them. To my horror, I could see lying bruised and bleeding bodies piled on the side of the road. I quickly shut my eyes and fell into a light sleep.

     Moments passed quickly and we were already on the highway and illuminated signs led the way. One of the signs read ‘Hungary’. It wasn’t a place that I have been to before.

     We had been driving for a bit, and my mother offered to make a quick stop for some snacks and a restroom break. On our way to one of the convenience stores, I spotted many more lying bodies huddled outside from a distance. People were huddled with each other looking frustrated and seemed as if they were hiding from someone or something. Some looked like they were hurt, but the majority of them looked especially horrified.

“Mom, why do all those people look scared?”

“Everyone’s just going through a tough time right now, don’t worry about that. Now tell me, do you want the Pringles or the Lay’s chips?”

“The Pringles, please.”

     I couldn’t understand why my mother wasn’t helping these people, moreover why she was avoiding this conversation. She had been shutting me down ever since we got into the car. I felt frustrated and wanted to confront her about it.

“What is really going on, Mom?”

“Amina, just go to sleep, we can talk about this later.”

     I was about to give her a piece of my mind until not so far off from us, we heard a loud ‘boom’. This was followed by many more, one after another blasting into our eardrums. As the sounds were produced, gray smoke and glowing orange flames had risen up above the trees. The gray-ish foggy smoke was erupting from all over, blurring our vision on the road. The road was now barely visible due to the smoke, and everything was a blur. The fumes and the loud bangs were all too much for me, and I felt tears streaming down my face, because I was now scared to death. My mother turned her back to me and faced me.

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