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Salma felt her brother throwing dark glances at her from across the room. The other day, she had shrugged him off by letting him know Alex told her to not report Zayn. Asim did not appreciate her answer or her decision to follow Alex's instructions. In fact, he actually looked skeptical of the whole story of the agent dropping by at night. Salma did not argue. She simply did not have any energy to do so. Asim soon stopped badgering her and resorted to throwing dirty looks her way.
Salma was glad she'd kept the real reason to herself. He would not understand and Salma did not feel like explaining. She did, of course worry that Asim might reveal the identity of her assailant to her family and that Salma was covering up for him. Her brother, however, feeling guilty that him getting late that night was one of the reasons why Salma got attacked in first place, decided to keep her secret.
Salma ignored her brother's silent glower and put her shoes on.
"I'm ready," she told Dean quietly.
"Okay," Dean picked the keys, "Let's go,"
Asim had refused to drive her to the campus, where the authorities wanted her to identify the culprit. As a result, Dean accompanied her. Further displeased, Asim stormed out of the room, greatly upset.
Once the interrogation was over, Salma stepped out of the room feeling muddled. It was a weird meeting. To her surprise, Alex was there and Salma felt anxious when the officer kept showing her pictures of men that were found lurking around the block that night. All tall, well built boys with varying shades of brown eyes and dark hair. Quite strangely, Zayn's face was not one of them. Salma looked up at Alex after going through the pile.
Was she the reason behind Zayn's missing picture? Surely the security cameras were not selective in what they captured.
"It's none of these guys, sir," She told the officer. He frowned in disappointment.
"That's just not possible. This is every kid matching your description that entered or left the building that night," He said, "Are you positive? Take another look."
Salma bit the insides of her cheeks, bursting at the seams to just say it was Zayn. Conveniently, Alex started talking at that time.
"If I may, officer," She spoke up, asking his permission to interfere. Barely waiting for his nod, Alex continued, "It is very possible that the person could have entered during working hours in the morning and never left until after the police did a search," She suggested
The officer's frown deepened.
"We did a very thorough search, Agent Wickfield," he replied.
"Even inside the buildings?" Alex quirked a brow, "I don't know officer. A colleague of mine was sitting right under the stairs in the hallways the whole time and he was never bothered. Shouldn't we then think, you may have missed another hiding spot?"
"That's possible," He muttered, looking disgruntled, "But that's talking about hundreds of students that may have entered through the day!"
Skillfully diverting the focus to another aspect of the investigation, Alex kept interfering every time there seemed to be a deadlock all along till the session ended.
Still feeling like puppet whose strings were being pulled, Salma entered the hall. Dean was leaning against the wall in the hallway waiting for her. He stepped away from the wall when he saw her walking over to him.
"How did it go?" he asked.
Salma shrugged, her frown deepening.
"They wanted me to identify the man who had pushed me into the room. I never saw his face,"
Dean frowned. It had not gone unnoticed by him that Salma avoided talking about her assailant.
"And?" He urged.
"And they asked about the other guys involved in the attack but I was blindfolded once inside the room, so I didn't have much information for them," Salma finished, hoping he would not ask about the events on the roof when her blindfold had finally come off, both literally and figuratively.
Dean scowled at the obvious lie but didn't say anything. Like James and Asim, Dean could not figure out why Salma was covering up for Zayn. While Asim thought it was the agent's underhanded tactics and James thought she felt threatened by Zayn himself, Dean disagreed with both. He knew Asim's reason was more plausible but he was sure there was something more to it than her just getting scared by the agent's blackmail.
Salma passed by the disciplinary committee chambers on her way out, reminding her of the hearing for the disciplinary action against Zayn. She was scheduled to present her account of his misconduct in the lab a day after the attack. However, knocked out by trauma and cold, Salma's absence was excused. She had found out just that morning that Zayn had managed to clear his name with his reputation barely scratched.
The committee had ruled his misconduct out as an unintentional, unfortunate mishap. Zayn was only to pay funds to restock the damaged specimens. A major case in point quoted in his favor was that apparently he was one of the chief sponsors of a project that provided scholarships to needy students and funded their research. Salma was baffled.
He had to be some sorts of a millionaire to pump that kind of money into the education system. Where did an arts student land his hands on that kind of sums? The sort of unexplained and undisclosed power he wielded sometimes scared her. Who was he? Why was he getting out of tight spots so easily? Was she becoming party to a system that was rearing a monster that could never be questioned or held accountable no matter what he did?
A gust of cold wind hit them when they stepped out of the building. The campus grounds were covered in pure white. The tall trees had shed their leaves and were now loaded with snow. The grounds were deserted; students either gone home for holidays or preferring to stay indoors to avoid the freezing temperatures.
