Opposites Attract.

Chapter 1 - School's out for summer, now what?

(DISCLAIMER: I FEEL THE NEED TO LIST THIS AT THE START OF MY STORY BECAUSE I'M PRETTY SURE A FEW PEOPLE THAT HAVEN'T EVEN FINISHED THIS STORY WILL MAKE ASSUMPTIONS. I AM IN NO WAY ENCOURAGING MIXING WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX/DATING OR DISOBEYING YOUR PARENTS. I'M MERELY POINTING OUT A REALISTIC SITUATION THAT CAN HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE. VOTE/COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THE STORY AND IF YOU'RE JUST GOING TO THROW HATE THEN TAKE YOUR UGLY ATTITUDE ELSEWHERE. ASALAMU ALAYKUM BROTHERS AND SISTERS.)

"How can you simply be friends with someone when every time you look at them, you're thinking about how much more you really want?" Dawson's Creek.

Chapter 1 - School's out for Summer, now what?

The story of Mariam Ali & Danny James.

I guess you could say I was a bright girl. Beautiful, happy and full of life - the words used by others to describe me. Those who looked closely knew there was more to me than meet's the eye. An aura of sadness surounded me perhaps? I marvelled. It was either that or loneliness but nobody knew why. At exactly 18 years old many would describe this as being the greatest time of their life. This was the time where teenagers went wild and left all their troubles behind.

This, was the moment you heard screeching cars as they drove off into the distance, squealing teenage girls and the smell of summer in the air. School and college was out and it was time to let her hair down after studying for exams but for some reason I wasn't in the mood. This wasn't the first time either. Friends had invited me to house parties endlessly but I always felt too mature for partying and making small talk with boys who were way too immature for their age. Another valid reason? My parents as strict Muslims weren't exactly keen on the English party scene either.

I lay in my bed and squinted at the ceiling avoiding the harsh summer light that was desperately trying to get into my eyes and thought "Who am I?" of course many would perceive this to be a silly question to ask as I knew my identity. I was the 18 year old Muslim girl who lived across the street to Betty Watson and 92 year old George Fields. This, however, wasn't what I meant exactly. When I asked that question I wondered why I never fitted in anywhere, where I was going in the future and who I wanted to be and was frustrated when I couldn't come up with suitable and relevant answers.

My parents had pushed me from a young age to be a doctor and although, there was no question about whether she could get there, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to. Reluctantly, I still let my parents decide my future because I didn't think I had the ability to correctly choose my own path as I was impeccably indecisive and according to my parents. 'too young' to make the right choice.

"It's for the best, sweetheart." my mother chipped in ever so often when she could get in a word between the endless lectures of my stubborn father. My father was one of those people you could never win an argument with - stubborn would be a huge understatement to describe his not so positive persona and characterial attributes.

London's lights was filled with hope and opportunity but I was filled with nothing but emptiness. It was almost like I was longing for something I had never had which was a strange feeling to say the least.

I have a brother called Jamal and a sister called Amira who were my siblings but I never really felt connected to. Our family life had metaphorical cuts, bruises and dents and our problems were usually left unsaid. It was almost as though everyone wanted to be somewhere else then in this overcrowded yet empty home. I loved my mother very much and appreciated everything she had done for me but the endless arguments with my siblings left me more and more isolated. Then, the realization hit me, I also wanted to be anywhere but here too. My mother was incredibly ill and I had to follow through with her wishes to see her smile again. I had to. Vague memories flashed through my mind of my mother taking me to hospital and holding my hand through the night. Holding up my hair while I threw up and giving me advice on everything possible. She was my best friend -- I'd take a bullet for her thats for sure.