Journal of a Teenage Muslim.

Chapter 7 - Authorities are back..

That night while we were eating dinner, there was a knock on the door.

"Wait in your room," Dad told us getting up and wiping his hands on the kitchen towel.

"Who is it?" I asked worried.

"Just wait in your room," Dad said again softly.

Azalea and I rushed upstairs as we heard my dad slowly unlocking the front door. Both of us sat at the top of the staircase, peering between the railings and staying quiet as ever so we could hear what they were saying.

"We are here concerning eleven year old Azalea, who seemed to have amnesia, there are no records of her, but you might know her surname and we'll need that information, now this can either go quick and easy, all you have to do is confess and give us her surname, if we find no external damage done to her, there will be no charges pressed, if not, we'll have to take you into custody," The same guy who questioned us in school said.

"Wait, hold on, why would you think I know her surname?" Dad inclined.

"It's obvious Mr Ahmad, that this girl did not just get amnesia out of the blues, did you, or did you not kidnap Azalea?"

"Kidnap?!" Dad's eyes widened, "Are you suggesting I would kidnap an eleven year old girl and-"

"Yes, the answer to that question would be a yes or no,"

"No!" My dad stated, "I would never do such a thing! My daughter found her all by herself near the entrance of the mall, we saved the little girl's life, not put it in danger!"

"Mhmm," The guy scribbled something down in his notebook. "And where is Azalea at the moment?"

"She's upstairs, with my daughter,"

"Would you call her down please."

"Of course,"

My dad came to the end of the staircase, "Azalea," He called softly.

Azalea looked at me,

"It'll be fine," I assured, but I wasn't too sure myself.

She steadily went downstairs. The guy looked at her, she was wearing a pair of my pajamas, they were big on her but just as warm.

"May I investigate your house?" He asked, this time his voice was a little less hard than before.

"Of course," Dad nodded, we had nothing to hide anyways.

I quickly slipped on my hijab and went downstairs, Azalea came closer to me, all three of us watched him go through everything we had and scribbling it down in his notebook. Finally, he took his phone out of his coat pocket and made a call.

"Mhmm.. Mhmm.. Ok.. Got it.. Alright.." He put the phone back in his pocket than took Azalea by her arm.

"Hey!" She protested trying to get away but his grip was too strong.

"What's going on?" Dad demanded rushing to block his way.

"We're taking Azalea away from you, you're not her legal guardian nor do you have any legal rights to keep her, therefore we are taking her away,"

"I don't want to go!" She yelled.

He ignored her and carried on walking.

"Can I at least say goodbye?" I asked softly.

The guy looked at me, "Alright,"

"I want to stay here," She sobbed into my shoulder, I held her tiny body close to mine.

"It'll be fine, it'll all be fine," I whispered, I knew the guy was listening to every word we said. "Just umm, keep the pyjamas,"

"Why?" She asked watery eyed, her hands on my shoulders.

"For something to remember me by,"

"Ok, let's go," The guy said, taking Azalea into the black Jeep. My dad and I stood outside our house, watching the car go into the distance, blending in with the black of the night.

"Come on, it's cold out here," Dad took me by the shoulder.

We both went inside, I cleared the already cold dinner from the table and set the dishes in the sink, three dishes, that's when I thought of it, why I liked Azalea so much, why she made me feel something I had not felt in a long time. Three dishes, we would have been a family, she reminded me of the long lost third dish, my mom.

I went upstairs looking for my dad, his room door was slightly closed, I peered in, his room dimly lit with one lamp, and he was prostrating on his sajada (prayer mat).

"Keep her safe, keep her happy," He whispered, than got up and saw me standing at the entrance. "Come Maydah,"

I went and sat next to him. "After all that's happened, you pray?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because we are in a situation where only God can help us," Dad told me.

"But look at all that's happened, is He really helping us?" I asked.

"Of course Maydah, He is strengthening our faith, if only good happens to us, every one would pray, but when bad happens, the true colors of a person are shown, that is when we put all our trust, every single ounce of our faith in Allah, and he will take us where we would never have even dreamed of. We must not stop believing Maydah," He told me.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I really think so. Besides, if we don't thank God for every time we smile, than we can't blame Him for every time we cry."