It was raining hard that day when Ahmed realized how cold the muddy ground he was lying on. His sight was all blurry and his breathing was getting as difficult as ever. The painful wound on his right arm seemed to be doing its intentions. He knew it, deep in his heart, it was about to happen. He could already feel the end coming.
But a part of him knew that such things were long been inevitable.
Gathering all his strength and his long-barreled war companion on the side, Ahmed slowly crawled over the thick mire, taking the pain out of his mind. It was only then he saw a trunk of a fallen tree, shrouded by bushes and shrubs. He knew it in himself that he had to hide. Somehow, he still wanted to think about everything he had done, even before.
Leaning on the rotten wood, he closed his eyes and let the darkness cover his sight.
It was a long time ago but he could still remember the feeling of being complete, together with his mom and dad. They had a simple life in the fields, treating everyday like there was no end. His mother, who took care of him back then, had never missed on making him feel loved. He had always liked seeing his mom paint her precious smile especially the way her eyes sparkled with bliss every time he touches her cheek. Those moments when he couldn’t ask for anything more, he would never forget it.
He had never forgotten it, not even once.
"By the heart, the tongue, the hand, or the sword."
He began to remember the first time he met those words. It was ten years ago, back when he was still a young lad. Those were the words of what they were taught as Jihad, a duty that they were believed to fulfill, and the words that had kept reminding him on how he struggled everything just to survive the blight of this cruel world.
The heart.
He remembered the day when his mother left him and his father. He was crying hard that time, trying to stop his mom from going away. He almost dragged himself on the floor while weeping but it seemed that he couldn't do anything more.
And what really got him was the way he didn't saw any emotions coming from his mother’s eyes. No bliss. No joy. It was as if she was not the woman he had come to loved. It somehow made a question in his mind, if he really had a place in her heart.
The tongue.
If he could just spill the words running in his mind every time he saw his dad intoxicating himself every night, maybe it could’ve gone better. If he could just tell him that he would always just be there to look after him, even when his mother left, maybe something would’ve change. If only he just told him those words even once, maybe he wouldn’t saw him give up, lying on the floor with foam coming from his mouth.
The hand.
It was raining hard that day when Ahmed realized how alone already he was. He had nowhere to go and no one to hold on. His mind was filled with anger, longing, and grief. He left home not knowing where his feet would take him.
“Isn’t it cold walking in the middle of the rain?” he heard someone said.
He looked behind him and saw a man in black mask wearing a gray shirt and faded denim pants. It was when the rain suddenly stopped. The bright sunshine, in the way he saw it, made the man seemed to glimmer. He could still remember the feeling that he had back then.
He was relieved.
“Come with me.”
Riding a motorcycle, Ahmed came along with him. They had gone across roads and went inside a deep forest, making him feel slightly dreadful. But somehow he knew deep in his heart that he wouldn’t be hurt. The sun was about to set when they reached a somewhat like a camp. There he saw other men wearing black masks too. They had rifles in their backs and were all looking at them.
“Welcome to your new home.” The stranger said.
The sword.
Years came fast and Ahmed grew into a young man. He got to meet other youth like him who were also brought in the camp. Together they were trained in using guns and rifles and were also taught about the group’s Islamic beliefs. They were indoctrinated about waging war against enemies of Islam.
“If you die in the combat, you will be a martyr and have a place in paradise.” Their leader once said.
He also became one of the best warriors in their legion. He gained the admiration of their leaders for his expertise in using arms. It was the fruit of his years of hard work and courage.
At last, the war has begun and here Ahmed was, hiding behind a rotten tree trunk.
His head was starting to get heavier and he could barely come up with his breath. He could also feel the wild beating of his heart deep inside his chest. It has been years but he got to realized something in his mind.
After all the things he had been through, he never asked anybody not even once, why everything had to happen. He was not sure but maybe somehow, somewhere in his heart, he still believed that there was a higher being looking on him.
“Was it that painful to be in paradise?” he thought.
He held his rifle within his arms making him remember the times he used it in on other people. He felt ashamed of himself. This was not the thing that he wanted to do. He never dreamt of anything greater. He only just wants one thing.
"I just want to live." he told himself.
The rain stopped as tears began touching the rifle's metal body. The wound that he got from the airstrike felt nothing from the pain that he had before it happened.. Later on, the sun began to spread its light capturing his sight.
“We met again…” Ahmed said as he closed his eyes.
Before giving his last breath, he remembered the two people he aimed his weapon in this war. He didn’t pull the trigger, not even once. Not on the back of a clueless soldier and not on the familiar look coming from an old woman.