Lying flat on a cold stone floor caused me to shudder and I blinked rapidly to wake myself.
Seven dark, brooding figures stood from a short distance, eyeing in my direction as I suddenly realized I was far from where I should be.
I was in a cave!
It was absolutely frigid and very nearly dark, with the exception of a few old-fashioned gas lamps flickering in all corners of the room. I breathed musty, stale cave air that mingled with the stench of sweat and rain-soaked clothing. The faint sound of dripping water wasn't so far away.
This really can't be real!
"I apologize for the disadvantage of your dampened clothing, Miss Hayat Ishfaq." One of the covered men pulled off his balaclava, revealing a menacing smile. He spoke perfect English, with a slight accent! "It was raining periodically on our two-day journey here."
My mind raced with eerie thoughts as I gaped at the man.
Two-day journey!
And, how did he know my name?
All of the seven men had donned black cargo pants, black boots, and black full-sleeved shirts with black combat vests and also had their faces covered with black balaclavas, with the exception of the man who had just spoken. Only their eyes and mouths were shown.
Collectively, they all looked like evil personified.
Please, God, let this be a nightmare.
Rafaa and some of the children surrounded me on the floor, slowly awakening from their slumber. Rafaa pushed herself off from the ground and stared straight ahead, beyond the men, at a black cloth that hung on the wall with white Arabic calligraphy scrawled on it.
"Al-Tho'baan," she read, barely above a whisper.
Al-Tho'baan?
The term sounded vaguely familiar. I bit my lip, wondering where I had heard of it.
Oh my...
Yassar had told me an extremist group, Al-Tho'baan, had come to a small village six months back and tortured the inhabitants there!
Yassar!
My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to remember what had happened to him. It's been two days...
My eyes widened in the midst of my sudden epiphany as I recalled the last time I had seen Yassar. He had been shot in the throat and collapsed on the schoolhouse floor, resting in a pool of his own blood.
My shoulders sank in defeat. I had only known him for one day and he had treated me with such kindness. His family was grateful for my presence in that I would help to educate the children enough to push them out of poverty.
And I had failed, in more ways than one.
"Oh, forgive me, ladies. How rude of me to not introduce myself," said the man who had taken off his balaclava. He had dark brown eyes, with black stubble and hair, and pale skin. "My name is Faizan," he said with a smile as he knelt down at eye level with Rafaa and me.
Rafaa glared at him with such anger and spat distastefully on Faizan's face. He reeled back in shock, his eyes full of venom. In a swift motion, he pulled Rafaa up by her hair and threw her to one of the covered men.
"Nazim," Faizan called out to the dark-skinned man he threw Rafaa at, and spoke to him in Arabic. "I want this one. Take her to my chamber."
"No!" I ran forward to grab Rafaa from Nazim, but a strong arm snaked around my waist, pulling me farther and farther away from her. Nazim clasped his gloved hand over Rafaa's mouth and dragged her out of the room into a dark passageway on the right.
"It took quite a bit of effort to bring some of you here," Faizan hissed in my ear. "I can't let you go away so easily now."
"Some of you?"
I spun around and counted off the children, all of whom were wide awake now. I faintly remembered Rafaa introducing me to twenty children...two days ago.
One, two, three...ten, eleven, and twelve.
Only twelve!
"The others are dead," Faizan read my thoughts and grinned evilly as he took in my horrified expression. "But that's fine; we didn't have enough room for eight extra kids anyway."
My heart sank to the bottom-most pit of my stomach.
Those children...
Jamael, the little Bedouin boy who had a pet goat, stomped over to Faizan and punched his crotch with all the strength he had.
No, Jamael, what did you just do?
Faizan bit down on his lip in pain, but that didn't stop him from grabbing Jamael by the collar and throwing him out of the entrance of the cave. I stared in horror as I grabbed the folds of my dress and furiously raced outside the cave to retrieve Jamael when I suddenly skidded to a stop.
This cave was precisely at the edge of a cliff, far above ground level. Jamael was thrown off of the cliff and onto flat ground.
There was no way he would be able to make it.
Jamael's little arm twitched ever so slightly on the dry ground, and his entire body came to a sudden stand-still.
I clasped my hands to my mouth to cover my screams. A boiling fury swelled inside of me, and the physical pain was suddenly too much to bear. I yelled and fell to the ground, hot tears streaming down my unkempt face. In addition, we were literally in the middle of nowhere. It was dusk and we were surrounded by mountains and cliffs that resembled eroded pottery under the setting sun.
In shocked silence, I stepped back into the cave unwillingly and looked to the other children. From my expression, they knew what had happened to their friend and they cried amongst each other.
Faizan made eye contact with two of the covered men and motioned for them to go outside.
"Oho! Miss America stands right before us!" Faizan announced mockingly in Arabic. He feigned a bow and narrowed his eyes at me as he transitioned into English with a slight accent. "So lovely of you to come all the way from your throne in America to help children over here. For your service, I'd like to gift something to you." He briskly grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet, and threw me down a few feet away from where I had been sitting before.
"Kya tum Urdu bol sakte ho?" Faizan asked me.
I shuddered as he asked if I speak Urdu. It was the other language besides English that I was most fluent at, but it sounded like an audible evil when it came from Faizan.
"Jee," I admitted quietly.