Dean turned the collars of his coat up against the cold. Salma saw a figure heading towards the cars. She realized it was the agent.
Was Zayn really just a friend that she protected? Or was there another reason staring at her in the face but she was too blind to see it?
"Wait for me," Salma mumbled to Dean and before he could reply, she rushed towards the agent. "Alex!"
The agent turned around with a smile.
"Finally remembered my name, did you?"
'What was all that?" Salma demanded.
"Interrogation," she replied. Salma wasn't humored. "A controlled interrogation."
"You mean structured lies." Salma returned. "You just allowed him to walk scot-free again, because of - wait, what was it? Oh yes, because I pushed him too hard?"
"And didn't you?"
Salma's mouth hung open. Was the agent really pinning her getting assaulted by Zayn on her now?
"When you think of everything that went down that night, and knowing him the way you do, aren't you convinced he doesn't deserve what might come to him if he's --"
"No! I'm not!" Salma shot back. "He deserves everything that's coming to him! Do better!"
Alex sighed.
"Look, he's not the person you think he is. I know with you he hasn't been at his best but has he ever hesitated to help you out? Refused you a favor? Think twice before putting his life on the line for you?"
"He's never hesitated to attack me either. Or make me miserable or harass me. Agent Wickfield --"
"-- Alex --"
"-- one doesn't negate or justify the other."
"I understand he's hurt you so he's in the wrong and nothing I say right now will convince you otherwise," the agent said, "but the trauma he had suffered as a teenager was fresh in his mind that night given that he'd just revisited it for you."
"Revisited? For me, you say?" Salma scoffed. "He did it to humiliate me! He force me through it with the threat of committing suicide if I didn't play along! 'I play Lenny,' he said. 'You play Zayn.'"
Alex looked disturbed.
"Wait, what?"
Salma swallowed the lump in her throat.
"I know what I am talking about when I tell you he deserves to be reported. He's not right in the head. You ought to stop defending him. He needs to face the consequences for what he does. Stop giving him the easy way out! He put me through hell!"
"I'm really sorry for what he put you through. I'd never expect him to be so toxic . . . I don't know why he'd do that. With you he's so --"
"Cruel?" Salma suggested. "But apparently he's a saint!"
"I suppose you'd appreciate my point better now that you know what actually happened to him at a very vulnerable age."
"The point being?"
"With you jumping on that ledge, Zayn didn't see you, he only saw Lenny with a knife in her hand." Salma opened her mouth to argue but Alex cut her in. "It doesn't matter what your intention was. On that ledge, just inches from falling to your death, he only saw you threatening him with your life. Tell me you expect him act sane knowing he has internalized trauma of having pushed someone to attempt suicide?"
Salma gaped at her.
"How-how does that justify him assaulting me?!"
"It doesn't. Alex said simply, but it puts things in perspective. What we do when we lose our minds to our fears is not the same as what we do when we are sane. The latter is evil, the former - a mistake. His guilty conscience wouldn't go easy on him. I assure you. He's not who you think he is."
Salma said nothing as she tried to read the agent. She didn't believe the agent only protected him because he was supposedly an angel who had erred. Her initial suspicions had started growing stronger. She obviously had value for him. Agents don't just go protecting people for no reason.
Salma wondered if Zayn was an informant? That would explain the tabs she kept on him and the balancer card she played earlier.
"I think you know where I am coming from." Alex smiled, taking her silence for a lack of a counter-argument.
Salma did not return the smile. During the interrogation while she avoided identifying her assailant, the frustrated officer was about to shut the file when Alex interfered:
"But of course, she may remember something at a later date? I have it on the authority of several trauma therapists that the brain suppresses some details when it experiences extremely traumatic situations. She may remember the person, given it time, right?"
"Right," The officer grumbled, "Miss Rahman, we'd want to be the first to hear of it, should you remember something,"
Salma figured this was her way to rein Zayn in. A sword left dangling over his head. Anytime the agent wanted, she would blackmail him with the threat of Salma reporting him.
"You forged for me a chance to report Zayn in the future," Salma said. "Why?"
"That's my reassurance to you that I'll be keeping my end of the promise. Should I fail. Zayn goes to jail," The agent smiled, "Hey, that rhymed!"
She chuckled before waving a hand.
"Laters, then!"
Salma watched as the agent pulled out of the spot and drove away. She was still feeling conflicted about what she was doing, but her mind lack the clarity to work things out. She felt like a small splinter letting the powerful waves direct her where to flow. Dean walked over to her.
"Want a coffee?" He offered, jerking his head towards the coffee house at the other end.
"Alright," Salma agreed mechanically, turning to walk towards the coffee house.
"Hold on," Dean paused, "Let me get my wallet from the car!"
