A Pakistani Boy`s Fate

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Follow Me It was the life most boys from my area were forced into; living in this region of Pakistan we are susceptible to these kinds of pressures. We did not have much choice in how we live our lives; either follow the leader or die. My mom and I moved here after my father was killed. He was a suicide bomber. Because he died for the cause and he was an obedient follower we were taken care of. Since I was the youngest of six boys the rest were already recruited and I haven’t seen them in years. Some of them dead or probably imprisoned. It had crossed my mind that I would come to the same cross road that everyone else had, but I did not like thinking about it. It was a death wish… I know that I am suppose to believe in this stuff, that dying for the cause will secure your spot in heaven. I would rather earn my place their by hard work than by sacrifice. I have been working in the yards of some of my elderly neighbors; the earth is dry and rough. We haven’t seen moisture in weeks; the air is a dead heat that stiffens you everywhere you move. I would love a cool place to go so maybe I could get rid of my lingering headache from the constant heat. We do not even have shade under trees because we have no trees in this small little crappy town. Ever since the split with India some fifty years ago all these little towns have not been taken care of in any shape or form. I was originally from Karachi but after my fathers death and our realization of the reality of our world we moved, hoping that maybe my life could be spared. I may only be nine years old but you learn a lot quickly when you become the man of the house. My cousins had received the highest of educations for people of this time and had moved to London, England to b... ... middle of paper ... ...irty minutes later my mom came home and found me hiding under my bed sobbing. She had already seen the body and could assume what had gone on. She wasn’t going to ask questions, she knew I fought for her. She also knew that this was the sort of reason she was waiting for to leave Pakistan. Mom immediately got my uncle on the phone to get the plans underway. We would have to leave within the next day. Any longer and we would be dead too. We won’t tell our families why we are leaving and know one will know we have gone until we are well on our flight to London. We will cross the boarder into Afghanistan, than be on the earliest flight to Istanbul than London. We will vanish from this life and never have to worry again. The image of Aaqib's eyes will haunt me forever, but I have to remember that it was he or I and that I will now get the life I have always dreamed of.

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