Harun POV:
In the tiny search window, cursor blinking on and off, my fingers hesitated above the keyboard. Closing my eyes, I took a brave, deep breath before continuing. Then I typed missing people, and immediately the glowing screen came to life. Pages and pages of new sites, small town papers, social media pages, and many, many stories shuffled up. There was endless cases to solve.
Before long, I'd fallen down a rabbit hole of missing persons cases from all over the kingdom. I skimmed message board after message board, and so far, I noticed there was no luck. According to Daniel, he was giving his best shot in solving these cases, but for my point of view, he was a mighty failure.
The number of missing sites was rocketing up to the sky now. Each day a someone was gone missing, someone was raped. Someone was in dire need of help, and here I was just sitting helplessly in my new car unable to do anything for them.
I had to do something.
So, I started my own podcast directed towards the missing people. I kept myself anonymous, my voice disguised with filters. The LDA, short for Laptop Detective Agency that Daniel introduced me to does most of the work though, bringing me clues and tips and self-organizing into an online community. I compile the research, sift through the clues and choose the cases to focus on, and record, edit, and upload the podcast.
Some victims started reaching out, but so far, we've only uncovered a few things; this particular group of high-tier masked criminals were alarmingly dangerous and anonymous. They always wore black whatsoever wherever they went. If someone exposed the slightest information about them, they were taken away or simply murdered.
With a deep breath, I start recording after locking my car doors and pulling down the blinds.
Host: A seventeen-year-old vanished into thin air. His family and friends have no idea where he might have disappeared. He leaves behind no traces, no clues. Or does he?
Almost a hundred people are reported missing this month. If we pay attention, if we work together, maybe we can bring some of them home. Is there something you can do to help? Listen up. Let's try.
I am the seeker, and this is RadioRecovery.
When I'm finished, I click upload, and no sooner it's live.
I immediately got a call from Daniel. He was the guy who suggested this after I had endlessly complained to him about my helpless status to the world.
"Hey Harun," Daniel ordered hastily, his voice quick and busy from the other end. "I saw what you posted. Erase your browsing history, use a private browser, and I repeat do not use your real name. Never slip up--"
He has been saying the same thing again and again ever since I started this thing. "I thought you already told me this--"
"I know. You don't understand the severity, on the other end is a murderous mob we're a dealing with. They have a leader, and he's sadistic. Just like us, they're are tracking my men down, especially detectives. I feel like they have their own mob of detectives doing research on us, on our detective who are aware of them. As soon as one of my detective uncover something, they are gone missing before their investigation comes to our hands. They never come home. Listen, if you sense something suspicious, drop everything, don't bother going back to this job. It's one of dangerous cases I'm dealing with. I feel like it's gonna be a great fall for our kingdom!"
"Hey don't say that?" I interfered. "We'll get through this victoriously, once and for all."
"Yeah," He sighed depressingly, "Hey, I can't talk anymore, middle of my brother's engagement right now. Seriously, I don't even understand why I should even be here in the first place. Not like I'm the main focus here!"
I laughed. "Yeah, see ya at school."
"Assalamu Alaikum,"
"Walaikum Assalam," I answered, ending the call.
Was I doing the right thing? Was there someone hunting me down?
I got out of my car and staggered up the last steps of the porch and into the house after a long day at school, struggling to take my shoes off.
"This is like Umme Q's thirtieth suitor," Dad scoffed from the living room, his voice loud enough to reach my ears. Immediately the warning bell began banging off in my head, and I knew I entered at the wrong moment. If they saw me, I'd be their next target. Since I was almost eighteen, they saw me as an eligible candidate for marriage since they were married off at a similar age.
"Correction, tenth suitor!" Umme Qulsum snapped.
I froze standing in the foyer, my eyes darting in every direction from the marble tiles to the door. How was I going to leave the house without making the floorboards creak or without the door clicking shut behind me? Oh Allah, why have I entered the house now?
"So marry him!" Gramma argued. Wait, gramma was here?
That means they've all got Umme Qulsum surrounded good. She was definitely their prey, and no sooner I would be hearing her plotted marriage date ready. If I made my grand entrance now, I would be a victim of it as well.
I was doomed.
"He has the largest nose!" Umme Qulsum scoffed, her voice dramatically loud enough.
"Nose, seriously Qulsum?" Gramma yelled. "This is ridiculous! The last one was big feet--"
"Well, she's a picky one. She's checking out all her suitors, even their feet." Gramps joked, his laughter echoing around the house.