While she waited, Salma noticed a hooded figure walking towards her. Their eyes met when she was close enough. Sarah slowed down a little, her surprise at seeing her evident from her slightly furrowed brow. Salma swallowed uneasily and looked away from her. They have not had a word since Salma's last walk out of her room. It was awkward to be around her. Sarah looked like she wanted to say something.
"Alright, done," Dean said breathlessly, startling her a bit. "Let's go."
"Okay." She nodded, throwing one last glance in Sarah direction.
Salma followed Dean to the coffee house, feeling a heavy weight settle in her stomach. Sarah looked dejected.She was not sure if she was grateful that Dean had saved her from a very awkward exchange, or guilty that she had not even exchanged a Salam.
The coffee house was almost empty. Dean went to get the orders leaving Salma to take a corner seat by the window. She was staring at the grounds glumly when she heard the doorbells jingle, announcing the entry of a new customer. Salma ignored her surroundings till she felt someone approach her table. She turned around to see Claire. Her heart sank at the sight of her.
"Hey," Claire gave her an uneasy, almost apologetic smile. She looked rather pale, Salma noticed. There were bags under her eyes and her eyes looked dull.
"Hi," Salma replied, trying to keep things friendly.
"Can I sit down?" she asked.
Salma hesitated but then nodded. "Sure."
Claire sat across from her, fidgeting. An uncomfortable silence descended upon them. Claire looked nervous and guilty and knowing what she would want to talk about, Salma wished Claire would not have approached her.
"I guess I won't even be right to ask how you're doing," Claire said, her voice thick with tears.
Salma instantly regretted allowing her to sit. Her stomach churned with anxiety, making her feel like throwing up.
"Zayn was really -"
Salma shot to her feet, cutting her off.
"I'm sorry, I got to go," she muttered hastily.
"Please," Claire said. She had gotten to her feet too, stepping in front of Salma, "Please. . . Will you ever be able to forgive him?"
Salma turned to her in surprise. Claire's blue eyes were shinning with tears.
"I haven't reported him if that's wh-"
"And I'm grateful! Salma you have no idea how much that means to me!" She cried, "But that's not what I'm talking about. You chose to not report him but that does not mean you have forgiven him, have you?"
Salma felt her throat constrict painfully.
"I don't want to talk about this," Salma whispered. "I have to go."
"You know he was not thinking straight," Claire repeated what she'd told her that night. "He acted on impulse. Salma, you know he'd never hurt you."
"Wouldn't he?" Salma snapped almost too harshly. She was getting sick of it. What would be next? Niall pulling puppy-eyes on her, trying to get her to cheer Zayn up?
Claire bit her trembling lip as tears streamed down her face, making Salma regret her harsh tone. Dean walked towards them with her coffee but upon seeing Claire, he figured they need to talk and walked away. Salma scowled at his retreating back.
"He loves you, Salma," Claire sobbed, making her clench her teeth, "He really does,"
"Please, stop,"
"You have no idea how much he cares for you," Claire pleaded, "I have never seen him so hurt before. He regrets what he's done. Salma, my brother is not like -"
Salma clenched her fists.
"Claire, put yourself in my shoes, then look me in the eye and tell me to forgive him!" Salma replied angrily, "Will you forgive the hound that assaulted you!"
Salma stared at her squarely. Claire chewed on her lips, not being able to meet her eyes. Salma felt bad for being hard on the girl, but she had had enough of giving Zayn the benefit of a doubt.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she pulled her seat to the side and stepped around Claire.
"I'm sorry," Salma muttered, before walking away.
In her periphery, she saw Claire sinking in her chair and putting her head in her hands. Salma's heart stabbed realizing she had probably made the poor girl more miserable than she already was.
"Are you okay?"
Salma snapped her attention back to Dean who was standing by the door, waiting for her.
"Yeah," Salma replied, looking away, "let's go home."
***
Things were gradually returning back to normal around Salma. Her mother after asking her what had happened had left her alone after Salma explained briefly how she was attacked and then rescued. Asim, too, seemed to be forgetting his anger with her choices. Anne and Uncle Dawood had offered her help, on separate occasions. Salma declined. Although interrupted by anxiety inducing dreams, Salma had started getting more sleep. And as her cold grew better, she returned to doing her part of the chores around the house.
Her mind, too, had slowly shifted from haunting her with Zayn to making her miserable by missing Sarah. Also, Christmas was approaching, which meant James and Dean would soon leave to spend the time with their parents and grandparents. Salma felt a mixture of sadness and relief. She was understandably upset to know they would be leaving, but she also found herself looking forward to not finding excuses to avoid them all the time.
