Ahsan tightly grasped me by the elbow and led me down a dark corridor on the left; only one gas lamp hung from the ceiling of the grim hallway. I was still sobbing as he dragged me down the passageway, but I noticed he loosened his grip on me as soon as we were distanced from the others.
He fetched a key from one of the many pockets in his combat vest, and unlocked the farthest door on the left.
A furnished door in a cave?
Ahsan opened the metal door and motioned me to go inside. It was only then I realized that my clothes were still wet and my sandals were beginning to wear out. With every step I took, drops of water fell from the hem of my dress as I examined the room.
It was a bland, but somewhat spacious room surrounded by four grey slabs of concrete walls. A rustic metal cot was aligned in the center of the wall in front of me. A well-bucket stood off on the floor on the left side, nearby a small wooden table. The space was dimly lit with a few gas lamps.
A bit of the sunset blaze shone through via a drilled hole in the corner of wall above the cot.
Apart from all this, the room was empty.
My soaked clothes did not help to give me warmth, especially since the room was absolutely freezing. I crossed my arms as tightly as I could, trying to keep in as much heat to myself as possible. My teeth chattered so loudly but I couldn't help it. The air was frigid and I felt as though I had just stepped into an igloo.
"Sit," Ahsan ordered, not caring that I was on the verge of freezing to death.
Sit where? There wasn't a chair anywhere!
I stared at him, utterly confused.
Then again, I certainly wasn't subject to five-star treatment here. I should not be surprised if there wasn't a chair in sight.
The floor, then?
"On the cot," Ahsan told me sternly. He eyed me intently with his glinting black eyes as I sat near the head of the cot. It only had a wired sleeping surface without a mattress, a pillow or a bed sheet. The criss-crossed wire that I was sitting on felt icy and frigid.
"Now stay here. Don't move." He suddenly exited the room, leaving me alone for a few minutes. I wondered what grave sin I had committed to deserve this. I saw two children get brutally murdered less than half an hour ago.
Just why?
Then, hot tears streamed down my face beyond my control, as most things were, and I couldn't seem to stop them; even my nose began to drip. I furiously wiped at my face with my sleeve when a strange scent filled my nose.
Damp blood from Sadah.
I looked down in horror; her blood was stained on my sleeves and it had not yet dried. I rubbed my face with my hands, hoping to wipe away any remnant of blood on my face, when a bundle of black cloth was swiftly thrown at my face. An abaya?
"Take off your jilbaab."
No!
When I didn't budge, I noticed Ahsan's jaw tighten under the balaclava.
Maybe it isn't a good idea to get this guy angry...
But should I strip in front of him just to save myself from being killed?
He inhaled deeply and inspected my tear-stained face. "I meant, I'll stand outside while you hand me the jilbaab through the door so I can dry it over a fire. Then I'll give it back to you and you can wear the jilbaab under the abaya to keep warm."
What?
I noticed something that I did not pay attention to earlier, even more so now that he spoke more than a few words. "Y-you...you're American," I faltered, absolutely shocked that an American would join a terrorist group like Al-Tho'baan.
Ahsan's jaw tightened even more and his black eyes narrowed. It was indescribably scary to speak to him in such an atmosphere without knowing what he looked like.
Not to mention, I had just agreed to marry him.
"I'm not."
"Y-your accent." I clutched the abaya tightly as I shook my head slowly at him. "It's American. It's n-not easy for a foreigner to pick up that accent so f-fluently."
His eyes narrowed even more, and he stared at me coldly. "What is it to you?" He hissed. I looked to the floor without responding to him. "Do you want warm clothes or not?" He snapped at me while I nodded slowly. "So hurry up. I don't have all day." He stepped out of the room and completely shut the door behind him.
I decided to change by the doorway in case he unexpectedly barged inside again. Pulling the bottom of my jilbaab over my head was such a relief; I was beginning to sweat and the dampness of the dress wasn't helping much. As I peered at myself, I realized my bra and underwear were also soaked. But there was no way I'd hand over my undergarments for Ahsan to dry. I would just have to cope with them the way they are.
Thinking of which, why did Ahsan want me to have warm clothes anyway?
He pounded on the other side of the door and barked, "Are you done?"
Without replying, I pried open the door just enough for my hand and jilbaab to fit through.
He retrieved it, his gloved hand brushing against my palm, and said, "Wait here."
I obeyed, leaning against my side of the door in just my undergarments. My hair was still damp. Gathering it together, I twisted my locks and squeezed them downwards for excess water to drip off.