"Daaad!" Umme Qulsum whined. I was pretty sure she was beet red by now for getting caught for checking out guys.
"Who cares if they have big feet or big nose? You're marrying this one!" Gramma declared. "He's a hafiz, some distant relative to Nuh, and I don't care if he has his nose sharp as a mountain. You're marrying him!"
"What if he's pimply?" Umme Qulsum asked innocently, her voice soft and inaudible for me to hear.
Dad and Gramps bursted out laughing, but Gramma soon silenced them. "This is serious!"
"I mean... I'd do the same thing if I were Umme Q." Dad laughed.
"Enough, stop supporting her. She'll never get married like this, she's already twenty now. We pampered her too much! Next guy, I don't care if his pimples are as big as the hill or his nose as sharp as the bull's horn, you're marrying him. Understood?"
"Come on, mom stop being so unsympathetic--"
"Harun, stop eavesdropping and come out!" Dad shouted, and I immediately jumped up like a deer caught in headlight. Crap, how did dad know?
Forcefully, I sauntered towards the living room plastering a forced smile. Gramps and Gramma were seated in one of the three seated couches, Umme Qulsum and Dad took the other one, while mom just sat on a chair and listened to the raging arguments with boredom. "Assalamu alaikum!"
"Ah yes, my boy Harun, we need a bride!" A threatening smile broke loose on Gramps's lips. Oh wow, right on topic without a beat!
I really gotta flee from this zone before they literally brought in the bride and red carpet.
"Oh, but I think gramma is already enough for you. No need for second marriages!" I played Musa's cards here, flipping the question back at him.
"No, no, it's for you--"
"Oh, you smell that, I'm sweating!" I hollered, my voice booming unnaturally loud as I panicked to escape this situation. "Imma just head up, and take a shower."
Umme Qulsum gave me a desperate look for help pouting her lips, but I ignored her. I mean she was twenty, and she did need a suitor badly. Not me!
Without wasting a second, I rushed up the stairs taking two a step and into my bedroom throwing my bag on my tidy bed and wrestling out of my shirt. True enough, I was drenched in sweat from running laps at school, I means all the guys were. The girls, however, were different species. Talk about Halima for instance, she ran ten laps in five minutes and sat on the bleacher watching us all finish up huffing and puffing. I'd bet she didn't even break a sweat!
"You didn't even give me a heads up!" Musa stumbled in my room with a frown, arriving from school in his legendary red backpack and jacket. His backpack hung from one of his shoulders as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"About?"
"Downstairs, they freakin' asked me if I had a girl in mind, but thankfully dad came to my rescue telling Gramps how stupid and unprepared I was with life. He thinks I need to stop fooling around and stop thinking about the circus all the time. But, if this is what shuts my family's mouth from pestering me, then I shall never change!" Musa declared, vowing with his hand pointed in the air.
"I never understand why dad always has your back, and never mine." I sighed, ransacking my closet for a clean shirt.
"Well, you're capable of everything--"
"Just get out!" I glared at him, pointing at the door.
"Sheesh, I'm going! No need to get you pants in a twist!" Musa laughed with his hands raised, shutting the door behind as he retired to his room.
In my isolated sanctuary, I sighed once again with my eyes closed. There was no way I was getting married, not now when I had so much to accomplish in life. I needed to get into university, be a detective, and solve these mysterious case once and for all. I needed to solve these cases now before they ran wild.
********
Umme Qulsum POV
"Whatcha doing?" I poked my nose in Musa's business.
"Watch and learn! You people are sooo dumb!" Musa scoffed, his goggle-covered eyes were focused on his experiment before him. Once again, he was blowing up one of his mischiefs in the living room with a garbage bag laid on the dining table where he was filling an airless ball with liquid cement. His plastic gloved hands were smeared with liquid concrete that he was forcefully pumping in the ball.
"You're dumb!" I playfully punched his forearm, he had his sleeves pulled up leaving his arms exposed. "Seriously, what are doing with cement? You're suppose to pump a ball with air, not cement!"
"I'll prove it to you later."
"Does Huzaifah even know your using his garage stuff?"
"No," Musa scoffed, working away with his experiment with a smirk. "When did I ever ask dad before doing something?"
"Yeah, obviously, when did you?" I spat sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
"I'm making a ball out of cement," He smirked, looking at me from the corner of his goggles as if it was the world's first discovery.
"You do realize it's not going to bounce right?" I raised my eyebrows, silently praying he didn't lose his head at such a young age.