The night before James and Dean left, James casually sauntered into the kitchen while she was doing the dishes. Salma stiffened dreading another interrogation session, but relaxed when blue eyed prankster started talking about how unusually 'usual' it was at their place during Christmas. Salma zoned off. It wasn't too late before James's high pitched voice snapped her out of her head.
"Sallabae?!"
Startled, she looked up from the bowl that she was washing at the sound of her name. James was frowning at her from where he stood next to the fridge.
"Were you even listening?"
Salma gulped, turning her back to him.
"I, uh - yes." Salma bit her lip, putting the clean bowl away.
"You know what," James straightened up, "I need a word with you,"
Salma's heart sank when he turned the tap off and started dragging her out into the backyard. Drying her hands with her apron, Salma shivered as the harsh cold hit her body the moment they stepped out onto the snow covered yard.
"What is it?" she questioned, wrapping her arms around her frame, dreading his answer.
James let go of her and turned to her with a grim look on his face.
"Listen, I know this is Dean's sort of thing, but you seem really bothered. Ever since the night you were attacked you've been quiet, too quiet. You barely crack a smile, you don't talk, you zone out, you've barely been eating, and -" He frowned then blinked, " I sure there is more on that list . . ."
He trailed off scratching the side of his head, thinking hard before shaking it.
"I can't believe I forgot the rest," He said, "Anyway, bottom line: you're not yourself."
Salma avoided his blue eyes, trying to cook up an excuse that would let her off the hook without having to lie to James.
"Now, I know I should mind my own business and give you space, like Dean says," James added, "But," He frowned as if struggling with himself on whether or not it was a good idea to ask, "Was it Zayn?"
Salma's insides squirmed with discomfort. Every time someone said his name out loud, she felt a sharp pain shooting through her chest. Salma understood the anger but she did not understand the sense of betrayal that coursed through her every time she was reminded of what Zayn did.
She looked away from James, biting the inside of her cheek to hold her emotions in.
"Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable," James began, "But you have to tell someone the truth. It's obvious that the weight is too much for you to carry. Don't tell me, tell Dean. Or that friend of yours, S-"
"Yes," Salma sniffed, swallowing the lump in her throat, "It was him,"
James cut off abruptly. Salma was a bit taken aback seeing the look on his face. He seemed deeply unsettled by the news but not surprised. As his blue eyes searched her face, Salma realized she was right in thinking that James already knew it was him.
"Oh Sally," James cried, pulling her into a comforting hug.
Salma fought back tears at the familiarity of his embrace. She would have pushed him away, but the uncertainty dwelling inside her and the bone chilling cold made her welcome the warmth of his hug. When he pulled back, James noticed Salma clenching her teeth that had started clattering. He scowled.
"Hold on a minute!"
Salma watched, perplexed, as James raced inside without another word. He left her shivering in the cold, her fingers freezing out and teeth clattering. Before Salma could talk herself into following him, James stepped out of the kitchen, carrying a bundle of blankets under his arm and two steaming mugs in each hand.
"Hot c-cocoa?" Salma asked in astonishment, through her still clattering teeth. Her frozen fingers wrapped around porcelain, welcoming the warmth.
"Thank me later." James chuckled, throwing a blanket around her.
"But how'd you make cocoa so fast?"
"Nevermind that," He wrapped a blanket around himself and took a seat on the bench, "Sit down,"
Salma snuggled next to him, sipping on the chocolate and letting it soothe her nerves. She watched the snowflakes slowly cover every inch of the back yard. Salma suddenly felt a painful twinge in her chest remembering how Zayn had once covered her in a blanket and made her a mug of hot chocolate.
"Let me fix this for you!"
She blinked back bitter tears, knowing now what he had meant by that. It still ate at her insides to think what he must have done to her that night. Salma bit her cheek when the pain in her chest became too much. Noticing her painful expression, James fished an arm out of his blanket, patting her back soothingly. Wiping her eyes dry on her sleeve, Salma drew in a shaky breath. She bought herself some time by taking another sip of the chocolate.
The warm drink did wonders on her clogged throat.
"It's so hard sometimes," Salma whispered through her tears, "I feel so mad that I want to scream and throw things around. I feel like storming the police station and reporting him. I feel this raw desire to drag him in the dirt so I can watch him feel the same humiliation and pain that he made me feel. He has lied to me and tricked me so many times that I don't even know who I am madder at? Him, for treating me like some sport? Or myself, for being so stupid that I let him go on, till he was so emboldened that he came at me straight?!"
James draped an arm around her, watching her with sad eyes. Salma stared at the contents of her mug, trying to curb the bitterness from welling up inside her again.
"Why didn't you report him?" He asked quietly, "What's the point of carrying so much pain?"
Author's Note:
Again, shout-out to my newest Patron 'Ayah'. Thank you so much, Ayah! 🥰
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Loads of Love.
J.