Panopticon

Prologue

How long had he known?

Isra had not expected to meet her brother here, but she could tell that this was no surprise encounter. She could read his face, and the faces of his friends, and they betrayed no shock. He, it seemed, could read hers. He knew exactly where she’d come from.

“Samir.” Her voice was dry, rasping in the cool night air.

“Issy. Sister.” Samir was eight years her senior, and nearly twice her height. Now, with fear clouding her vision through the gloom, the difference seemed even greater. Isra’s brother forced a smile, but it was as cold as the wind on her cheeks. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Indeed. What are you doing out so late, may I ask?”

“Please, Issy, spare us the games. I believe we both know why I am here, just as we all know where you have been. I told you to stay away.”

“She’s just a friend.” It was a lie, but not convincing. Samir only shook his head.

 “You don't understand. You dishonour our family, Issy. Have you no self-respect?”

“I do.” Isra mastered her courage. If she could not hide the truth from her brother, she could at least defend it from his disgust. “I do respect myself, brother, and my choices. It is you who is lacking in that department.”

As they spoke, his friends stepped ever closer, forming a wall behind him. Her brother worked for a local crime syndicate, so Isra was not surprised he had so many violent colleagues to call on for aid. He did not know that she knew, of course; she had been careful in her observation, and had told nobody but Alice. If her brother had found out just how much she’d learnt, she knew she would be killed immediately, and so she had kept silent, only for him to confront her for something else. She had kept one secret, but betrayed another.

Junayd, a frequent guest at their house, took Samir’s right side. Yet more pressed down his flanks, and circled around to her rear. Slowly, the group’s wings reached out and enclosed her. Her fear grew, and the men seemed even larger. Isra felt very small.

“It is a sin." Her brother's delivery was perfect, as if his lines had been rehearsed. "To respect the sinner, one must abhor their sin.”

“You know I don’t believe in that, brother. I have told you before. Do not shove your hatred down my throat.”

“Then your betrayal is absolute. Do you feel no guilt? Do you not feel shame at what you have become?” He seemed nervous, his eyes flickering to the men around him.

She shook her head: another lie.  In truth, Isra did not know. She felt guilt, but she felt ashamed to feel that guilt. After all, Alice was so warm, and so kind. Where was the wrong?  Why did she feel shame? Isra had searched for her evil in Samir’s literature, but had only found his own. When the guilt came, Alice was there to comfort her; Samir only punished. What was the crime? Isra could not find it, much as the guilt tore her inside.

Her brother was right. At home, Isra’s shame was Alice. In the outside world, however, it was him.

Without another word, just a nod to his friends, Samir left. Gradually, the other men vanished into the dark. After twenty seconds, as Isra counted by the pulse of her thumping heart, only two remained.

Junayd repeated the nod, and Isra gasped for breath as she was seized around the chest and bundled against a wall. She knew what this was. She was only fifteen, but she had heard stories. Isra watched as her brother’s friend, who had come to dinner at their house, took off his jacket. The other man, a white boy, leaned in close. She could smell fish on his breath.