#Chapter9
/"Sandal! Listen. You have to identify Shoaib's body so we can complete the formalities and take them home. Okay? Everyone is waiting there. Your mother is waiting. We have to hurry./" Says a familiar masculine voice.
/"Let's go, Sandal./" Says a feminine voice.
White...
Red...
White sheets and red stains.
Bloodstained white sheets... as far as I see.
/"This way./" A masculine voice said.
In the corner, I saw bodies with their hands uncovered.
/"Sandal! Look, their hands. Can you recognize which one is Shoaib's?/" Someone asked me.
/"The third hand. It's... Shoaib's watch. But... why here? ... why does he have blood on his hand? What happened to his hand? Why.../"
/"Don't touch! He was shot in the hand and .../" a voice said.
My eyes shot open as I feel a sharp pain in my chest. Like someone had squeezed my heart. Clutching my bedspread, I sit straight, trying to calm my heavy breaths.