In My Sister's Shadow-Book II

6. Exposed

Sitting on the mattress in the dark with a small candle for light, my breaths were rapid swaying the feeble flame side to side. What if Zayn found the camera in the morning? What if he found out that I set it up? No. I was over thinking. I was creating problems that didn't exist. I had to remain calm. It was the only way. Taking off my coat, and slipping of my scarf, I settled into the room. My hair carried a heavenly scent lingering between the strands evoking sweet memories of the spa. I changed into my leggings and peach short sleeved top.
"Zoh'ra, grab me a towel!" Zayn called from the bathroom.
"Zayn, there's no hot water." I made my way into the hallway where he'd piled his clothes in a heap on the floor.
"Do I look like a man who has hot showers?" he replied under the burst of the shower. I shuddered.

Whilst he showered, I stood in the hallway with his clothes hung over my arm in thought. What should I do? Now, that the plan was in motion I was twisting with regret. This was a mistake. It sounded simple and straightforward in theory, but in the midst of my plan I was out of my depth. This wasn't me, I wasn't manipulating. Why did I agree to it? Did Kash coerce me? Of course, he didn't, this was me. I played part to this.
Once I'd folded Zayn's old clothes, I found a t-shirt and loose grey joggings pants which were perfect for him to change into.
Back in the children's room I closed the door and took the opportunity to message Kash.
'I'm not sure about this. It's not right.'
Listening to my beating heart, I counted the seconds. It was one hundred and ten seconds before he replied.
'Don't give up now. I'll call you tomorrow. I'm catching a flight. Speak soon.'
Now he was leaving me in the lurch. Flight? To where? Where was he going and how long would he be? I panicked. I stood up pacing the room up and down in the small space. Come the morning and Zayn would surely find the device! Oh God! Stupid Zohra.

Later that evening, I lay on the mattress with a hundred thoughts buzzing in my mind keeping me awake. Zayn was stumbling around in the kitchen, warming food having a midnight snack. My eyes wide awake I crossed my forearm over my head forcing myself to sleep.

Moments later the light from the doorway dimmed, the small candle extinguished. I sat up and found Zayn lurking in the doorway blocking the feeble light from the hallway. His arms spread on the doorframe like an X. I could make out his silhouette, strong shoulders and wet hair dripping onto the floorboards.
"Are you okay?"
I couldn't make out his face, the light shone on his back.
He stood there in silence, making me nervous.
"I did this."
"Did what?" I asked anxioulsy. 

I paused waiting for him to elaborate but there was nothing. He dragged his feet and walked away. Curious to learn what he meant, I tiptoed barefoot into the lounge. He slumped on the sofa, looking at his feet. Vigilant of the camera spying on us, I stood in the doorway unable to step into the forbidden territory. The candles flickered melting the perfume infused wax. The room smelt of sweet aromatic wax and lavender glowing on Zayn's frame and his large shadow filled the room.
"You don't complain. You get on with it." His voice mumbled in a depressive tone. "I've become the man I hate. I've become my dad. A nothing. What have I got to show for it. Nothing."
He was right, he had become his dad.
"I said I wouldn't become him, but I have. I'm a loser. I've lost my wife, kids and home."
His honesty struck me. Now it was time to talk to him. "I rarely see you, Zayn. You're rarely here. You're always working." I whispered.
"Because I'm ashamed. Look where I bought you and the kids.  I can't look you in the eye." He shrugged his shoulders.
"So, you run away?"
"What the alternative?" he turned looking at me stood in the doorway.
"When I come here I'm reminded of my failure." He stood up and walked around the room. "Your dad is right, I am a loser. Even you, you can't bear to be near me." He pointed towards me how I stood in the doorway like an outsider.

He was ashamed of himself and that's why he worked all the hours God sent. It wasn't that he didn't care like I assumed. He did care and that was the problem. He couldn't bear to stay here, to watch us suffer. He was poisoned with guilt and regret. I stepped into the room and pressed my hand on his back. I was here with him. Despite the arduous journey, I was here. He turned around and grabbed my arm.
"Stop it Zayn, what are you doing?"
He took out his mobile and switched the light. I struggled pulling my arm back feeling pain from his tight grasp.
"Let me go!" I protested.
He shone the light on my wrist. My latest scar. He knew. I met his eyes twinkling with the light of the candle.
"I know what you do. When you slept, I counted them all. 17 scars. Your arm, your thighs your wrists."