"How convenient," he grinned and snapped his fingers. A short, stocky bearded man in flowing robes came out from the inner passageway, the same one where Rafaa was taken in to. I did not miss the look of disdain on his face as though he really did not want to be here any more than I did. "We have a fellow Pakistani here, an imam all the way from Pakistan itself. He will act as your wali."
My wali...?
But that would mean...
Faizan turned to scan the six black-clothed men behind him and paused at the tallest man on the farthest right. "Ahsan, come here," he ordered.
My stomach clenched as torturous oblivion filled my mind.
What is going on?
Ahsan, completely clad in black with his face covered with a balaclava, stared at Faizan with impassive fury. He looked even more frightening than Faizan and was defying the order. He did not budge.
"Now," Faizan commanded with an icy edge to his tone. Ahsan strode slowly until he was eye to eye with Faizan, and even then Ahsan towered over him. "Now sit." Ahsan reluctantly obeyed and positioned himself a few inches beside me.
Faizan motioned towards the imam to come forward, and he knelt down in front of us, shuffling papers and pulling out a pen from his pocket.
Oh, no.
The imam cleared his throat, read a few prayers, and asked Ahsan the question. "Kya aap ko Hayat Ishfaq seh nikkah qubool hai?"
Do you accept matrimony with Hayat Ishfaq?
NO!
I stole a sideways glance at Ahsan. His eyes were black and he looked more terrifying. He glared at Faizan and the imam before impassively announcing, "Qubool hai."
No!
Ahsan did not bat an eye as he accepted the marriage union three times, and then signed the document.
No!
The imam shifted his focus to me and my heart throbbed violently. "Kya aap ko Ahsan Razak seh nikkah qubool hai?"
My lips trembled. I couldn't utter a single word. I didn't want to.
Faizan uncrossed his arms and sighed loudly. "I wish I didn't have to do this, but you leave me no choice, Hayat."
He strode over to where the children sat, pleading to me with their tear-filled eyes to try to help them.
Perhaps they now realized that I was just as helpless as they are.
Faizan place his hands on his knees as he spoke to the children in Arabic. "Which one of you wants to help Hayat get married today?"
The children huddled against one another, hoping that would keep them from harm's way.
"I guess I'll have to choose," Faizan muttered under his breath. He scanned the children's faces and stopped at little Sadah. He grabbed her long hair and dragged her in front of me.
"Alright Hayat," Faizan began as he pulled out a dagger from one of the pockets in his combat vest and placed it at the base of Sadah's throat. "Answer the imam's question."
"Q-qubool hai," I mumbled weakly, utterly defeated.
"Kya aap ko Ahsan Razak seh nikkah qubool hai?" The imam asked for a second time.
Faizan's eyebrows shot up as I sat in silence. He brought the sharpened dagger closer to Sadah's throat and she shivered in his tight grasp.
"Qubool h-hai."
"Kya aap ko Ahsan Razak seh nikkah qubool hai?" The third time.
I couldn't believe this was happening; everything was completely out of my control. I was getting married to a terrorist!
Because of my muteness, Faizan's jaw tightened as he yanked back Sadah's head so viciously and quickly sliced her throat, without a second thought.
"Qubool hai!" I screamed and Faizan abruptly let go of Sadah. I ran over to her before she fell to the ground and placed her head in my lap. "No, no, please no," I cried out as a heavy stream of blood flowed from her throat. "Sadah, no!"
Sadah gave me a small smile and her eyelids fluttered for a few seconds. Then she closed her eyes, forever.
"No!" I wailed as I cradled Sadah's lifeless little body in my arms. I hugged her, I kissed her, but she didn't respond. She didn't wake up.
Blood pooled on to my jilbaab, but I didn't care. What have I done?
The imam handed me the marriage document, with absolute disregard that I had a dead child in my arms. I scrawled my signature beside Ahsan's name with a shaky hand.
"Mabrook!" Faizan and the other men congratulated Ahsan and I with amusement.
Ahsan and I? I cringed at the fact that I had just agreed to a contractual marriage with an extremist.
Faizan grabbed my arm and brought me to stand by Ahsan.
Never in my life did I have more of a desire for the ground to swallow me up than right at this moment. These men were capable of doing anything.
"Ahsan, it's time to take your bride and consummate this union!" Faizan smiled wickedly to Ahsan, who stared angrily at him. "Tend to that while we prepare dinner. It's getting late. And don't forget to bring proof!"
I did not know what that meant, but I had a strong feeling that I would soon find out.
"Oh, by the way, Hayat." Faizan flashed a bright smile as Ahsan grabbed my arm, preparing to lead me out of the room. "Welcome to your new home."
Glossary:
~Faizan (FY-zaan)- name meaning "ruler"
~"Kya tum Urdu bol sakte ho?" (Urdu)- "Do you speak Urdu?"
~"Jee" (Urdu)- "Yes"
~Imam- an Islamic leadership position. It is most commonly in the context of a worship leader of a mosque
~Wali- the closest male and Muslim guardian of a bride-to-be who gives away the girl for marriage. In the event a father or other male mahram (male relatives) are not present, a qaadi (judge) or or an imam serves as the girl's wali
~"Kya aap ko Hayat Ishfaq/Ahsan Razak seh nikkah qubool hai?" (Urdu)- "Do you accept matrimony with Hayat Ishfaq/Ahsan Razak?"
~"Qubool hai" (Urdu)- "I accept"
~Ahsan Razak (Ah-saan Ra-zaak)- Ahsan: the best of all ; Razak: protector
~"Mabrook" (Arabic)- "Congratulations"