Freeing or Fleeing

Chapter One - Drowning Without an End

"How can I help you?" I asked, irritated now. "I really need to get this room cleaned up before Mum gets home."

The worry in my voice must have been evident.

"You make it sound like the evil step mother from Cinderella has a rival. Are you like this because of your mother-in-law? I did warn you!" It was like she was battling within herself and didn't know which emotion to take. One second, she sounded angry and the next, she was concerned and then back again. I wish she would pick one and stick to it.

I gave a nervous laugh. "No no, she's not like that."

"She better not be or I'll have to give that mother-in-law of yours a bit of a talking to."

This time I laughed, a little louder than I should have. "And say what, exactly?" I prompted, knowing fully well that she had no guts to talk to Mum like that.

"Okay, forget about that. Tell me, what's wrong? You're not..." she trailed off for a second as she searched my face with her eyes. "like yourself."

"If I don't look like myself, then what do I look like to you? When I last checked the mirror, I saw a 5 ft 3" girl with the darkest of eyes and boredest of expressions on her face from the nonsense you say all the time," I deadpanned.

"For one, boredest isn't a word and two, she never used to look like a tramp," she replied, matter-of-factly.

"Hey! That's not nice."

"Okay, jokes aside, what's wrong forreal? I've never seen you not take care of yourself. You look so warn out all the time, even your face has sunken in. Have you been eating properly?" she spoke with concern. "I'm worried about you."

"Khadra, there's nothing wrong. I'm just tired and I just want to get the kitchen cleaned up so that I can go to sleep." I avoided her gaze and made to get up, only to have her grab my arm again.

"Okay, one, the kitchen is practically clean; all you have is one plate left to wash and the water on the floor and two, I have something really important to tell you." Her voice raised into a high pitch squeak out of frustration.

"Excuse me, missy! The water drops on the floor were totally your fault so you can clean that up and can't your 'something really important' wait until I finish that one plate, please?" I begged, air quoting the words I repeated of hers.

Khadra can really be dramatic sometimes so I don't usually take notice of when she has something important to say because to her, everything is important.

"No, this can't wait." She glanced over her shoulder towards the kitchen door. "Let's go to your room really quickly. I know your husband won't be home anytime soon, he let me in on his way out to the masjid with his friends."

"Okay, you're scaring me now. What is it?"

"I said, let's go to your room!"

She lost her patience with me and dragged me out of the kitchen and up the stairs but not before I managed to grab my niqab and hijab from the back of the chair I was sat on. We passed the bathroom, the room Mum (meaning my mother-in-law) stayed in while she lived with us and another room before we reached another set of stairs. She continued to pull me up those steps before pushing open the door on the left. It was the husband's idea to sleep on the third floor to give us some privacy while Mum stayed in our actual room; again, his idea to give her our room as it was the largest room and not to make her go up so many flights of stairs. Khadra switched the lights on. Three steps into the room and she shoved me onto the double bed, taking a seat opposite me with her legs crossed over each other. She waited until the door fully closed before she spoke again. I lazily discarded the niqab and hijab on the bed next to me.