"Miss Athena, please do not interrupt your father. I'm sure you can bring up your discovery at another time," a kind-faced elderly woman suggested as she looked at the young heiress. Athena St. Claire turned around, her long dark hair framing her face as if it were a precious painting. Her eyes were unique. Viridian in color, they added an allure of mystery to the attractive teen. The teen smiled, a smile accented by her perfect row of pearly teeth. Her beauty was European in descent, but her ancestors had lived in the United States for at least a century.
"Anna, Father wished to hear my course of life as soon as I figured it out. I'm sure he will be thrilled to hear my decision," Athena smiled and nodded as if reassuring herself more than her nanny. "Miss, Athena," Anna protested, "you know as well as I that Master Alistair has a profound temper. If he's interrupted at the wrong moment, all hell will break loose." "Anna, you worry too much. He's my father. No matter how angry he becomes, he will always love me, right?" Athena asked with another smile. Anna's smile faded. She had served the St. Claire household her entire life, following in the footsteps of her late mother. If there was one thing Anna Fitzgerald knew, it was that Alistair St. Claire only loved his children as long as they were useful to him. She had seen his ugly side many times over her long life, but the children, the children had yet to see it. She prayed they never did, however, her prayers would soon fall short.
Athena smiled. This was something that finally made sense. Something she could believe in with her heart. With that thought, she knocked on the twin French doors that stood menacingly in front of her. "Enter," a deep voice called out from the other side. "Dad?" Athena called out as she walked into the study. "Oh, are you busy?" "I'm a businessman, Athena. I am always busy," Alistair St. Claire replied tersely once he barely glanced up from his work. "What do you want?" "Dad! Adonis has my diary!" Artemis cried out as she ran into the study. "I've told you time and time again to knock when you come inside. I am a very busy man," Alistair scolded before looking up at his daughters.
Athena felt as if a frog was in her throat as she looked at her father's menacing gaze. She glanced at her little sister and then the door as Adonis walked in nonchalantly. "Dad, I need a couple bucks," he said and flashed a cocky smirk at his sisters. "How many?" Alistair asked as he withdrew two crisp twenty dollar bills and handed them to Adonis. "Now what did you want?" Athena looked at her siblings and said, "You told us to explore the world and choose our own path, right?" Alistair looked at his daughter in intrigue, "Have you found your path so easily? What is it? Money? Education? Philanthropy?"
"Islam," Athena said simply and watched her father's expression change. There was a fury behind his green eyes that Athena had never seen before and it terrified her. This wasn't the man who she used to chase through their gardens when she was a child. This wasn't the man who comforted her when her mother passed away. This man was an individual who had succumbed to his vices. He was a man that had accepted his racist tendencies and had bowed down before his bigoted views.
Alistair said nothing as he stood up and approached Athena. She glanced at her brother and sister and heard her little sister whimper as she hid behind Adonis. This was the power that Alistair had over his children. After their mother passed away, he had become cold towards them, as if they were a burden on him, but still maintained an air of civility. Now, he looked at Athena with nothing but hatred.
"Dad, I-," Athena began but was silenced as Alistair's hand descended towards her and connected with her cheek. Athena staggered and fell backwards by the force of the blow. She looked up in horror, as her father seemed to be steaming at the ears. "What did you say?" Alistair asked with his teeth clenched. Athena could taste something metallic in her mouth and knew she was bleeding. In her entire sixteen years of life, her father had never physically abused her. "Dad! She's bleeding! Don't hit her!" Artemis cried out as she struggled against her brother's arms, who held her back.
"You will shut your mouth, right now!" Alistair roared at Artemis and shifted his attention back to Athena. "What did you say, girl?" Athena's bottom lip trembled as she fought an internal war as to answer her father or not. He had a murderous look in his eye, something she had never seen before which meant she was walking blindly into this situation. "I'm a Muslim, dad. I became one today," Athena whispered softly but immediately regretted the words that left her mouth as she felt her father's foot land sharply against her ribs.
