Hafiz.
I leaned against her door for a long time, emotions all over the place.
'Who can I lash out at?'
The way she said that...her expression...it was as if...
As if...
As if she had no fucking say in the matter.
Seriously were all the females in this damn country such white lotuses? They sure could put on an act. Looking at it logically, she had the most to gain in this whole damn situation.
She got to leave this hot and shit—stuffy country.
She got to live in luxury, having enough money to live the rest of her life in comfort.
Now that I looked at it, she was no different from all those women who came to clubs, looking for a rich man to latch on to like bloodsucking parasites.
I wonder if she could give her body up for riches. It's sort of annoying how hard she's trying to appear modest and chaste. If I could have her...
Say what I wanted, but there was no denying I was attracted to her; heavily so.
I wanted to fuck her.
And then break her.
And then throw her away.
All of a sudden, I felt eager to marry her. I could do whatever I wanted to her then, openly; honourably.
I chuckled at that.
There was nothing honourable about what I wanted to do to her.
"Why are you standing there and grinning like a possessed person?"
I met Father's eyes filled with bewilderment and slight worry. At what, I didn't even want to ponder about.
"I'm more sane than any damn person in this house," I snorted.
"Don't take that tone with me," he warned.
"Or what? You're going to hit me? Like that day? I might have let it slide once, but there is CCTV footage as evidence. Do it, and I'll report you to the authorities for abuse," I smirked. "How does 'Shocking! Tycoon Hakimi is actually a tyrant, beats son half to death' sound for a headline?"
His eye twitched in annoyance, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose in what appeared to be exasperation.
I almost laughed, this was a side of him I had never seen before. I talked a big game, but I didn't have the guts to actually report him. I wasn't stupid, damage to him was synonymous with damage to me.
'Young Hakimi is a punching bag, says a lot about his lack of morals.'
I couldn't wash myself white even if I bleached myself with chemicals.
"You can try it if you want to be labelled a pretty wuss, or a wussy," he jested but the humour was lost on me. His words triggered something in me, something I had been suppressing and ignoring for years.
I heard a snap in my head and before I realised, my fist was flying towards his face. There was a ringing in my ears, a fire in my chest, something clawing its way up my throat.
A panic attack.
It seemed many scenes flashed by my eyes, it felt like I was shrinking, losing my body mass, suspiciously like I was drowning. Or maybe floating.
The sharp sting of flesh meeting flash brought me back to my senses. My eyes focused on my fist held within a large warm palm.
"What do you think you're do—"
"Let go!" I threw his hand off and staggered back, breathing heavily. My back was drenched in sweat as my fingers trembled. "Fuck!"
"Hafiz what's wrong wit—"
"Shut up!" I hissed and shouldered past him. I pushed open the door to the room I was inhabiting and turned around to look at him. "Like that didn't happen before," I smiled derisively.
He looked taken aback.
"But what do you know?" I whispered.
His eyes widened, expression a mixture of worry and confusion. Gritting my teeth, I slammed the door enough to bring it off its hinges.
"Unbelievable!" I punched the wall, the sharp pain chasing away the last remnants of my panic attack.
"Unbelievable," I whispered, slumping down to the floor and leaning against the door. I drew my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around my legs and buried my head between my knees, pushing my kneecaps against my ears to muffle the sound of my panting.
"Somebody...he...lp...me..."
...anybody...
*******
"No way right? He's a boy?"
"He looks more delicate than my little sister!"
"Why's he so dark though?"
"Does he have like, a disease or something? So ugly!"
"I know! My big brother calls boys like him wussy!"
"Haha, what does that mean? It sounds cute."
"I guess it's sort of like a sissy? Pussy? Or a wimp? Anyway, boys like this in their school are made to wear female clothes because there's nothing manly about them at all!"
"Sounds fun!"
"Hey, I think you'll look pretty good in female clothes! Wanna try?"
The world blackened, and a different scene flashed by. A young boy, dressed in a pink dress and flailing about in a pool; drowning.
And yet they looked on, laughing.
They were always laughing.
"Always remember, everything is her fault."
