I wasn't planning on updating this weekend but someone *cough* emotionally blackmailed me with this redheaded kid I can't say no to :P (I was going to share a picture but I didn't ask for permission so maybe next time :P)
Edit: Got permission :P See? He's so fluffaaay!
Post your reactions as you read ^^
"I'm sorry, Salma!" Asim muttered as his eyes pricked. "I'm so, so sorry."
His phone continued to ring. In the dark, the blaring screen notified him of an incoming call. Asim swallowed the lump in his throat, and turned away from the phone. He was not ready to face the person at the other end of the line.
"It's your fault, you hear me!" James's accusing voice rang in his ears, "It's all your fault!"
A minute later, the phone turned silent. The luminescent figures of the wall clock showed that it was a quarter past eleven. Asim was not particularly eager to sleep, but like everyone else in the house, he retired to his room early to escape the dread and misery that was eating them all up inside.
That day, the search team was to brief the families of their progress so far. However, the detective who was supposed to hold the meeting got into an accident and the briefing was delayed. To say that Asim was anxious about it, would have been an understatement. Every day, since his arrival, Asim, Claire and her blond friend, Niall has been hounding professor R.K. and each other, desperately inquiring about a word from the search team, or Zayn, or Salma.
The phone started ringing again. Sighing, Asim closed his eyes and rested his head against the headrest. James was beyond mad at him. A day after he arrived home, Asim made the mistake of attending the phone when James called home. James asked him why he was home and where was Salma? Asim had no answer.
He soon found out about the accident. Asim did not know how, but James managed to get his hands on his new number. From that minute on, James did not let a second pass by without reminding Asim of what he had done. James believed it was his fault and Asim believed James had every right to take his anger out on him. He had requested him to take care of Salma and Asim had not taken him seriously.
James may appear rude and insensitive, but when it came to the people he cared for, he loved and protected them, giving them his all. Asim was not surprised that he had a feeling something was about to go wrong with Salma. He would know, he loved her to bits. Heck! Everyone loved her to bits. Salma was just that person. She made people feel happy when she was around. No one in their right mind would not like her if they knew her.
The phone turned silent a second time. Asim stared at it uneasily. He just did not know what to say to him, or Dean, Mum or Anne. Although the others did not blame him like James did, Asim held himself responsible for all of their grief.
When the phone started ringing a third time , Asim picked it up. Staring at the screen, he was surprised to see it was Dean. James had called Asim with Dean's number before to give him a piece of his mind, so he hesitated.
"Asim!" Dean's voice came through the phone when he finally attended the call.
"Hi Dean," he croaked in reply.
"Gosh Asim! Why wouldn't you pick up?" Dean scolded, "I was so worried!"
Asim swallowed uneasily.
"I'm sorry," he replied, his voice hoarse.
"It's a relief to know you are alive," Dean sighed. "Anyway, how are things at home?"
It never ceased to amaze Asim how different the two brothers were. Dean was just as calm, considerate and caring, as James was impulsive, passionate and rash. Although Dean was just as distressed, if not more, over Salma's accident as his brother was, he chose to show Asim consideration, unlike James.
"They are tensed, but otherwise fine." Asim replied.
"I know, lad. I understand. Did the briefing take place today?"
"No, they rescheduled it," Asim replied. "The guy who was supposed to brief us, was also overlooking the search operation on ground. He has had an accident and is currently in the hospital. I think they're waiting for him to round up."
"That's unfortunate," Dean commented. "Make sure you call me with whatever news, okay?"
"I will," Asim promised, praying that he had good news for him whenever the briefing took place.
"Listen bro, you are not letting James get to you, are you?" Dean asked.
Asim's throat constricted painfully. He did not know what to say. He was not letting anyone get to him. There was no need for that. He knew what he did. He knew he was responsible, regardless of what people thought.
"Listen to me, mate," Dean continued when Asim said nothing, "Don't you dare think it's your fault, alright?"
"But Dean-"
"It's not, okay?" Dean interfered. "It's not. I know James called you. I heard what he said. Don't listen to him, or anyone who talks crap like that. He can be such an insensitive jerk, sometimes. The accident is not your fault."
Asim's eyes pricked with tears.
"Kid, are you listening to me?"
"Yes." Asim replied. "I just - Dean, I can't bear to think of her alone in the forest. She could be hurt!"
"Bro, I know. But you can't keep blaming yourself. What would Sally say if she were here right now?"