******
Iman gasped and sat up abruptly as she awoke. She found herself fighting to breathe and felt a pair of arms wrap around her. "Dawood?" Iman whispered in surprise as she fuzzily noticed a pair of blue eyes looking at her in worry. "No, Mama. Just me. Khadijah," Khadijah whispered softly before pressing a kiss against her mother's temple. "You had a nightmare." "Oh, Shehzadi," Iman whispered and wrapped her arms around Khadijah in relief. "I thought you were your father for a minute."
"Nope. No miracles here," Khadijah shrugged and gently touched her mother's cheek. "What was your nightmare about, Mama?" "It wasn't a nightmare, Shehzadi," Iman whispered as she held her daughter protectively. "It was a horrible memory." "Baba used to tell me you had a horrible memory that sometimes crept into your thoughts. He told me to always tell you, that all of that is behind you and you are a strong, independent woman now," Khadijah smiled.
The mere mention of her father put a smile on the usually somber teenager's face. "No memory is worse than the day I lost your father and nearly lost you," Iman whispered as she lovingly looked at the young woman. "It's been ten years, Mama," Khadijah, whispered, "we can't dwell on the past. We have to fight and move forward to find out what happened to Baba." "You don't think he's-," Iman gulped as she struggled to say the word in her mind. "He's not dead, Mama. He wouldn't die because of something like that. He's alive and they know where he is. We just have to fight to find him," Khadijah said as she frowned.
Iman smiled as she looked at Dawood's carbon copy. Her smile, her anger, her frown lines, and even her blue eyes that veiled a whirlwind of emotion, were in every way like her father's. Even though the government had taken her husband away under falsified terrorism charges, she had Khadijah to temporarily fill the void he had left behind. Iman kissed Khadijah's forehead and whispered, "When did you grow up to be so beautiful, Shehzadi?" "Beautiful? Pshh, Mama. Everyone calls me Terrorist Princess in school. How is that remotely beautiful?" Khadijah scoffed. "People will always be ignorant, Shehzadi. Why not embrace the title?" Iman teased. "Mama!" Khadijah shook her head. "I am Khadijah Amina Khan, daughter of Dawood and Iman Khan. There is no one else like me in this universe. That's what Baba always said. Baba isn't a terrorist and neither am I." "He was right," Iman smiled and gave her daughter a hug. "He was very right."
"Why don't you go wash your face, Mama?" Khadijah suggested. Iman rose from her bed and watched as Khadijah turned on the TV in her room and flipped though the channels. Once in the bathroom, Iman glanced at her arms, gnawing on her bottom lip as she stared at her scars. She remembered showing them to Dawood all those years ago when they were first married. He had reassured her by telling her that she was a survivor, a warrior. "He always knew what to say," Iman whispered to herself as she wiped the tears that had subconsciously formed in her eyes. Dawood had spent his entire existence helping others and when the time came to return the favor, they were helpless. "Where are you, Dawood?" Iman whispered as she looked at her reflection. She had asked that question for nearly ten years. Where had her loving husband, her warrior, disappeared to?
She washed her face and used a nearby towel to pat dry it before heading back to her bedroom. Khadijah had now languidly stretched out on the bed, making herself right at home in her mother's room. "Guess who's on TV, Mama," Khadijah called out as she motioned towards the LCD screen with the remote in her hand. Iman followed Khadijah's gaze and set her brow in frustration as she looked at the man on the TV. He had his hair slicked back in a style that would impress even Al Capone. Wisps of silver accented his temples, a reminder of the time that had passed since Iman had last seen him. She smirked in contempt as the man furiously waved in front of a roaring crowd. "He's running for senator, you know?" Khadijah asked as she curled up with her mother's spare pillow and inhaled deeply. Iman crossed her arms across her chest and watched as the man on the TV wiped fake tears from his eyes. "When my mama passed away, my brother learned I was no longer Muslim. He threatened to KILL me because I was no longer Muslim. THIS is the real threat we have to face in a world where we are too lenient on this perverse faith. I saved myself from damnation by converting to Christianity, but there are those stuck in Islam who are afraid of moving on from fear of death. My brother killed thousands. I just wish I could have stopped him when he first showed his terrorist nature. I was afraid, but no more! We must stop the Islamization of America at any cost! We must STOP THE MUSLIMS!" The man roared into his microphone amid numerous cheers from his audience.
