Sixteen

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Ismail ran as fast as his heavy booted legs could carry him, not minding that he was still wearing his work coveralls, or that his eyes were still heavy with sleep. He just ran through the hallway, down the metal staircase, ignoring the calls of his colleagues, till he reached his car. Even when his close work mate shouted from the balcony, ‘At least sign out na!’ He didn’t turn back. Getting a query was the least of his problems. 

His only mission was to get home, to his wife. But first, he needed to collapse, to react, without any witnesses. That was the reason why he ran to his car in the first place, for who’d want to see a gallant, military man cry?

On getting home, he didn’t bother to park his car inside the compound as it was already filled with
Barakah’s school bus, a white jeep and Sumayya’s blue Toyota Avensis. Even before he reached for the slightly opened door, he could already hear the low murmurs inside. 

This took him back to the day of Salsabil’s death: the filled up compound, the solemn crowd, the cries. He quickly shook his head to drive the memories away. This was not the same. Nobody was dead.
Barakah was only missing, and she’d be found soon. He knew so; He hoped so.

As he entered, the room hushed, as though the air he came with had rid them of their voices. He looked around, from Barakah’s class teacher to the two girls beside her. Finally to Hidaya with red rimmed eyes, Sumayya's head resting on her lap, Hajiya Bintu, Rose and Aaliyah.

Seeing them instantly calmed him down and gave him strength to smile. After a quick greeting and words of gratitude and appreciation, he hurried towards the stairs, wondering where Kauthar was, though he wasn’t surprised about her absence.

He found her in the girls’ room, on Barakah’s bed with her back to him, bent forward as though she was praying. But on moving closer, her face was shielded by Barakah’s white towel, but he could see the dampness and hear her low sniffles. 

He sat slowly and pulled her to him, but she resisted, even refused to raise her head. Sighing, he glanced at Hoor’s Sofia the First bed that was littered with a shirt, a blue short and one pair of sock. He picked them one by one, folded them into a ball and threw them straight into the laundry basket behind the door. His eyes moved to the blue formica wardrobe covered with stickers of various shapes and sizes, then to the widow with the curtains pulled down, but sun rays still poked through to warm up the room. Still, he went to raise the curtains, earning a loud hiss from Kauthar.

“Please put it back down.” She said.

“No, we need the sunlight.”

She uncovered her face and glared at him, “No, what I need is my daughter.” She said slowly, her puffy face crumbling again.

Ismail rushed to take her in his arms. “We’ll find her,”

“How? Nobody knows where she went. The only witnesses are two very unreliable girls who were arguing about seeing her with a lady in blue hijab or black hijab. They couldn’t even tell what the person looked like.”

Ismail blew out a puff of breath,  “Just calm down.”

“No! I cant.” She moved to the window. “Barakah is out there, alone, and I’m here, doing nothing. It’s not as if the school has CCtv cameras that we can check. We’re just hopeless. Hopeless!” She threw her hands in the air. 

Ismail stood akimbo, not sure of what to say. She was right, they were hopeless. 

“This is all my fault.”

He frowned. “what do you mean?”

Kauthar sat on the red bean bag across him, “I had a dream.” she whispered.

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