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She can feel another tear rolling down her face. She's lost count of how many tears she's shed now, or how long she's been sat here on these stairs. Although her heart's no longer beating out of her chest, her heartbeat still feels rapid and uncontrolled. She cannot see the kitchen from where she's at, but it doesn't make a difference. The scene she walked in on moments before keeps flashing in front of her eyes. She blinks, and a new set of tears start rolling. She doesn't even know what happened, just that they're both dead. It's too early to process all of it. Her mind's racing. Did Zara run off scared? But wouldn't she have come back for her? She just went to get water, right? What if...? No, she wouldn't have. Would she?
Her thoughts are interrupted by a Spanish policeman asking her what she's seen. More than "I walked in and they were dead" doesn't come past her lips. She even stumbles over those words. Did she see anyone else? "No." For a moment she hesitates. Does she tell him about Zara? But she doesn't even know where Zara was when it happened. She doesn't know where Zara is now.
"Thank you." The policeman walks off. Dazed off she only processes his words seconds after he says them. When she eventually does he's no longer there.
A new group of people arrive, dressed in white overalls. Body bags. Two stretchers and two body bags. She needs air, fresh air, all of a sudden she feels like she's suffocating. The walls are caving in on her. She walks, more like stumbles, out onto the terrace. More police, more detectives, more body bags. Fuck. She starts to panic. She looks to the body to her left. It's a man, she doesn't recognise him. A big AK47 lies next to him. Must have been security. Another body about twenty meters farther along the terrace's edge. She can't identify the person from where she's stood, but a large gun suggest another security guy. She just wants to know, no, she needs to know, that none of the other bodies are of people she loves. Her mum, her siblings, her uncles and aunties. Zara. She needs to know none of those bodies are hers.
Panic. She walks, but then she runs. She runs up the stairs, onto the larger main terrace. She'd gone to find her mum earlier, but had found her bedroom empty. She must've fled when she heard what was happening in the kitchen, her bedroom was right next to it. She spots a large group of people, no police, no detectives, no white overalls, in a corner of the terrace. It's her mum. Her siblings, she counts all five of them. Uncles and aunts, cousins, all too many to count. She's now walking, as relief washes over her. Some start saying, even yelling her name, "Aaliyah". They too sound relieved.
But her eyes are darting, scanning every single person in the group. Her mum, check, her sister, check, a family friend. Someone with long dark hair in the back, she cannot identify them. No, it's just a 'friend', not that she even has those.
As she reaches the group, her mum embraces her. Her mum's sobbing, clinging onto her for dear life. She takes one more glance at all the eyes around her. They're now all staring at her, most eyes red, glistening in the moon light, a mixture of shock and disbelieve. She's not here. Zara's not here. Her vision becomes blurry, hazy, tears are now streaming, gushing out. Is she dead? Did she...? Was she...?
"Is Zara dead?" No response. Maybe she whispered it. "Is Zara dead?" Once more, no response, but she's not sure anyone even heard her. A deep breath, she gathers herself. "Is Zara dead?!" It clearly was a shout now, her oldest sister rushing to her and laying a hand on her shoulder. "Besides dad and Ehsan, only security personel died." An even deeper breath, another sob. She's not dead. She's not dead. She repeats it at least twenty more times. She feels a rush of relieve come over her. Her shoulders relax just the tinniest bit. Her jaw unclenches as she quietly keeps sobbing. Her mum relaxes her grip on her, while her sister grabs her hand. She needs another hug, but not from just anyone. She needs a hug from the only person she's ever loved. Zara. If Zara's not dead then where is she?
To the people around her it must look like she's in shock. She's replaying the last conversation they had. The last time she saw her before this tragedy struck. She'd just wanted to feel loved one last time. The love between Zara and her had simultaneously felt earth-shattering, and heart-wrenching. She needed it that night, but Zara couldn't give it to her. "I just want to feel loved one last time." "You don't want that from me. You don't know me." "I know you." "You don't." Fuck. "You're kind." "I'm not." "You're honest." "I'm the furthest thing from honest." She'd ignored it. Zara was trying to tell her something, but she didn't care. She didn't care if she'd been lied to, she'd never felt loved before. She'd never cared for anyone this much. "Oh yeah, then what are you?" "Not what you think." "Are you my friend?" "Don't ask me that." "Are you?" "I don't know what the fuck I am." Fuck.
Zara loved her right? She'd felt the same right? Then where did she go. Why wasn't she here with her? Why would she leave, not talk to the police? Why wouldn't Zara make sure she was alright, she just lost her dad. She was in the kitchen right? There was no way she could've just wandered off the property. Especially not without knowing what had happened. She knew. She knows what's happened. Yet she left. She fled.
It slowly starts dawning on her. There's only one reason a person would flee a murder scene. "You don't know me." No one flees a murder scene unless they're guilty in some way. "I'm the furthest thing from honest." Slowly she feels her knees start to buckle. Her shoulders start to shake as her sobs grow. Her vision blurs then black spots appear. She feels her knees give in. Someone grabs her, just in time. "NO!" It is one last desperate call, one final attempt to make the truth go away, then everything goes black.