"You know that's not true, right?" Iman asked Khadijah. "I know, Mama. Baba told me what happened when his mother passed away. I just never understood how asinine my uncle really was. Until today," Khadijah sighed as she shook her head in disapproval. Iman watched as Khadijah's smile faded and her usual somber expression overtook the teenager's face. "They took everything from us, Mama. Everything. They took our home, our money, our lives, and Baba. Couldn't they have left us with something? With dignity? Couldn't they have at least given Baba a trial? Now, Uncle Sulaiman is milking Baba's misery," Khadijah murmured through bared teeth as she looked at Sulaiman on the TV. "You mean your uncle and future senator, Saul Kahn?" Iman asked as she sat down next to Khadijah and patted the younger woman's head in a motherly fashion. "Oh, how could I forget? He changed his name to distance himself from my terrorist Muslim father," Khadijah muttered.
Iman sighed as she thought of her husband. They had been married for only a few short months, yet he had become nearly everything to her. He listened with a patient ear, he never ridiculed her for her troubled past, and he was a patient man. His patience wasn't always there. When she first met him, he seemed more like a boy than an adult. He wanted to pick a fight just to prove others wrong. He was immature and loud, stark contrasts to her own personality back then. She remembered the day Dawood's immaturity vanished. His mother had passed away and his siblings forced him to break all bonds with him. Iman knew family members could be worse than the devil, but she had never seen such animosity between siblings like she had seen that day. Dawood's mother, Amina, had succumbed to her foe, cancer. His biological siblings kept him in the dark, but his adoptive siblings alerted Dawood of the turn of events. Ahmed and Rana had proven on that day that they were closer to Dawood than his own biological siblings.
Before Iman could dwell on Dawood's past, she was distracted from her thoughts by a knock on her window. Khadijah quickly hopped off the bed and grabbed a nearby candlestick before baring her teeth and whispering, "If it's those bigoted kids again, I'm going to kill them, Mama." "Khadijah, put down whatever it is you're holding," a familiar voice called out from the outside of the house. "Uncle Ahmed?" Khadijah called out in question. Iman sighed in relief before calling out, "Just a minute, Ahmed. I don't have my hijab on." "Take your time, Bhabi," Ahmed replied, using the Urdu word for sister-in-law to address Iman. The tired mother reached for one of her discarded scarves and wrapped it into her usual hijab style, tucking her hair beneath the delicate chiffon that now covered her head. Khadijah stood apprehensively at the window and lifted the blinds once Iman gave the go-ahead. Once the blinds were raised, Iman helped her daughter unlock the windows and slide them open. "Assalam alaikum, Bhabi," Ahmed called out once the window was open. "Uncle Ahmed!" Khadijah exclaimed as she flashed her favorite uncle a thumbs-up. "How are you, Shehzadi? We saw the lights on and you know how worried Ruby gets about you guys," Ahmed explained.
"Please thank Rubina for her concern," Iman sighed before rubbing her temples. "Are you having a headache?" Ahmed asked nervously. "Yeah, she is. She'll never admit it, Uncle Ahmed, but she is. It's that time of year again," Khadijah answered for her mother. "Shehzadi," Iman whispered in warning. "It's okay, Bhabi. I understand. It's almost that time of year again," Ahmed whispered. "I noticed that Rubina has beefed up security around the perimeter. Do you think the protestors will come this year as well?" Iman asked apprehensively. "If they trespass, I've given orders to the guards to shoot on sight," Ahmed explained seriously. "Are you allowed to do that? You've done so much for us, Ahmed. I don't want you getting in any more trouble because of us," Iman whispered. "Dawood wa- is my brother. I promised to take care of his family. These people come to protest because they want us out of the country. They want us to go back where we came from because they believe Dawood killed all those people. We're going to show them that THIS is our home. I'll protect you, Bhabi. You don't have to worry about that," Ahmed explained fiercely. "Yo, dad!" A younger version of Ahmed called out as he ran full speed towards Ahmed. "You should head back, Ahmed. It seems Rubina sent reinforcements," Iman smiled, hoping the fatigue she was now feeling was hidden well behind her eyes. "Assalam alaikum, Aunt Iman," the young boy, no more than ten years old called out as he poked his head into Iman's house. "Ugh, Ibrahim. Get out of here. So annoying," Khadijah groaned as she pushed Ibrahim back out of the window. "Baji, you can't just kick me out like this! Mom sent me," Ibrahim pointed out. "Tell your mother that we're fine, Ibrahim," Iman whispered before gently patting the young boy's face once Ibrahim peeked back inside the room.
