A heavy silence filled the room.
Judy stopped tending to the wound, lifted her eyes to him slowly, then sat on the edge of the bed. Her gaze was heavy with understanding… and caution.
Judy (quietly):
Yousef… tell me. What exactly happened?
Yousef closed his eyes, as if the memory burned him from the inside.
His uninjured hand clenched the bedsheet tightly, his breathing quickened, but he tried to keep his voice steady.
Yousef:
I was angry… I couldn't control myself anymore. Sarah was there… she was afraid of me.
And then… Adam… her child… he shot me.
Noah stepped closer with slow, deliberate steps, lowering himself to sit on the floor at the foot of the bed. His voice was quiet, but direct.
Noah:
Were you going to hurt them?
Yousef looked at him for a long moment. The tears didn't fall, but they shimmered in his eyes.
Then, slowly, he shook his head.
Yousef (hoarse):
No. I can't even imagine it. I just wanted to scream… to run… but my body wouldn't obey me.
Judy placed her hand over his. It wasn't an emotional gesture, but a human one—a quiet attempt to reassure him despite the gravity of the moment.
Judy:
Losing control doesn't make you a bad person, Yousef… but it does mean you need help.
We have to understand what's happening to you… before you lose something you can't get back.
Yousef closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, as if her words had broken through an inner wall that had been holding him in place.
Noah, trying to ease the tension, tilted his head and asked with a faint smile:
Noah:
Does the bullet hurt? Or your heart?
Yousef let out a short, quiet laugh—closer to a sigh than real laughter.
Yousef:
Both… but the second one's worse.
Outside, the wind tore through the trees, and the night crept heavily over the forest.
Inside, for the first time, Yousef felt he wasn't completely alone… that there were people who didn't see him as a monster.