We're Never Fast Enough

We're never fast enough.

I screamed as I watched the rocket hit the ground, taking out Uncle Khalid. The force knocked me off my feet as my screams got muffled by the sound of the bombing, and my ears went deaf. Grey clouds almost covered the bloodstream that used to be Uncle Khalid's. When the smoke diffused away a bit, and my ears had gotten working again, I could see the children my age wailing while their bodies were coated in blood.

Red was my least favourite colour. My eyes witnessed it everywhere I went. Our waters were red, our streets were red, our country was red. We were red.

I didn't realise I was crying until Baba came to pick me up. I held onto him as he repeated the same words he always said.

"It's okay 'habibti', we'll make it out of here 'bay izin Allah'."

He was the only family I had left. I couldn't lose him too. Mama was red, 'Akhi' was red, and I knew Baba and I were next.

We had to make it to Turkey or we wouldn't survive. And so we walked, for miles and miles. When my legs got tired, Baba would pick me up and carry me. It would've been easier if he hadn't lost his hand, but Baba didn't like to show when he was weak, so he kept pushing, and so did I.

When night fell we stayed in one of the bombed buildings, it fell apart, but at least there was roof over our heads. I looked at my wrists, arms and thighs, and realised that I've gotten way thinner. All the walking and not eating has gotten me starving. I wish I could taste Mama's Kebab or Hummus again. I wish I could see Baba play with Ahmed, 'Akhi', again. But the light slowly disappeared from Baba's eyes every day.

I heard a faint sound of something in the air and my heart immediately pumped faster. I look at Baba as soon as he grabbed me and started running.

But we're never fast enough.

The first bomb fell behind us. The charge pushed us forward. I managed to fall on my hands. Coughing, I wiped the blood streaming on my ankles and called for Baba as I heard a second explosive not too far from here. I think it hit a hospital nearby.

"Baba?" No answer. I panicked.

"Baba!" I yelled, trying to look through the smoke, "Baba!"

The exhaust on the smoke spread out and I began to see a faint image of Baba, he was there on the floor. His head was bleeding. He was red.

"Baba! Baba!" I ran to his side, "Baba!"

I tried shaking him, slapping him, yelling at him but nothing worked. I shrieked and choked while crying. I felt a group of people enter from behind me. A woman started comforting me and brought me to her chest.

"It's okay. It's okay we'll get you out of here. You're safe now."

I stared at the people that came in, volunteers from a refugee camp. They were carrying Baba somewhere. They were going to bury him.

I submerged myself into the woman's hold and wept. I didn't want to be here, I wanted to be with Mama and Baba and Ahmed. I was living a hell and they were up there somewhere together.

But I had to keep going, for all of them.

I opened my eyes and looked at the sky, and slowly but surely, I began to see Baba's smile.