"He doesn't have to tell me anything. I have arrived," Ruby called out as she made her way towards the open window. Iman smiled as she spotted Ahmed's wife. Ruby was the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Pakistan. She was kind and compassionate to the ones she cherished and that was something Iman saw firsthand. When Dawood was blamed for the attack on the Princess Dome theme park, many government agencies not only harassed Iman and Khadijah, but they also took everything they ever had. Iman was fired from her teaching position at a nearby university and the government confiscated their house and bank accounts. Iman smiled at Ruby before whispering, "Rubina, I'm already indebted to you. You don't have to worry so much about us." Ruby raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief before smacking Ahmed's shoulder gently, "Did you hear that? Iman is indebted to me, to us. Can you believe this? After all these years, she still thinks she owes us. Ugh, I can't even. You're lucky I like you."
Iman smiled as Ruby tried her best to show her mock anger. She knew that underneath her scowl, Ruby was simply concerned about her brother's family. She had always considered Dawood to be her brother and in turn, considered Iman her sister-in-law. Iman knew that Ruby was apprehensive due to the fact that every year on the anniversary of the Princess Dome attack, protestors would crowd around the Hashemi/Khan property and throw rocks and other projectiles onto the property. A few years back a few protestors stormed the expansive property and tried setting fire on the Khan house, all while they were still inside. To these protestors, Iman and her family were co-conspirators in the Princess Dome attack and deserved to die. Ruby had since hired private security to patrol the perimeter of the property on every anniversary. When the government confiscated everything she had, both Khadijah and Iman were homeless. Iman remembered looking towards the sky in desperation as she sat on a park bench with Khadijah and what little belongings they had.
At that moment, Ahmed drove by, furious as could be and quickly put Iman and Khadijah's belongings into his car. "I'll build you a house right in front of mine, Bhabi. I'll build it on my ranch. There is no way in hell I'd leave you two out to dry," Ahmed had whispered ferociously. And he did just that, Iman thought as she now studied a much older Ahmed. He built them a mansion a mere hundred yards away from his own and made sure that the Khans had everything he had. "Are you okay, Bhabi?" Ahmed asked softly, snapping Iman out of her thoughts. "I am very grateful for you and Ruby. I'm grateful that Dawood has such family. I've never had that before. I wanted that with Dawood. I-," Iman whispered, paused as her voice cracked, and slowly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Mama," Khadijah murmured as she placed her hands on Iman's shoulders, squeezing gently in reassurance, "he'll come home. Allah will make a way. There's no power greater than Him in the world." Iman sniffed and nodded, forcing a smile on her face before gently patting Khadijah's cheek. "Thank you, Shehzadi. I needed that," she whispered before pressing a kiss on top of Khadijah's forehead.
Iman knew pain and she knew heartache. She had felt those two feelings mutually on many occasions, but none rendered her as helpless as the day her husband and daughter went on a trip to the Princess Dome theme park. She had barely been married a few months when she answered a call from her husband's phone. Thinking he was making one of his regular, sweet calls, she answered with a cheerful, "Are you two missing me again?" She remembered how her face paled as she heard her then five year old daughter whisper shakily, "Mama? Mama. Mama, a bomb exploded. B-Baba was hurt. M-Mama, Baba was hurt. The bad guys were coming and Baba locked us in a bathroom. I don't know where he is, Mama. Please save us." Her knees went weak and she fought to breathe as Khadijah's plea reached her ears.
*****
She had rushed to the park after telling Khadijah she would be there and found the setting to be similar to an apocalyptic Hollywood movie. There were people everywhere. Some shakily running away from the carnage that had been roped off by FBI agents and some simply standing, gawking at the massacre in front of them. The famed princess dome, that could be seen from miles away, now lay in ruin. Thick, dark smoke billowed from the ruins of the dome while helicopters circled the theme park from above. "Ma'am, please step away from the line. Civilians are not allowed beyond this point," a uniformed man said as Iman approached the rope. "My husband and daughter were here. She- she's still in there. In a bathroom. My husband locked her in with some of the wounded," Iman explained quickly. "Please, officer, please. I need to know they're okay." "Did she tell you what bathroom?" The officer asked as he pulled out a notepad.