"Yup,"
"So?"
"You'll see," He smiled with mischief lingering on his lips. "Once this thing is dried up in an hour."
"Guys, I want the house clean!" Hawa poked her head in the room, her eyebrows immediately scrunched up once her eyes fell on Musa's experiment. "Musa, what the hell are you doing? We are having guests over, and you are carrying out your experiment in the living room, are you out of your mind? Why are you playing with cement in the first place?"
"Uh..." Musa looked at me guiltily, before replacing his face with a bright convincing smile. "I don't know Mama, I was just tryna be a mini dad."
"What?" His mom screamed with horror. "Don't you think you're dad is already enough to make me go crazy--"
"Well, add me on the list too!"
"You ruthless potato!" Hawa slapped him on the arm. "Ay, Harun bring in the stick, he needs some beating?"
"Coming!" Harun shrieked from upstairs.
"Mama, don't you think I'm too old for beatings?" Musa whined, throwing his head back.
"That's it, I want this room clean in an hour before Hurairah and your grandparents come over. Understood?" Hawa lectured with her hands on her hips, pinching the bridge of her nose with frustration. "Qulsum, you're helping him too!"
"I didn't do any of this--"
"Stop coming up with excuses! You were with him, you helped him carry out his stupidity, you're cleaning up the mess. That's final!"
"Mama, it's just Uncle Hurairah, and you know how best buddies we are. He really doesn't care how I look. Our first impressions was already great and tightly bonded."
"I said, I don't care!" Hawa glared at him with a snap, stopping his endless arguments.
Harun breathlessly appeared, panting as he clutched onto his knees carrying one large branch in his hand. "Mama, I cut this stick freshly from the yard!"
"Oh, I was merely joking!" Hawa laughed sheepishly, taking the stick anyway.
"Aww man, come on. I was hoping for a nice holy ceremony where Musa would be beaten!" Harun sighed, shoving his hand through his tousled hair. "I've even bought popcorn yesterday!"
"How dare you be rude to your younger brother?" Hawa hit his arm with the branch. "He's learning and watching you--"
"Jeez, I'm sorry!" Harun apologized, jumping away from the scene. "If I'd known I'd be hit instead, I would've saved the energy."
"Qulsum and Musa, clean the house! Musa, you even dropped cement on the floor, why couldn't you do your experiment in the garage?" She shoved a mop and a broom in our hands to sweep the mess Musa created. "I don't even want a single stain, do you understand?"
"Yes ma'am," Me and Musa chorused, taking the broom and mop and getting to work right away.
"Aw man, Uncle Hurairah can't slip his way in anymore!" Musa sighed, prancing around with his wet mop in hand, drenching the floor with a bucket of water. He swung his mop stick around the floor, thrashing and banging into things as he danced to his mind's music.
"Well, the amount of water you're using, he'll definitely slip in. Falling head first!" I laughed, cleaning after his experimental spills.
As hours flew by, me and Musa strived painfully to make the house spotless clean. At last, I collapsed on the couch, sighing and closing my eyes for a moment to retreat from my tiredness.
"Hey, did you know you can knock someone out with a pan? If Rapunzel can do it, so can I?" Musa confidently declared his statement, pointing his mop stick to the ceiling. "Right Haruna-akhi?"
Harun gave us a weird look as he entered the room, passing by us. "Should I try it on you?"
"No, no," Musa quickly defended, raising his hand. "I mean hypothetically?"
"Hey, you ruined my ball!" Harun stopped at Musa's experimental station in the living room with a tight scowl.
"Uh... hehe," Musa nervously chuckled, his hand flying to his nape. "Things come and go, right?"
"Bro, this was my fifth-grade basket ball that you deflated... and pumped it up with cement?" Harun stopped to examine the ball with a severe frown, cautiously touching it as if it'll blow up any minute. "What the hell did you do to it? It's all hard now!"
"Don't touch it!" Musa shouted, bolting towards his ball and producing a cutter blade from his pockets. "Let me do the honour ladies and gentlemen!"
Me and Harun peered over his shoulders to see the results of his experiment as he cautiously cut out the plastic ball and disposed it, revealing a gigantic cement ball sitting in the center of the table. "Ta da!" Musa exclaimed cheerfully with open arms. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. "Tell me your plans?"
"You just wait and see!" He winked, examining his hard cement ball with curiosity.