After what seemed like forever, there was another knock on the door.
"It's me."
Cautiously, I creaked open the door a little and Ahsan stuck his gloved hand through, offering me the dry jilbaab. I slipped it on and warmth instantly took over, especially after putting the abaya on top.
"Done?" Ahsan asked after a few minutes.
"Yes," I replied and stepped away from the door, allowing him to gain entrance inside. "Thank you," I mumbled quietly, grateful for the new-found warmth.
He glanced at me for a few seconds, without acknowledging my gratitude, and motioned for me to go sit on the cot again. "Do you know what Faizan meant when he asked for consummation proof?"
My legs involuntarily clasped together tightly at the word consummation and I tried to avoid making eye contact with him. Ahsan noticed.
"No, I don't," I told him warily.
He sat down at the foot of the cot and said gravely, "It used to be a custom here that the bride and groom would show wedding guests that they had consummated the relationship."
No...
Was he serious? Why is he taking this "marriage" seriously?
My insides throbbed and my legs began to shake with anxiety. I gaped at Ahsan in horror as he continued.
"The groom would take a cloth and break the hymen of the bride, assuming she's a virgin, and present the cloth with blood stains to the people to prove the marriage had been consummated. If not, the marriage would be void," he informed me matter-of-factually. "And since Faizan wants proof, we'll have to prove this relationship had been consummated, won't we?"
I could hear my heartbeat drum within my ears louder than before, especially since Ahsan inched closer towards me.
This is it.
"I'm going to need cloth so I'll cut off a portion of the end of your dress." He wasn't seeking my permission; he was set on doing whatever he wanted no matter what. Ahsan pulled out a knife and reached down, without coming in contact with my skin, and cut out a six-inch square from the bottom of my dress below the abaya.
I stared down at my hands in my lap and felt hot tears blur my vision.
This is the end.
"But," he began as he fumbled with the pale blue cloth in his hands and unstrapped his left glove. "Since I have no intention of forcing myself on you, we'll have to make proof instead."
What?
Ahsan took the knife in his right hand and quickly sliced down the meaty area of his left palm.
What!
I watched as blood steadily dripped from his palm and hit the cloth, creating a small pool of crimson.
Did he just...
He didn't wince in pain at all. When he was satisfied with the amount of blood on the cloth, he took a deep breath and strapped his left glove back on.
"Follow me," he ordered sternly before any words flew out of my mouth.
I trailed behind him obediently while questions raced in my mind. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice that he stopped abruptly at the door, causing me to run headfirst into his back. "Sorry," I mumbled.
"You will act as though we have just consummated this marriage." Ahsan ignored my apology. "You will not tell anyone what I just did. Understood?"
I nodded furiously, but that wasn't enough for him.
"Yes or no?" He demanded.
"Yes, I understand."
He nodded once and led the way for me back into the main room where all the horrifying nonsense had occurred.
The children - thankfully, there were still ten of them - all sat cross-legged on the floor, eating their respective portions of dinner. They looked fairly happy to see me just as much as I was to see that they were unharmed. The brutal demise of their friends, Jamael and Sadah, seemed to have temporarily slipped their minds as they savored their first meal, consisting of flat bread and some sort of meat, in a long time.
I was just about to give them a reassuring smile when I remembered Ahsan had told me to act as though I was in pain, which wasn't difficult to do.
I scanned the room, in search for Rafaa, who was nowhere to be found. I hope she is okay.
One of the covered men motioned for me to sit in between the children and handed me my dinner plate. Faizan was in conversation with Ahsan a few steps away while the latter held up the blood-stained cloth. He glared at me, inaudibly ordering me to look sad, which I did. Faizan beamed with satisfaction and patted Ahsan on the back.
I shifted my focus to my bread and meat. The flat bread had the most glorious taste, most probably because it had been two days since anything had filled my stomach. The meat, however, had a strange flavor; it was edible nevertheless.
Faizan and some of the other men chuckled as they spoke loudly in Arabic, saying something I didn't quite understand. In an instant, the children began crying, choking and spitting out their food.
Huh?
Was the food poisoned? It didn't taste all that bad.
Faizan took his time striding towards me while I chewed on the meat and knelt down in front of me.
"Children taste great, don't they, Hayat?" Faizan asked me softly, his brown eyes examining every speck of my horrified expression.
Glossary:
~Abaya- a simple, loose over-garment, essentially a robe-like dress, worn by some women in parts of the Muslim world. The abaya, often black, covers the whole body except the face, feet, and hands.