Jamal
"I'm sorry Mr. Jamal but I can't let you come with us," Mr. Badmus says, strapping a bulletproof vest to his chest.
I raise my voice so he can hear me clearly above the noise. "If you think I'm going to sit around and do nothing then you're wrong."
He yells some orders at the group of policemen gathered around us before turning to me.
"We have no assurance that she hasn't been moved to a different location, so it's best if-"
"I leave it to you?" I interrupt, impatience and anger building up. "Your first priority won't be to search for my wife, but to apprehend every criminal in sight. So I'm not going to let this chance slip by to do it myself."
Mr. Badmus cocks a gun while glaring at me, his attempt to intimidate me into backing down.
I cross my arms and return his stare, my fist clenched in trying to keep myself together.
Ever since I'd gotten the call informing me of Nadia's location, there's not been a moment of rest for me. All I want is to reach her as soon as possible, and to find her safe and alive.
It'd come as a shock upon releasing how useless our efforts were in thinking that their hideout would be in the usual spots. Every uncompleted building in the city had been searched, abandoned structures and even the surrounding towns as well.
And each attempt had been futile.
It wasn't after the policemen had found out about Mr. Freddy's involvement with the case that everything started to fall into place. Before that, no one had thought to look into Badra's constant visit to his house, or the reason behind the weekend parties he hosted across the several mansions he owned.
Nothing had prepared me for the utter bewilderment and anger I'd felt after learning that Nadia was being kept hostage in the same house I'd built, standing right there in the open and under our noses. All this time I'd felt she was faraway, but in reality she'd been so close within reach. The knowledge of it had stripped my heart, exposing it to a different level of pain I'd never felt.
I'd later learnt that every single one of Mr. Freddy's mansions had a warehouse or a basement of some sort meant as a storage facility, except it was for a completely different reason. By hiding those children in his own property, he'd cleverly covered up his sinful activities and avoided any suspicions.
"You do realise that I'm not supposed to be doing this?" Mr. Badmus grits out at me, halting my train of thoughts.
I push myself off the wall I'd been leaning on, giving him a nod.
"You come with us, and you do so at your own risk," he says sternly, then calls out to an officer. The other man joins us and Mr. Badmus assigns him to me, ordering him not to let me out of his sight.
We leave soon after, each team heading to a specific location. It takes a couple of minutes before we arrive at Mr. Freddy's premises, and everyone goes silent as the car slowly comes to a halt. Faraway, the lights from the house shine through the darkness like slits, some rooms obscured from view by curtains.
The police men go over their plan of attack again, as well as other alternatives in case of any complications. And while they murmur in agreement, all I can think of is Nadia being locked up in one of those room, frightened and alone.
Ya Allah, please help me find her, and keep her safe for me.
"...We go in stealthily and put an end to these criminals, am I clear?"
"Yes sir," comes the enthusiastic chants as they begin to drop down from the back of the van one after the other, until it's just two men left.
I make to get up from my seat, but a hand shoves me back.
"I'm sorry sir, we have our orders to detain you until the operation is over," I hear a gruff voice say, his face hidden by the darkness.
The feeling of being withheld at a moment when I'm so close to finding Nadia doesn't sit well with me. "I don't care what your orders are because I didn't come out here for nothing!"
The officer beside me snickers, "Well that's exactly what you'll be doing... Nothing-"
The sound of gunshots going off shuts the officer up, and they both sit up straighter, alert and ready for whatever comes. They start to debate amongst themselves, making a choice between staying behind or joining the fight. It doesn't take long before a static sound erupts from their radio, and a voice yelling for backup. It puts an end to their argument as they both jump out the back, forgetting about my presence entirely.
I waste no time in slipping outside a couple of seconds after they leave, finding my way with the help of the light beams from the house.
The closer I get, the more I realise how bloody and dangerous the surroundings are. My chances of not getting hit by a stray bullet become slimmer as I creep closer to the centre of the fight. I almost trip over twice by not looking at the ground, and both times I'd stared into the faces of dead men.
The chaos escalates to the point where I have to shield myself behind a car. More shots get fired between both parties while some are engaged in physical fight. Confused as to how to go about searching for Nadia, I stare at the house a couple of metres away from me, trying to get a view into the rooms. Most of the windows have been shattered by bullets, and the building seems to have received it's own share of the pelting metals.
I take a couple of seconds to catch my breath, and amidst the yells and screams, I pick up the strained voice of a girl somewhere far from me. By her frantic tone, it's seems she asking for help or trying to help someone else.
