Tale In The Red Sand

Chapter Thirty - five

The embrace was long and soothing, neither of them wished to let go, but when Hibaaq's belly began to grumble in protest, Warsame pulled away with a hearty laugh.

"How rude of me, let's get you home." 

Hibaaq sheepishly grinned. All she wanted was to soak in a warm bath, wear a fresh baati and eat something hot.

With the assistance of her father Hibaaq got out of bed and eased down on a wheelchair, then she was wheeled out into the hallway. She couldn't recall the faces of the nurses that treated her the night before, but the disquieted glances she received from a few as they moved through the emergency corridor, let her know that her incident wasn't as private as she might've thought. Pity was boldly written on all of their features. Hibaaq didn't know how to feel about their sympathy, so she simply lowered her eyes, staring at her lap until she felt the terrain change beneath the wheels, and the morning light hit her skin. They finally made it out. Hibaaq raised her gaze and let out a relieved sigh as her father helped her inside the backseat of his dodge charger.

He quietly drove home, stress lines etched deep between his brows. The prolonged silence made Hibaaq to wonder if he still had his mother on his mind, or rather, what she had done. She could imagine why because it would never get easier finding out that one's own mother could turn out to be the antagonist. He's yet to confront her about it, she was sure his brain was wracking over a billion scenarios of how he could approach the topic. Hibaaq would have to face her grandmother as well. She would have to live under the same roof as her, having to see the same woman that would be the source of her nightmares, every waking day.

"Do you just want to go somewhere else for a bit?" Her father asked. Their eyes met through the rear view mirror, though Hibaaq shook her head no, she couldn't run away forever. What harm could her grandmother cause now, she was safe, far far away from that small cottage in the dead of the wilderness.

Something else was on her mind as well, or better yet, someone. The same person who had gathered her bruised body from off the ground and carried her in his secure arms. Hibaaq knew she could just ask her father, but the embarrassment of seeming too desperate made her cheeks burn up. She quietly leaned back in her seat so her father couldn't see the turmoil in her mind play out like a movie on her face. He could be a little too perceptive sometimes.

Perhaps he was the one who wished to escape.

When they arrived, Layla was stood anxiously at the top of the driveway. Seeing them pull up, she hurriedly adjusted her slippers and ran to the car. Before Warsame could even cut the engine, Layla swung open the backseat door, quickly passing her salams to him before she engulfed Hibaaq into her arms. The round apples of her cheeks and the pointed tip of her nose was flushed crimson from crying.

"Hibaaq, I'm so sorry!" She said past her snivels, pulling away to wipe her face with the hem of her hijab. Hibaaq patted her shoulder, comfortingly.

"What for? You've done nothing wrong." She remarked as Layla helped her out. Once she stood outside wobbling on her two feet, she hugged her properly. Hibaaq briefly peered over at the dark spot that contrasted from the rest of the ashen concrete. It was where she bled out profusely until she thought she saw the world around her falling into a melting pot. Her beetle had been moved to its space at the side of the house, and the dark spot had clearly been hosed down. She forced herself to look away, for the sight of it was entirely unnerving.

"I've heard. I should've been here like I always am, then maybe you wouldn't have -" Layla vigorously shook her head as they took their time walking to the front door. "How did it even happen? Who did this!" As Hibaaq took excruciating steps to the front door, her and her father, who walked as gradually on the other side of her, shared a knowing gaze. She wouldn't be able to hide this from her, for Layla was more than a friend, she was like a sister. Warsame strode ahead of them to open the door for his daughter, but to also allow them to talk without his intrusion. He was sure there were many questions yet to be answered.