Iman waited as the officer put together a team to rescue the little girl and her companions. "Excuse me," Iman called out as the officer gave orders on how to approach the locked bathroom. "Ma'am, we are moving as fast as possible," the officer said irately, "We have never seen a terrorist attack on this scale, certainly not at a theme park. Please, be patient." "She won't open the door without the password," Iman explained. "Her father told her that the people that rescue them would have a password. Only then can she open the door." "Smart thinking," the officer nodded. "What's the password?" "Sabr. It means patience," Iman said and wrung her hands as the team was deployed.
Waiting for the team to come back was the worst experience in Iman's life. A million scenarios played out in her mind, all of them resulting in her small family's demise. "Get it together, Iman. Where's that faith you're so reliant on?" Iman verbally berated herself. "She's fine and Dawood is the strongest person you know in the world. He's fine too. Just get yourself together." Nearly two hours went by before she heard anything. "Mama!" Iman heard Khadijah cry out. She looked around wildly and spotted the little girl in an officer's arms, fifty feet away. "Khadijah!" Iman cried out in relief as she forcefully embraced the little girl. Her small voice was music to her ears. "Thank god you're alright!"
"Baba," Khadijah whispered as she fought back a sob. She clenched her small teeth and balled up her small hands. "Mama, they shot Baba." "What?" Iman asked as she held Khadijah at arms length. She looked at the little girl and wiped away at the dried blood that coated her clothes. Her little girl was bleeding. How long had she been bleeding? "Are you hurt? Are you bleeding?" Iman asked anxiously. "No, Mama. BABA was hurt. M-Mama, they shot Baba with a gun," Khadijah repeated restlessly, mimicking the shape of a gun with her hand. "What did you say, Shehzadi?" Iman asked, worriedly, hoping she had heard wrong. Why would the shoot her husband? "The officers shot Baba. They shot him in the Lucky Pastures. Th-th-they said he was the bad guy. They said," Khadijah said as her lips trembled but she fought back her tears bravely "It's Khan! He's a Muslim!" She was dumbfounded. Iman looked at her daughter and whispered in disbelief, "What? Is that what they said? Where's your father now, Shehzadi? Is he still in the Lucky Pastures area? That's the one with the Leprechaun ride, right?" "They shot him, Mama! He was bleeding and lying on the ground near the big field. He tried saying something, but they hit him with a gun in his head. His leg was really hurt. The bomb went off next to us and it hurt Baba a lot. They hit him and then he-he didn't say anything. Mama, they killed him!" Khadijah cried out in distress.
"Mrs. Khan?" A burly middle-aged officer called out as he approached the young woman with a squad of police officers. "We are going to have to ask you to come with us." "Where's my husband?" Iman asked furiously. "Where is he?" "Ma'am, we can ask you nicely or we can forcefully restrain you. You will come with us," the man said with a growl. Iman felt her heart race as she followed the men with her daughter in her arms. Her husband wasn't the one responsible. There was no way anyone could believe that. He was a productive member of society. He fought for their country and was a hero to many, but as she was forced inside a van, she knew that these men thought otherwise. Iman clutched Khadijah protectively as they men stared emotionlessly at them. The driver of the van drove recklessly for nearly fifteen minutes before stopping abruptly.
The door to the van was yanked open violently by a heavily armored member of the SWAT force. His mouth was covered with a mask, but his eyes showed the hatred he had for Iman and her daughter. He reached out to pull Iman out, but hesitated once the young mother whispered fiercely, "Manhandle me or her and I will make you suffer. Understand that I came here of my own will. I am NOT under arrest nor detained. I know my rights very well." With that, she exited the van while clutching Khadijah against her.
What did you think? What are your thoughts about Iman? Thank you for the votes and comments from the prologue. You guys are absolutely wonderful. :) Please continue to vote, comment, and share!