Farouk looked up at the small patch of sky above him. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. The small wiry man finally finished carefully strapping the explosives to his body. A large t-shirt and hooded jacket was thrown at him from the doorway. Farouk pulled the clothes on cautiously aware that one wrong move now could bring his comrades to an early death. But Farouk didn’t particularly care about the others. He took his time to walk out of the small apartment. There were only three other people there, the wiry man and two big brutes who were there to ensure that Farouk completed his mission without any complications. Farouk was outside on the dusty street now. He gazed back at the block of apartments; the small court yard he’d been sat in just minutes ago was invisible from the outside. He longed to be back there but there was no turning back now, the clock was ticking.

The explosives weighed him down causing him to walk slower than usual. But he reached the town centre without any issues. He leaned against a small faded grey building. Glancing around the open space he guessed there were about fifty people milling about, talking, laughing, not knowing that it would be the last time they would do so. Farouk sighed and peered up at the sky for the last time before staring at the dusty ground beneath him. “What am I doing?” He thought to himself. He’d abandoned his family just to prove that he could be independent.” Why did I have to be so naive?” His family attempted to flee the country weeks ago and as far as he knew they were in Europe now. But he didn’t want to bolt. He didn’t want to be called ‘immigrant’ or ‘refugee’ for the rest of his life. So he joined the rebels. He was a mindless fool. The look on his father’s face when he left still haunted him.

Farouk was terrified of what was about to happen. He’d never been afraid of death until now. He wanted to turn and run, but where to? He would still die. Even if he didn’t die where would he go? He’d be a traitor to the rebel cause. They’d hunt him down and publicly execute him with the others. He didn’t think twice when they’d said that he would most probably die before the end of the year. But now death was approaching him quickly and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Mabey if he ran he could prevent the death of all these people. No, he couldn’t do that. He’d already lost the love and pride of his family. He couldn’t fail his new family. He would stay, face his fear of death and make the rebels proud. He’d failed too many people already. He felt the seconds ticking down. There was barely a minute left till his untimely death. It would be all-over the news ‘Boy of fifteen kills innocents’. He wanted to run. But his fear had petrified him, he couldn’t move a muscle. Farouk did the only thing he could. He prayed. He prayed for one thing only that his family were safe. Then he just stood and waited for the darkness to come before the light.