The doorbell rang, and my sister and her husband stepped in saying their greetings before entering and kicking off their shoes. Luckily, I had my scarf on, and Musa's moping a few hours ago had left the floor dried. No wonder my sister and her husband didn't fall face down on the floor.
"Watch and learn!" Without a notice, Musa swung the cement ball up in the air and right towards Abu Hurairah.
What the hell was wrong with this kid?
"Duck!" I screamed alarmingly to my cousin who seemed too ignorant to notice the upcoming ball.
"Duck? I thought I was 'Cat'? What's with the nicknames--" He started. Luckily, my sister came to the rescue and saved his poor head by pulling him down while the ball swiveled in the air, and crashed loudly with the living room window.
A booming clash erupted, and thousands of glass shards flew in the air like droplets of rain in a cloudy morning.
"What's happening?" My brother and his wife rushed in, their jaws dropping once they saw the scene before them, their window shattered.
"Who did that?" Huzaifah screamed, looking at us three with his eyes growing big as a saucer, rage seeping into his voice. "Why does these adults standing before me act like a mere three-year-old?"
"Musa!" Harun accused calmly with his hands stuffed in pockets.
"What was the point of all this again?" I hissed to Musa, who shrugged telling me once again to observe him.
"You are paying for this window, do you hear me?" Huzaifah screamed, pointing at Musa. "I want this window replaced by nightfall--"
"Ooo, I'll get a job at the circus right now!" Musa cheerfully scrambled to rush the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
"Hold on there mister!" Hawa stopped him in his tracks, pulling him in the living room by the back of his shirt, and Musa spun around to look at his mom with eagerness. "There's no circus business in this house... Huzaifah just replace the window!"
"He's the one who broke it!" Huzaifah argued. "He's not going to learn until he replaces it!"
"Replace it for now, he'll pay you back for it later!" Hawa sighed, glaring harshly at Musa. "This boy will never grow up, will he?"
"Nope," Abu Hurairah answered. "Let's just face it, he's just stupid!"
"How dare you?" Musa gasped dramatically.
"You shouldn't have done that!" Safoora tutted, shaking her head side to side in disappointment, staring at the broken window before her.
"Take a seat, all three of you!" My brother yelled, and we all obediently pulled up a seat to save ourselves from his wrath.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Nothing!" Harun said calmly. "I was just passing by..."
"Umme Q?" My brother raised his eyebrow. "Surely, you've taken part in this crime? You always do!"
"No, it was all Musa!" I blamed, pointing at the idiot who sat next to me trying to conceal his confident smirk.
"Musa, what do you have to say for all this?" Huzaifah started, trying to simmer down his volcanic anger with his hands fisted by his sides.
"Umm, at least, we'll get a new window!" Musa smiled sheepishly, and I facepalmed myself. Not the right moment doofus!
"I mean the window did look pretty old--" Safoora helped him, still staring at the window with disappointment.
"Not helping Saff!" Huzaifah screamed furiously. "This boy is an idiot, a mind blowing idiot! All he does is eat, sleep, ride in his car, and dreams to be a clown--"
"You forgot the 'hanging out with his friends' part!" Musa innocently corrected, and me and Harun turned away our faces trying to choke in our laughter as Huzaifah bursted up with anger again.
"This is not life, you idiot of a son!" Huzaifah screamed with rage, shaking Musa by his shoulders. "You can't be a damn clown. You've got to step up your game. Be something meaningful! Snap out of it all! Stop giving me and your mom a hard time, and stop wasting your life! One day you'll just regret wasting your life like this, when I won't be able to help you. I want you to think about what you did, upstairs now. All three of you!" He pointed at the stairs up ahead.
Bregrudgingly, me, Musa, and Harun took the stairs up to rooms since Huzaifah couldn't bear the sight of us any longer.
"Thanks so much, Musa! Now my whole day is ruined!" Harun broke the silence sarcastically once we arrive on the upper landing. He stomped in his room, and closed the door with a slam.
"So, was it worth it?" I crossed my arms, and waited for Musa's answers.
"So, damn worth it!" Musa cheered, pumping his fists in the air. He ushered me to the stairs, and together we eavesdropped in the adult's conversation downstairs. We both crotched down, pressing our ears to the wall and listening in their boring talks.
"That boy is so damn stupid, and my dad wants him married." Huzaifah started. "Seriously, this boy isn't ever growing up, and even if he does it'll be when he's in his thirties. Until then, he'll probably never get a job, he'll ruin our lives, and a wife is totally out of question. Until he doesn't get over his bizarre characteristics, I'm never getting him married. He needs to snap out of all this before he ruins more lives--"
"Yessss!" Musa cheered silently, pumping his fist in the air. "Mission accomplished!"
