"Can't you remember anything? Not even a tiny detail?" I asked Azalea the next morning.
"No, I tried but I can't remember anything about my parents."
"This is hopeless," I sighed flopping down on the sofa.
"What happens when I find my parents anyway?" She asked.
"Well, everything goes back to normal." I guessed.
"Why would they leave me anyways?" She pondered.
"To save you, isn't that what they said?"
"Yeah, but they could have come with me."
"It was a small space Azalea, they wouldn't have fitted." I reasoned.
"Maybe."
"Don't you have anything of theirs? Like an object or something?" I asked her.
"What do you mean?"
"Like, I have this from my mom," I showed her pulling out the golden chain that was once my mom's so many years ago.
She shook her head.
"But Laura Bunsen did give a file. A file of a kid whom they believed me to be. It's upstairs." Azalea remembered.
The two of us raced upstairs, I got there first and opened the file, there was a passport sized picture paper clipped to a pile of papers. The picture did look a lot like Azalea. We flipped through the papers until we saw the address of her parents.
"Here it is," I said softly.
"What if they don't remember me?"
"They will,"
Azalea rang the door bell and than stepped back. We were outside 24 Gailparks Crescent. The address of Azalea's home. She took a deep breath as we heard the lock of the door turning.
"Hi how may I-" The lady who opened the door trailed off. This was definetely Azalea's mother. Their eyes were so alike, both large and charcoal grey, caring and kind.
"Mom," Azalea squeeked.
"You're alive?" She gasped, "After all these years?"
She nodded. Her mom took the tiny Azalea into her arms.
"I searched and searched but there was no sign, they told me you'd died!" Her mom sobbed.
"I'm here mom," Azalea said softly.
Azalea's mom knelt down so that her face was level with Azalea's, she smiled seeing her daughter's face for the first time in years.
"You look exactly like your father," She smiled, and then turned to me. "Who are you?"
"This is Maydah, she found me, and she was the only one who didn't walk right past me."
"Thank you," Her mom whispered, her face beautiful, but etched with trouble and heart ache.
"Where is dad?" Azalea asked abruptly.
"Azalea honey, he died, a long time ago."
"In the mall shooting?"
"Yes, he was protecting you. I thought everything was lost, but he didn't die in vain.. He saved you."
Azalea nodded, "If only I could remember him."
"What?!" Azalea's mom asked with extreme concern looking at me.
"She has a case of amnesia, the authorities think it's because she was in a small place, she must have banged her head, alot of kids have a similar condition to hers." I filled in.
"Wait, the authorities? You mean to say they found Azalea and they didn't even tell me? What's going on here?"
Azalea and I filled her out on what was actually going on.
"No way," Her mom breathed, "That's wrong, that's disgusting, they can't do this!" Her face was twisted with disgust and horror.
"We have to stop them." I said.
"How?"
YOU ARE READING
Journal of a Teenage Muslim.
Teen FictionMaydah Ahmad was never a normal girl. Ever since she was a young girl, it was clear to tell she was made for something bigger, something better.. But than her mother died, leaving Maydah and her father to cope on their own. After that her life was n...