Could she be one of the girls who'd been in the house?
The thought suddenly causes me to rethink my initial plan of reaching the house. Getting to the girl first might provide me with a solid clue as to where to find Nadia, especially if they'd come across each other in the house.
Using the girl's voice as a guide, I begin to make my way towards her quickly. The closer I get, the more her voice becomes clearer and louder.
"We have to leave now! Please!" I hear her beg.
Whoever she's talking to doesn't seem to respond, or perhaps I can't hear her companion.
"For Muneerah's sake, please. We have to go Nadia-"
The name sends my heart pounding, from shock and anticipation. Without wasting a second, I take off in a sprint, praying fervently that she's the one.
I get to the other side of the estate, and come across a small clearing not too far from the surrounding wilderness. And right there in the middle of a small group, is my Nadia kneeling on the bare earth over someone, her back facing me. There's no way I can mistake her for another person, not with those long curls, and even without them, I'd still know.
My knees go weak from relief, and if it wasn't for the situation at hand, I'd have cried out in joy. Keeping my emotions in check, I wipe the tears from my eyes and approach her, walking slowly so I don't frighten her.
The other girl snaps her eyes to me lightening quick, and I can tell she's the one whose voice led me here. She scrambles for a thick branch on the ground and aims it at me, her face set in a dispassionate expression.
"If you take one more step towards us, I swear I'll make sure I hurt you in whatever way possible!" She threatens, rubbing the back of her hand over her eyes. She glances at Nadia and a little girl with a protective gaze, looking even more fiercer.
"I'm not here to hurt you, alright? I came for my wife," I lift both my hands, hoping Nadia would turn around at the sound of my voice, but she's still hunched over the body on the ground, silent and unmoving as if she bears the weight of all the sadness the world contains. That doesn't sit well with me, and I take a step towards her.
"Nadia it's-"
The swing of the sharp branch has me retreating back a step, and I lock gaze with the girl in front of me. As much as I appreciate her actions in trying to defend herself and the others, I'd hate to have to end up wrestling that thing out of her hands. And as easy as that sounds, I'd rather put her at ease and make her believe my words.
"What's your name then?" She asks.
"Jamal Ziyad," I reply calmly.
"J-Jamal?"
Nadia turns her head slowly, her eyes weak and unsettled as she stares at me with disbelief.
I walk towards Nadia, not minding the girl with the branch and kneel beside her. It's her, I whisper inwardly, as if my brain hadn't registered it till now.
"It's my fault," she whispers, looking dejected.
I stare at the blood on her clothes, and her hand gripping the cold ones of the body. Some of the blood on her is already dried, while the stain on her side still looks fresh.
"Nadia, what-" I start to say, but then notice that her eyes are starting to flutter shut and her breath becomes shallow. Panicked, I touch the area where the fresh blood pools and she moans in pain, her face twisted. I raise her shirt slightly, and see an ugly flesh wound the length of my finger that's beginning to swell.
I quickly press a finger to her neck, and the faint pulse I find there doesn't feel encouraging. Nadia slumps against me, immediately going unconscious.
Without wasting a beat, I gather her in my arms gently, disheartened by how light and weightless she is.
"You're safe now, my love," I whisper softly against her forehead, wishing I could get out of here faster.
"Are you coming with me or not?" I ask the other girl, not wanting to leave her behind.
"I am," she replies with her chin up, tucking the little girl's hand in hers.
We've barely covered a few metres before a police van pulls up in front of us. Mr. Badmus takes one look at Nadia in my arms, and then at me. He asks the men in the passenger seat at the back to get down, giving me enough room to lay Nadia on. Her friend and the little girl also ride with us, and Mr. Badmus orders his colleague to drive to the nearest hospital.
"I'm glad you found her," Mr. Badmus comments, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
I close my eyes briefly, letting my pounding heart return to its normal rhythm as we drive away from the nightmare of a place I'd helped create. Gazing down at Nadia, I wonder what share of horrors she'd witnessed there and pray in my heart that she'll be alright. But only Allah knows what will happen after this, as well as the impact it'll have on all our lives.
***
"Why can't we see her yet? Aren't they taking too long in there?" Aunt Malika questions, asking no one in particular as she paces in front of the hospital room.
The tension stretches taut as time goes by, everyone eager to see Nadia again.
On the drive to the hospital, Mr. Badmus had contacted my family to break the news, but he didn't inform them of the state Nadia was in. Our families had rushed to the hospital expecting to see her hale and hearty, only to find out that they couldn't see her until necessary tests were done. It's been more than an hour since we'd arrived, and we're yet to learn about her condition.
