Jerk's Hijabi

Ch#36 You promised me chocolate chip pancakes!

I woke up for fajr when I heard some fumbling around outside, yes once again, and no, I didn't take a hanger with me and yes, I'll always be the one that follows the sounds rather than waiting things out. I'm a curious little thing, sue me.
I followed the sounds to the kitchen,
"YOU! You, promised me chocolate chip pancakes!" Dawood pointed the spatula in his hands towards me.
"You feel asleep, how was I supposed to feed pancakes to an drunk, unconscious big baby?" I snapped back. I don't take pointing out very well, sorry.
"You could have made them and kept them by my bedside, I was hungry." He replied, turning his back and fliping his partially burnt pancake.
"Ah well since you have your pancakes, I don't need to be around anymore." I replied and turned to go back to my room, still have to pray fajr, remember?!

"Stay." He called out.
"What?" I asked.
"Stay, I've made too many pancakes, you can consider this as a treat for putting me to bed." He replied, pulling out the plates.
"I still have to pray fajr, so, thanks but no thanks." I replied.
"Come back after you're done? We'll umm... Talk and all." He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
I had to rethink twice to make sure that I heard what I heard. He's agreed to talk, not only agreed he offered to talk this time. If he did want to talk earlier and got drunk, why the change of heart?
"Deal, make them extra chocolatey." I replied, ignoring the nagging thought as I skipped back to my room to pray.

I made my way back to the kitchen,
"Sooo, did you make them extra chocolatey?" I asked as I slipped into one of the chairs.
"Yepppp." Dawood replied, sliding the plate in front of me,
"Thanks and sorry." He replied quietly as he slumped himself on one of the chairs.
"Did I hear that right? You just thanked and apologised all in the same sentence?!" I exclaimed teasingly, probably don't need a tense mood right now.
"Why would I ever do that?" The used toothbrush said stuffing his face with the pancakes, the corner of his lips lifting up.

"How's your hand? Your eye doens't look any better." I asked as we sat in a comfortable silence, eating our pancakes (they're surprisingly really good, at least he's good for something, right?)
"It still hurts like a *cough* female dog." He replied lifting the bandaged hand.
"That's you get for fighing. What were you fighting about anyways?" I asked, cutting a slice out of the pancake devouring the delicious delicacy.
"I saw my father today." He said swallowing the his bite.
"And that ended with you getting a black eye and a bruised hand?" I pressed, I feel like I was walking around eggshells right now, but I don't think he'll wilingly elaborate until he's pressed on.
"You've obviously gathered that my father isn't exactly liked or wanted back. So, there's obviously a big reason there." He said as if that explained everything that needed to be.

"Did he do this to you?" I gasped out.
"Oh no. He didn't he hadn't been able to do this to me since I was 12 and got strong enough." He said with a solemn grin.
"And that's why hate him." I concluded.

"That's not the only reason I hate him. For years, he used to come home drunk either after being fired or suspended or just plain spending his days out on the streets getting drunk and take out all his anger on my mom. At first it just used to be anger burts, calling names, calling her a good for nothing woman and pushing her around and then it got physical.
Very physical.
And I started to step in, it used to direct his anger on me instead. And that was okay because it kept mom safe. He broke her, she's not the same she used to be, she stopped smiling, she started walking around eggshells, she worked extra hours but still managed to make sure that dinner was ready in front of that drunk to avoid getting beaten." He let out a sigh.
"I started going to the gym, started getting strong enough to make a strike hurt him as much as he hurt mom, hurt him the same way he was hurting me. And I did, I goy strong enough and stood upto him. I called the police on him and he was taken away, we had the proof of his artworks so he was sent away. And now, mom was stupid enough to forget everything and let him back in our life. In our house. This is not his house, not his family. It's mine. And I'm going to keep i safe. Whatever it takes." He ended.
"I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. I'm so sorry that the person that was supposed to keep you safe hurt you. I'm so sorry that you feel like you have the worlds responsibility on your shoulders." I said with a sad frown on my face. 

"I don't want your pity." He spat.
"It's not pity, it's empathy. My baba has always been a rock I can count on. I don't know where I'll be without him and you're brave and you have a good heart, you struggled and you're still standing here, fighting. And Your mom is strong, she's very strong. Do you think you're treating her any better than that man did? She loves you and for some reason a part of her loves him or at least care about him. Don't take it out on her. She's your route to Jannah (heaven), it lies beneath her feet, you're lucky that she's here so don't lose that over something that's just anger towards your father rather than her. So, Respect her, talk to her,  listen to her and be there for her." I replied, sadly.
He pushed away his plate, abruptly stood up and walked out of the kitchen and out of the house slamming the door behind him. 

I collecting the plates and sorted them out and went back to the room I was sharing with Belle, the sun was out and it was nearly time we have to wake up for class anyways. Did I got too far? Knowing me. Probably.

Author's note:
Heyo ladies! Did you missss meee!?
Sorry for the long long long long long and extra long wait, I've been trying to write it out for weeks!
A little inside into Dawood aka the used toothbrush.
Vote, comment, and share!
OHH AND HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY!

~M