"Never forget Hafiz, you were just a convenience for me. Something to throw away after being used, worthless."
"Amina never loved you. She did it all for the sake of money and status."
"She's bewitched your father."
"Even your father hates you, why else is he never around?"
"I alone love you Hafiz, only me."
I just wanted it to go quiet.
The jumbled voices, the laughter and jeers, why can't it all just disappear?
Why?
*******
I opened my eyes to a dark room.
It seems I had a dream, I couldn't remember what it was about though. Or maybe, I didn't want to actively think about it.
Dragging my sore body off the ground, I trudged to the bathroom to take a hot shower. The number of things a hot shower couldn't fix was minuscule after all.
When I was done, I dressed in loose royal blue silk pyjamas before throwing myself on the bed, groaning when my sore limbs protested. I searched around for my phone and brought it up to my face.
12:09.
"Shit, no wonder I was so fucking sore. I slept like that for six hours!?"
Worried I might die from stunted blood circulation or something, I stood up to do some stretches and light exercises to get my blood pumping. After a set of eleven stretches, I felt much better so I decided to go downstairs to scavenge for food.
The house was quiet, with all lights off. I had to go back to my room and get my phone to use as a flash. When I entered the kitchen, I rummaged through the fridge for something edible and normal.
I found nothing.
There were only raw ingredients in there, I didn't fancy myself a caveman.
Slapping the door shut, I flashed around the kitchen when a grey food warmer caught my eye. I walked over and pushed it open to see a generous serving of spaghetti lying inside.
Thankful as fuck, I circled the room for a fork and plate, fixed myself a cup of tea, and hopped on the counter to eat.
When I finished, I washed my silverware and set them to dry below heading back to the staircase. Before I could go up though, I noticed soft seeping out from the door a few feet from the stairs.
It was their mosque I think.
I walked over and pushed it open, before stepping in and closing it behind me. I saw Aliya leaning against the wall by my right, eyes focused on the book she was holding.
My entrance broke her attention and she looked towards me, the confused look in her eyes turning to surprise.
"You're awake?" She whispered.
I walked towards her and sat beside her, leaving two feet of space between us. "Yeah. Why are you here? Couldn't sleep?"
"Yes," she went back to looking at the book in her hands. The Arabic words appeared blurred under the warm orange light. I took my gaze away, unwilling to take another glance.
"Wait, you're inside our mosque!" She suddenly gasped, jumping to her feet. "You can't be in here! You need to leave," she said firmly.
I frowned, mood souring. "Why?"
"You're impure," she said earnestly.
Normally, I would flare up at that. But I was drained tonight so I just smiled blandly. "That so? How?"
"Well for one, you don't purify yourself after intercourse," she said solemnly.
"Pft!" I laughed. "You mean sex? Who the fuck says intercourse at this age and time?" I asked, amused.
"You shouldn't say that in the mosque," she chided, sitting back down again. "Medical students."
"What?"
"Medical students, they say intercourse."
"No they don't, I have friends who are doctors," I chuckled.
"I don't think your friends count. They should all be hedonists like you," she muttered.
"I'm not a hedonist," I snorted. "You shouldn't call others that, it's offensive."
"And trying to hit your father in the face is disrespectful."
"You saw?" I froze.
She said nothing.
I also kept quiet.
It took a moment before I managed to say a sentence, "I didn't realise."
"What are you doing here? You should leave," she said in reply.
I made myself comfortable by sliding down and lying on my back. "Don't mind me, just carry on."
She threw me an annoyed glare before standing up and moving to the other side of the room. She then began to recite.
Though I couldn't quite decipher what she was reading, the humming sound lulled me to sleep. I was woken up by a foot nudging against me.
"Wake up and go back to your room," Aliya gazed at me from above before heading for the door.
I stood up and strolled after her, admiring how small and short she was. I wanted to fit her in my arms, to see how well she would settle.
Probably compactly.
She reached her room first and she entered without looking back, closing the door softly after her.
Shaking my head, I entered the room opposite hers. Still woozy from my earlier nap, I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow.