Jan 14 2008
Faith
He stood there, amazed at what he just heard. “Do you have faith?” he had asked him. He thought he had anticipated every response, but not this. He paused, tried to remember again why he was here, to convince himself one more time that this was what was needed. Maybe this time he wouldn’t be able to do it, maybe this time he would finally withdraw. It didn’t happen, he solidified his intent even more. Flexing his jaw muscle and furrowing his brow he hoped and prayed his fear wouldn’t be visible.
He looked over at the chair in the corner of the room and slowly walked over. One more time he checked and tightened the rope around the hands and feet. Six times already he had done just that. Everything has to be in its place. He looked up at the ceiling and then out the window. Everything has to be in its place.
“Enough!” he heard as he was bending over to check the rope once again. He knew there wouldn’t be an eighth time and he looked down at the knife he had been holding the past few hours. He had used the same knife before, never keeping count as to how many times it had touched warm blood. He briefly wished he had, but decided it was better that he didn’t know.
He stood in front of the chair, his calloused right hand gripping the blade. Their eyes met briefly and he looked away, embarrassed as to why he had spent so much time on the tightening of the rope. He took another step closer, hunched over the chair, tasted his own tear as it rolled down the cheek, and solemnly choked out, “AllahUakbar!” and then proceeded to bury the knife into his son’s throat.
TB
Cambridge, MA
January 14, 2008