"She'd probably call me dumbo!" Asim smiled through his tears.
"Exactly! You are a dumbo!" Dean chuckled. "Don't start living up to that name, bro. James is being an idiot. And don't listen to everything that goes through your head, either."
Asim smiled a little. "Thanks Dean."
"Hey, anything for Salma's baby brother, right? Just do me a favor. When Sally is back, and I know that she will be back, make sure you let her know I was watching out for you when she was gone fishing, okay?"
Asim laughed a bit. "Deal."
"Anyway, it's late at your end. Get some sleep and give Alley my love."
"Okay, thanks and I will."
"Talk to you soon then."
"Yeah," Asim croaked, dreading the next day. "Bye!"
"Good night," came Dean's reply.
Asim hung up the phone, and releasing a breath, he fell back on his pillows. He turned to face the windows. Watching the dark sky through the glass, Asim wondered what Salma was going through at that moment. Was she okay? How big a trouble was she struggling against?
***
The cold made her shiver as the clouds floated lazily in the sky. She wished she had something warm on but she knew Zayn needed her sweater more than she did. Compared to his tattered shirt, she had many layers on.
Shifting both the water bottles to the left hand, Salma stuffed her freezing right hand into the pocket of her dress. The half smoken cigarette stick brushed against her fingers, making the same kind of dread and anxiety run down her spine that she felt the other day. The night Zayn hurt his leg, Salma had inspected it closely. The stick was still full of tobacco and its white rolled up paper was completely dry, clean and fresh. She had concluded from this that the cigarette was directly thrown on the ground where she had slipped. Had it been blown with the wind, or slipped down the slope with rainwater or landslide, it would have been wet, filthy and flattened out.
Although it was a small discovery to indicate human presence in the forest besides them, it bothered her a lot. Something kept nagging her that it meant trouble.
Salma smiled when she reached the clearing of the stream. Despite all her troubles, she could never cease to be happy at having found this beautiful place.
After filling the bottles, she sat on the ground covered by a mossy mat, searching the flowers for bees. This was the only place where she felt completely at ease, away from her living nightmare. If she was not working on the rock pile near the slope, she was spending most of her time by the stream to avoid Zayn. Being around him meant continuously keeping herself in check. It put a lot of strain on her mind. Here, she could be herself without a care in the world, relaxing in the sun, playing in the water and watching the birds dig for a worm. Besides, a number of bees visited the flowers. What more could she ask for?
Salma grinned as a bee buzzed next to her and settled lightly on a flower, getting busy.
Once the sun started inching towards the west, Salma picked some berries for Zayn from a nearby. Filling the lunchbox that once carried sandwiches, she washed the fruit and hurried back to the shelter. Noon had started setting, she was afraid Zayn might get even grumpier if she delayed.
Much to her relief, Zayn had dozed off when she arrived. There wasn't much he could do anyway except sleep, eat, drive her crazy and display some excellent footwork while freestyling with small rocks. Salma had to admit he was really good at it.
She cautiously walked up to Zayn and placed the lunch box and a water bottle near him. Her insides cringed in disgust as she glanced at the P-bottle. It was empty. She breathed out a sigh of relief.
As quickly and quietly as she could, Salma tiptoed away from him towards her bench. She usually preferred the rock but it was cold today. On the rock, Salma was in Zayn's view so he could call her if he needed something but to his greatest annoyance, she was not available for a chat. Zayn couldn't figure out why Salma chose to do that. Salma, on the other hand did not really know how to explain. Not to mention, at the moment, she didn't really feel the need to explain why she did, what she did and how she did it.
This became somewhat of a routine for Salma. To avoid him, she would stay by stream or work on the pile at the slope till he got bored and went to sleep, then she would slip into his room silently to pass him his food and water and then slip away. If she stayed at the shack, she stuck to her rock. Only going in when he called and not saying a word if he talked.
***
While Salma thought Zayn was asleep, he watched her like a hawk from his spot in the veranda, feeling warm and snug in the long woolen garment. It was a little tight on him, but the weather was too cold to fuss over the size. Zayn had been observing her for sometime and it was around noon that the Ninja performed the woo-doo. Today, he planned on catching her at it.
