LOOK AT ME (Muslim Story)

He looked at me (29)

Ahmed looked at me. In my eyes. At me, at me.

He looked at me.

His eyes met mine, and it felt so good. It felt like he had kissed me, or he had proposed to me. That's how good it felt. And the best part? I didn't even ask him to.

I gasped out loud, covering my mouth, "You're looking at me."

He didn't say anything but grip my waist hard and pull me towards him. He let his head dip down to the crook of my neck as he breathed hard. I had goosebumps all over me.

Holy fuck. His eyes are beautiful. An amazing light brown colour.

When he looked at me, he saw someone innocent, someone so nice. I can tel by his expressions.

He took his head out to look at me one more time and my heart stopped. His hands reached out to my hair and pushed a strand behind my ear, "Damn you." He said.

I smiled up at him, my teeth showing, "Ahmed, you're looking at me."

"I know." He smiled back, "And holy shit, your eyes are green."

I choked on a laugh, "Of course. Where do you think I got my name?"

The mood was killed all too suddenly when Ahmed leaned into me again and gave me a hug, "I'm sorry that happened to you."

I shrugged during our hug, "Like I Said, it's not your fault."

Me and Ahmed continues talking and eventually I got him to forget what happened. It's crazy how rape can change a person's life forever. I know for a fact it changed mine. And the craziest part is that, I'm one of the many people who haven't made a statement to the police about what happened to me.

How many are there really?

We say rape isn't common, but we don't know that. We know only what we hear on the news but what about what we don't hear? It could be more common than we thought.

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I spent the weekend helping my dad with the Christmas tree and decorating our house and driveway. Throughout the whole weekend, my heart ached because something told me that it's wrong, Christmas. That I shouldn't be decorating and celebrating.

I've done this all my life... why is this hurting me now?

Islam has been in my head lately. I've been trying to get it out, focus on my religion but it never left my head. Why, I don't know. And it's ticking me off because when I needed Allah's help, he wasn't there.

I was on my way to school right now, standing in front of the large glass doors. When I opened up the squeaky door and presented myself in the front hall, all conversations were dropped and all eyes were on me.

Kind of reminds me of the day I met Ahmed.

It's like they knew something I didn't. Except they couldn't have. Because I know almost everything that goes on in this school.

Some girl with blonde hair, had her eyes in a sad expression, her mouth carved up in a frown and her hands intertwined with each other. She approached me, "I'm so sorry." She said bowing her head, "That shouldn't happen to any woman."

I stared at her like she her head exploded, "Do I fucking know you? Beat it."

She saw my mad expression and didn't even hesitate to scurry away with her friends.