"Nice!" I smiled, but sadly that won't work for me. Everyone already knew me inside and out too well, and I was known for my good characteristics. This behaviour seriously won't work for me!
"See, now that's how you convince your parents," Musa smirked, "My life's particularly a vacation now since dad's declaration. Can you believe it, I'm never getting married until I'm thirty?"
"I heard!"
👑👑👑
**********
Halima POV:
"Can I do a hairstyle for you? I'm so bored!" Mymoonah groaned, slumping on my bed with her long braid spilling everywhere. Her extra weight on the bed made Umme Qulsum's books fly up in the air and scatter papers everywhere; psychological papers that had endless notes scribbled on it, endless lists to accomplish were showered all over the room.
"Mymoonah, stop jumping around!" Umme Qulsum rebuked, gathering the papers with a frown.
I sighed. When has my room become the 'Girl's Hang Out Room'? Except for mom and dad, the girls were always here, doing their homework and leisure work right here and under my nose every evening.
"Please, Halima. Pleassse!" Mymoonah begged, pouting her lips. "Please!'
"No," I snapped, listening to an infamous missing news podcast that had started growing audience and listeners at a fast rate. A podcast that left their host anonymous.
"Please! Aunty, you?" She waited for Umme Qulsum to give her her consent.
"Nope, hon. Not now!" Umme Qulsum mumbled, studying her notes away, preparing for her upcoming test. "Next time perhaps?"
"Halima, please!" She cried repeatedly, getting on my nerves as she continued her endless begging trails. Can't this girl ever leave me alone?
"Fine, fine," I sighed, slamming my device down on my table. "Just one simple hairstyle, then you're leaving me alone. Once and for all!"
"Yess!" Mymoonah cheered, pumping her fist in the air.
"Now hurry up, I haven't got all day!"
She scrambled towards the dressers, producing a bunch of hairbands and a black comb. She rushed to my side already working on my hair skillfully, pulling every now and then at my scalp.
"Don't pull my hair off!" I groaned when Mymoonah pulled one of the strand a little too harshly. "Not looking for baldness anytime soon."
"No worries," She continued on nonetheless, "I'll give you the best hair style ever! It's called the ultimate French Braid!"
"Just do it quick!"
As she wrestled with my hair, I continued listening to the missing news podcast. The host was an anonymous being, his voice filtered as he spoke about the recent victims. Many comments erupted, people were trying to help. But, those who survived as victims were silent, in the shadows since there life was at stake. They were threatened to keep their mouth shut by the rivals. So far, this kingdom was nowhere, not stepping up there game. Not that I wanted them to, they'd die if they did.
"I'm done! Ta da!" Mymoonah jumped up and down in glee, examining me from every side. "Aunty look, doesn't Halima look so beautiful?"
Umme Qulsum looked up with a smiled, staring at my braid. "Yeah, looks pretty cool on her!"
"Do you want one?" Mymoonah looked at her with her eyes shining with anticipation.
"Not today, hon."
"Oh... Okay." Mymoonah's eyes snapped back at me, and she took out my airpods from my ear. "You have to see the mirror, you look gorgeous!"
The mirror?
Colours drained off my face. I hated the mirror.
I've been avoiding it for years, only staring at it when necessary. It was a haunted things, showing things which I never wanted to witness ever in my life.
"Come on!" She pulled my hands eagerly with a smile.
"No," I pushed myself back. "No... just go away Mymoonah--"
"But, aren't you gonna look at my hard work?" She cried, using one of her signature pouts.
"No--"
"Halima--"
"I said no!" I snapped loudly, making her take a sudden step back at my outburst. There was no way I was looking in that mirror and seeing that woman stare right at me again with her knife jabbed in her heart. Her sad smiles and sadistic eyes tarnished my mind. How long will this woman haunt me for?
"Fine," Mymoonah yelled with her hands fisted while anger coloured her face. "Be like that! Just know, I was trying to be the best sister, but you never ever care about me--"
"I do--"
" You know what? Whatever, I don't care. We don't need to be sister. We should just drop this act and move our ways. Maybe Allah made a mistake making us siste--"
"What insolence is this?" Umme Qulsum frowned, closing her textbook shut with a slam and glaring at Mymoonah. "You're going to apologize to her!"