He had a bit of an idea what she was upto, but Zayn had to hear it from her. The Ninja confused him. Her behavior and mannerism was not what he was told it would be like; arrogant, hateful, horrible. She was supposed to look down upon him like filth, not help him around, give him food, keep him warm, or care for his injuries. Zayn found himself trying to figure out the deceit involved. He knew she couldn't believe herself to be of superior status and then humble herself by taking out his piss.
And yet, she still managed to irk him, make him feel inferior and not worth her time. She avoided him like a plague. The day would darken into a night and the Ninja would have uttered no more than a few words. She barley ever dignified his attempts to initiate a conversation with a response. Her stony silence coupling with her caring behavior was playing a quite number on him.
Zayn had to know what her deal was.
As the silent minutes dragged by, the Ninja checked her wrist watch and decided it was time. Heaving a sigh of relief - probably grateful for the temporary privacy - she took her shoes off and stood up on the bench, facing away from the sleeping boy. Zayn opened one eye a wink the moment she turned her back. A devious smirk making its way on his lips.
Gotcha!
He knew what was coming when Salma placed one hand atop the other on her ribs and stood motionless. He had caught her doing the woo-doo quite a number of times now, and each of those times, Salma had avoided any discussion on it acting like Zayn had been imagining stuff. This time, however, she was caught in the act.
When she bowed confirming his suspicion, Zayn started calling her out on it.
"Gotcha Bee!" Zayn jeered.
Bee? He scoffed to himself. Ninja suits her like cheese on pizza.
"Man! I'd like to see you weasel out of this one!"
Zayn noticed her shoulders tense and he knew she was getting irritated. He smiled.
Payback time Ninju!
"Too bad! You're caught red handed," Zayn mocked a sorry tone. He crossed his hands behind his head. Relaxing, he continued his commentary as if he was watching a football game, "Now fall on your face, Once,"
He chuckled when she fell on her face.
"Another time. Atta girl, Bee!" Zayn appreciated, "Now sit up straight, don't move. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! Straight like a pole - oh wait, no, not that kinda straight, or you could be. I don't mind - Anyway, back to bowing. Bow before the king. Good . . ."
She did just as Zayn predicted, and he be damned if she was not exploding with anger right then. Whatever it is that she was doing, Zayn figured it required her to not talk. And for once, Zayn was going to take full advantage of her silence.
"Alright, Bee! Time to look at your right shoulder."
She turned her face to the right.
"Check! No hair lice there. Now check your left shoulder!" Zayn started clapping as she finished. "Very good, Bee! Good job following orders, today!"
Salma gritted her teeth as she turned around to face him. Her hands balled into fists. Judging from the way her eyes flashed, Zayn had pretty good idea she was about to explode.
"Will it kill you to keep your mouth SHUT!" Salma lashed out, trying and failing to keep her voice down.
Zayn shrugged.
"Don't know about me, sweetheart, but looks like you're about to burst a vessel."
Salma felt her blood pressure climb at his nonchalance.
"What in the world is wrong with you?!" Salma cried.
"Nothing," Zayn shrugged again, "Something's wrong with you though. Are you a witch?"
"Excuse me?!"
"What was it that you were doing now. Looked like a complicated dark magic to me. Was -"
"I WAS PRAYING!" Salma exploded. "And if you had any decency, you would know to shut up and leave me alone!"
***
It was raining like cats and dogs. Except for Zayn's room, much of roof of the shelter itself was leaking, making water drip through the shack . Salma's bench was miraculously dry and protected, but every time a gust of wind flew by, it sprayed water into the veranda. Thinking it best to stay dry then catch a cold, Salma was stuck sharing a space with Zayn in his room.
"The Arab thing?"
"What?!" Salma exclaimed.
She had calmed down, her anger long forgotten. She had just explained to Zayn that she was a Muslim, someone who followed Islam, and he was amusing her with his weird conclusions.
"You said muslim? Isn't Islam --"
"Islam is not limited to a race or an ethnicity," She explained. "It's universal. Arab, African, European, Asian or American, anyone who believes in Allah, The Last Prophet (peace be upon him) and the Qur'an, is a Muslim. Simple!"
Zayn let the information sink in, eyeing her weirdly. He seemed skeptical since her revelation that she was Muslim but Salma tried to brush it off as him being shocked. However, Zayn's borderline rude comments was not helping.
"Is the rest of your ridiculous behavior a result of your religion too?" He mocked, pointing at her veil.
Salma rolled her eyes.
