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Silent Hour

He scrapes another line on the table. This was his fourth, he needed to feel confident. Not to regret what he’s going to do next. As he sniffs the powder into his nostril, Bakri is crying across the room, he is thinking about the life he’s going to leave behind. His family, his friends, and the life he was born in – blessed with luxury and wealth. He weeps but doesn’t make a sound. His mouth is stuffed with a dirty towel, duct taped all around his head. He can barely sniff air into his nostril, and he aimlessly tries to break free of the cuffs that arrests his hands. “Tonight, you meet your maker. You fucking piece of shit. You will never walk another day in this Earth again.” Joe murmurs. He sits in front Bakri, and carefully places the leash around his neck. “Tonight, you’re going to realize that all this time, you pretty much took life for granted.”

As he tightens the cable around Bakri’s neck, Joe reminisces what drove him to this point.

‘baby theres something urgent I need to tell you call me’

…The message made him anxious; he quickly dialed Naomi’s number. He called three times, and, no answer. He was getting impatient, and he tried again, after the sixth tone she picks up. “Hey baby, what’s up?” he calmly spoke. There was an awkward silence, until he could only hear crying. “Baby, what’s wrong? What’s wrong baby?” he said. She continued crying, the anguish was deafening. Joe didn’t know how to respond. He kept silent, and waited until she calmed down. “I was raped Joe.”

“Uh, what?”

“I was raped. I, went out last night…and, this guy, put something in my drink…”

“Who!?” Joe shouted, and he startled her.

“Bakri.” She whimpered.

“Who? Which Bakri”

“Bakri Melawati.” She replied. Joe knew a few “Bakri’s” and tried recalling one from Taman Melawati. “That motherfucking son-of-a-bitch. That mother-fucking-son-of-a-bitch!!” he repeated ragefully. He struggled to calm down; he took a deep breath, “Baby calm down, okay. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll be with you ASAP.” He spent a while on the phone with Naomi that night, the woman he has loved for the last four years. He tried to change topics, to keep his mind of the issue, but only spite consumed his thoughts, “I love you. Okay. Don’t think otherwise. I love you so much.” He said. “Please don’t ever leave me. I’m not a slut. I love you. Don’t leave.” Nervously she said.

He pictured Naomi – her beauty, and her kinder personality stole his heart ever since he met her. “You’re not a slut. I know you. You’re an angel. We can get through this…” His credit finished before he could finish his sentence. He needed to be a man. He needed to stand up to the dignity to the woman he most respected, and loved and cared for the most. Bakri had to pay; he had to realize what he had done.

He had met Bakri three months ago.

He was a friend of a friend; he was an acquaintance that regularly came over to Joe’s home to drug up. They eventually became quite close, but Joe knew Bakri was a self-imposed rat. Joe only liked Bakri because he was rich, and Bakri only liked Joe because he had a load of drugs. Their relationship was constrained to only a buyer-seller colleagueship of coke. He knew that Bakri always had a thing for Naomi, every time she joined them for a session, he subtly eye-fucked her when Joe was looking away. But he didn’t think he’d go this far, even with the amount of alcohol and drugs he would’ve done that night, he didn’t believe he was such a cunt to delve so low.

It was a tiring journey back to KL. He was in Singapore over the weekend to see his brother. The whole car trip was stuck in a sentiment of spite and revenge. He felt that he wanted to puke; he had been smoking an unhealthy amount of cigarettes to calm him down. He was a wreck, he opened the glove box to get another pack of smokes, and instead he found a pair of handcuffs (a present from Naomi, when they were adventurous) and an idea started to plan out. Joe was near approaching KL, he needed to take a leak, so stopped at the nearest petrol station. When he walked to the toilet, he noticed a piece of cable draped over a lid of the rubbish bin. Just what he needed he thought. He picked the meter long line of the lid, and entered the toilet. He entered a cubicle, and pulled the powder from his pocket. He rolled a ringgit bill into a straw, and poured the powder onto the lid of the toilet. He sniffed the stuff until his throat burned, he consumed it all. After that, his intentions became clear, he wanted to see Bakri. He wanted to reason him out. He pulled out his phone tapped a message, ‘Bro back in KL, come over. got some good shit.”

Joe tightened the cable to a point until he can feel Bakri struggle to breathe. When he came over, Joe played Bakri, acted like a naïve son of a bitch, whilst Bakri basking in pride, knowing that he had fucked his drug dealer’s bitch. Joe had given him a gratuitous amount of coke and whiskey to knock him out. He easily set Bakri in his death chair.

He placed his foot on his chest, and gripped the cable tight. He leans back, balancing on his leg whilst he uses his foot to leverage the strength from his hands. He tugs on the line hard, the chair leans back to the wall, and Bakri chokes slowly to his death.

It was a slow murder, Joe almost gave into his remorse, but finally he could hear the room go silent. Bakri was dead. Joe checked again for a pulse, but he was definitely lifeless.

His phone rang. It was Naomi.

“Joe, are you in KL yet?” she said.

“I just got here, I’ll be at your place soon.” He replied calmly.

“Be quick, I need you now.”

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll be by your side soon. Everything will be ok.” He assured her.

He hung up. He then stares at the corpse; he knows he’ll be caught. But he doesn’t care. He defended his woman. And he filled up with pride. He loved her like he loved his life. He knew he will be loved and respected for his actions from her.

He went down to his car, and drove off into silence of the night, to return to his princess as a knight in shining armor.

As Joe approached Naomi, his legs still trembling, he puffed out his chest, a feigned attempt to appear calm.

“I’m so sorry Joe” Naomi whispered as he approached.

“I lied to you, I just needed you back here quickly, I just, missed you so much

…Joe, I was never raped.”

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About Ariff Azmi

Founder of shriekingmonkeys - My interests span from quirky culture to anything that dares to amuse my highly-desensitized nature.

One response to “Silent Hour

  1. Saskia ⋅

    WAT A FUKIN HOE THAT NAOMI BITCH hahaha weirdly enough it happened to my friend once, and i guess lots of pathetic gurls do it aye haha 😛 thumbs up ariff

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