"No, she's the one being rude!" Mymoonah yelled. "She doesn't even appreciate me!"
"I do--" I tried, telling her softly.
"I've always made her happy, tried to keep her happy, but she never is. She's always getting loved by mom and dad. She's their favourite child; she gets everything. But, whatever happens, she never gives me a single glance. She hates me!"
"Apologize, Mymoonah!" Umme Qulsum glared.
"That's fine," I tried telling Umme Qulsum.
"Even you hate me, Aunty!" Mymoonah's eyes betrayed her, and tears slid down. She rushed out of the room, slamming our door shut with her indefinite rage.
"Ugh, I so messed up!" I sighed regretfully, covering my face with my hands. "It's not my fault I can't smile enough and act cheerful like her. That's how I am! Sometimes I wish I could be like her, think the world is all rainbows and unicorns, but that's not reality. There's a price for every little thing. Even if you're happy, it's just a single temporary moment before the dark clouds whisk you away. This world is not a happily-ever-after, it's not a fairytale."
"I get it, she's just a moody teenager. We all went through that phase!" Umme Qulsum rolled her eyes.
"She thinks I don't appreciate her--"
"She'll realize that later. Some people just need to hit their adult life to realize everything they were blind to as a kid."
"Yeah..."
"Halima, can we talk?" Umme Qulsum stared at me with her eyes narrowed suspiciously, sitting on my bed with her her hands folded on her lap.
"We are talking!"
"No, like really talk?" She got up, checking the windows and closing them tight. She locked the door tightly, and then pulled up a seat next to mine at my desk. "Let's face our fears, shall we?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about?" I lied.
Umme Qulsum held my hands in her hand, and gave it a squeeze. "I promise I won't utter a single word to your parents, sister, or doctor. Not a single soul. Whatever you stay, stays in my heart and in this room, okay?"
I nodded slightly, not knowing if this was a good idea.
"I know you've been to many psychologist, and you've lied your way through with made up stories." She laughed. "But, you can't fool me, Halima. I see through you! I'll be your new psychologist, and I'll help you through this. This isn't business. This is me, helping my friend. Not with money, but with the heart."
She produced a huge mirror, and shone it towards me. I immediately looked away at the sight of the bloody woman replacing my reflection, closing my eyes tight. Not her again, please.
"You need to conquer your fears, Halima. Take a deep breath and look inside!" She told me softly, squeezing my hands, urging me to look in. "Tell me exactly what you see!"
Wow, I was such a coward!
Taking a deep breath, I stared at my reflection. No not my reflection, that dead woman who haunted my dreams, who haunted the mirrors ever since I was a child, and this woman pretended to play alive by sitting in the next neighboring car after school back when I was little.
I stared into her eyes, my eyes that were empty, lifeless, and hollow. Her crimson lips parted, blood dripping down to her chin. Her snow pale cheeks gave her a ghostly vibe, and her dark hair was like the midnight sky, pitch and black. Her chest was where the black-hilted knife was, stuck fair and square on her heart. Blood oozed out bathing her body downwards.
She smiled at me, a sad smile. Was she pitying me or was she trying to haunt me?
"What do you see, Halima?" Umme Qulsum urged, her hand on mine holding me firmly.
My voice remained dry and speechless. "I..."
"You can do this Halima, I believe in you. I'm here for you even if no one is."
I gulped, running low of oxygen in my lungs. Taking a deep breath, I tell her what I see. "I see a woman. She's there in my nightmares, the mirror, and she also pretends to be a pedestrian down the road. Sometimes she even walks next to me, but when I reach out she either runs away or vanishes."
"Is she in the mirror, Halima?" Umme Qulsum again softly, staring at the mirror trying hard to see what I see. "Right now?"
"Yes," I breathed.
"Explain her to me,"
"Her eyes... are lifeless and hollow. She's bathed in blood, it's oozing everywhere. Everywhere! I so badly wanna help her," I reach out towards the mirror to touch the hilt of the knife and pull it out, but I can't because she's on the other side of the mirror.
"Continue," Umme Qulsum urged, cupping my hands in hers.
I peel my eyes off this woman and stare at Umme Qulsum now biting my lips, wondering how much information will make her life suffer in misery and how much won't.
No, she'll definitely perish if I continue on.
"That's all!" I mumbled.
"Halima, I'm afraid," Umme Qulsum started with a long pause, continuing to stare into my eyes. "It seems you are either a witness or a victim of trauma!"