"I disagree with the term 'religion'," Salma commented, ignoring his rude remark. "Islam is not a religion. It's a Deen --"
"Like a college Dean?
"- a 'Code of Life," Salma finished, "It's an arabic word which means a Code or way of life,"
Zayn pursed his lips and nodded his head slowly in mock appreciation. When Salma ignored him and turned away to stare at the falling rain, Zayn continued after a short pause.
"In any case, why the fancy word? I don't see a difference between religion and Deen - or whatever it is called."
Salma's broke out from her thoughts of how badly the rain would ruin her chances to climb the slope and faced Zayn. She saw mockery and ridicule written all over his features now that he knew she was a committed theist. However, not wanting to judge the intent behind his questions Salma decided to explain.
"A religion is mostly based on spirituality, a man's relation to God and how he should worship Him," Salma replied. "The Deen isn't just based on Man to God relation. It has another equally important half of one man's relations to another man, and his relation with himself. It counsels on every action and every deed. From the way you talk to the way you dress, and what you eat to how you speak. It encompasses every individual, social, economic, political, educational, humanitarian, private and public aspect of a human being . . . social interactions, dietary habits, toilet habits, business dealings, being intimate, parenting, celebrations; you name it. Islam teaches you the right from wrong in every aspect of your life. All of this is worship and you'll be held accountable for it all, not just prescribed rituals of prayers and fasting and singing hymns."
"Seems like a lot of unnecessary hardwork," Zayn stifled a mock yawn.
Salma scoffed at his behavior.
"It's not. Any decent person does a lot of it anyway." She shrugged. "For example, you simply covered your mouth to stifle a yawn. For a Muslim, that's following Islam and expects a reward."
Zayn smiled sarcastically. "Oh really?"
"You simply smiled, for a muslim, smiling is charity,"
Rolling his eyes at her obnoxious reply, Zayn mocked.
"I'm about to sneeze and shower you with germs -"
"Cover your mouth, say 'All Praise it to Allah' later, and for a Muslim that's two good deeds," Salma finished, biting back a smile.
"You're obligated to dress like a ninja, for a brainless idiot that's being a fool!" Zayn mimicked her.
Salma laughed in reply, not letting his insults get to her.
"It helps keep unnecessary pests away," Salma replied. "I don't need to trouble myself with shallow fools who simply can't get past my choice of dressing."
"You're mad!"
"Does it look like I care for your opinion of me?"
Zayn shook his head in disbelief.
"This religion or whatever is messing with your head," Zayn cried. "Look at you, you can't even dress normally."
"Normal is a relative term," Salma muttered. Getting up, she dusted her dress.
The rain outside had lightened and the winds had stopped. She could wait the rest of the rain on her bench.
"Is you avoiding me to the point where it gets offensive also because of your Islam?" Zayn asked.
Salma paused and turned around, slightly amused by 'your Islam'.
"Yes," she replied simply. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings. I have to keep my distance."
"Keeping your distance is one thing," Zayn retorted. "You act like you get an itch when you're around me."
Salma stifled a laugh at the annoyance in his tone.
"Oh, that's because of your charming personality," she replied, making fun of him. But when he glared at her, offended, Salma proceeded to explain, "Chill, it's nothing personal. Islam is big on modesty and prohibits premarital relationships is all - That, and anything that's leads to it."
Zayn did a double-take.
"Are you mad! In what universe would you imagine me being interested in the likes of you?"
Salma felt the need to bang her head against the wall. What made him think the world revolved around him? His narcissism was beyond real.
"Looks like my veil is fully functional at keeping the pests out then!" she replied tersely.
"Point is, stop trolling yourself," Zayn said. "I'm not, I repeat, not, interested in masked women."
Salma resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Point is, stop thinking everything is about you," Salma returned. "I'm practicing my faith, as I would have if it were any other man. Islam is not, I repeat, not, revealed keeping only you in mind."
Giving him one last, pointed look, Salma mocked him with a curtsy and tipped her imaginary cap.
"Good day to you, sir."
Author's Note:
Hope you people enjoyed the chapter. Leave comments, vote and share this story on your twitter and facebook :).
Shoutout to D_Greywolf for the following comments ^^
Go read his story ya'll. you guys would love it! It awesomely written, beautifully unique and so very interesting! [Disclaimer: It is heartbreaking T_T, you've been warned my innocent losties]
Vote, comment and share the story (I mean 'lost' lol x'D)
Lots of Love
J.