AS English assignment piece for ‘The Kite Runner’ by Khaled Hosseini.
 A creak. I stood still, lightening the pressure my foot asserted on the floor, praying to not be given away. My ears could hear their voices, their conversation murmured, their distant voices vibrating off the walls. Behind doors, behind me. 
I knew what it was, the subject of their conversation; Hassan and Ali.

 ”I just can’t believe it.” Baba said, slamming his foot down on some nearby innocent furnishing. “There’s something wrong about this Rahim, something very wrong.” 
“The boys weren’t getting on, we know that.” Rahim replied, and they did know that. My actions had made it very clear. 
“They were so close, him and Hassan. He was treated like another son. not just another Hazara, not Hassan.” My heart panned with guilt. What had I done? What had I done?
“And Ali,” Baba continued. “Ali, I don’t understand why he did this. I ordered him! I ordered!  Do you know Amir asked me if I’d ever consider replacements? Replacements!” His voice was raised. No need for straining ears now. 

 I stood wincing, my whole body stopping, guilt-ridden and hateful. I hated Baba for making me feel so unworthy, for never even bothering to attempt to conceal the shame I brought upon him. I hated everything that had happened, I hated myself for not being the saviour I was meant to be, that Hassan would have been. And that was the worse, I hated Hassan for being everything I could never be. In that moment I was a monster. The monster that had let Hassan walk away.

 Rahim was silent, and this I had come to known. Next to Baba’s hurricanes of fury and emotions Rahim was the peaceful night sky, despite being full of dark he could still find a light. 

 ”Something was going on, I think we know that. They were close, they had almost a brotherhood, and perhaps now, now this has happened they’ll realise that more than ever. Perhaps this is what Amir, what Hassan needed. Perhaps closeness would’ve torn them completely, apart. People need to go sometimes for realisations to happen, but even after storms there may still be redemption”, even after storms there may still be redemption. The words echoed in my head -that night all I thought of was Hassan. And I don’t think I’ve stopped thinking since.