Already tight with nervousness, I slip away from the rest of the family to get some space, feeling crowded all of a sudden. I locate a bathroom and go in, heading towards the sink to wash my hands. Nadia's blood turn pink in the white sink, the image burning fiercely in my mind.
I am desperately in need of Your help, Ya Allah. Please guide us through these tough times.
Releasing a breath, I splash some water on my face before returning to the family. I notice Aunt Safy had arrived within the short time I was away, Usman and Qaseem coming along with her.
"Are you the family of Nadia Ali?" A masculine voice questions behind me, catching the attention of everyone.
"Yes," I reply, glancing at the door to her room.
The doctor hums, taking a pen out of his coat to make a scribble on the file he's holding.
"Well, you can see her now, but only for a few minutes. She's currently asleep and I would not recommend anyone to disturb her," he advises, staring at us.
"Can you tell us what happened to her?" I ask.
He frowns at me, "Yes, yes, I was getting to that. She was grazed by a bullet, which thankfully didn't lodge itself into her skin, but caused some damage to the surrounding skin and tissue. Our biggest fear now is the risk of infection. With the amount of debris we had to remove from the wound, it's hard to zero out that risk, so we'll be keeping her in the hospital for a week or more, depending on her recovery."
I listen attentively as he speaks, my fists clenched by my side. There's no telling how much pain Nadia must be in, and it hurts that I can't do anything to make it go away.
"...As well as the tests we conducted. It seems like whoever held her captive was well aware of her condition," He flips through a page on the file, "From what I can see, there's no complication whatsoever, and no harm to the fetus."
My heart lurches in its cage, and I furrow my brows at the doctor, thinking I'd heard wrong. "Did you say fetus?" I ask disbelievingly, the word ringing in my ears.
"Yes, your wife is five weeks pregnant, and if that bullet had been a couple of inches farther, she'd have lost it."
Whatever strength had been keeping me up gets sapped away, leaving me weak and disoriented as I crouch low. Everyone's words barely register in my ears. I drop my head in my palms and cry, mixed emotions raging through me.
She was carrying our baby when she'd been taken.
I feel mom by my side as nestles my head against her. She rubs my back, "I've got you, son. Let it all out. You're aren't alone, Jamal. Allah has blessed us despite our hardship, and we're here for you."
"I couldn't protect my own family, mom. I-"
"That's enough," she chides. "She's here now, and that's what matters the most. We'll not say anything that displeases our Lord, no matter how much pain we're in. Let's focus on taking care of your wife and bringing her home, alright?"
I heave out a breath, feeling a bit calmer and clear headed. "I'll try, mom."
Alhamdulillah, how close I'd come to losing both my wife and a baby I wouldn't have known about.
She smiles at me before returning back to dad's side. Aunt Malika also says a few words of comfort to me, then leaves with mom to get more information from the doctor concerning Nadia's care.
"Seeing as she was gone for that long," Qaseem starts, fiddling with his phone. "I think y'all should be worried about who the father of the child might be-"
His words sends a slash of murderous rage through me, his filthy accusation turning everything inside of me to an intense hatred I've never felt before.
"What the hell did you just say?" I grind out, crossing the distance between us in a few strides. My fists twist the collar of his shirt, tight enough for him to start gasping and slam his head against the wall.
"I-it was a j-joke," he sputters, slapping my fists weakly to get me to release him.
Uncle Ali and my dad rush over to restrain me, dad's threatening voice slashing through the thick fog of rage I'd succumbed myself to.
"Jamal! Let him go this instant!"
Usman places a hand on my fists, pushing them down a little. He stares at me calmly, shaking his head and urging me to back down. He knows I'd have done worse to Qaseem if it wasn't for the respect I have for his mom.
Bitterly, I remove my hands from his collar and watch in satisfaction as he bows on his knees, gasping for air.
Aunt Safy walks past me towards him, not saying a word as she stares at him.
"Mom, did you see how he-"
The thundering slap that follows is one I'd never expected from Aunt Safiyyah, not in a thousand years. Qaseem's jaw goes slack as they both stare at each other, surprised by her action. And for the first time, I see tears in Aunt Safy's eyes, as well as the pain in them. Hitting him was something she'd probably never thought she would do.
"I did not raise you up to be this insensitive, Qaseem. How could you say something like to your own cousin?" She chokes on a sob, "How could you spew such hateful words and make me hit you? What's gotten into you?"
Qaseem frowns and glares at me, eyes blazing with fury and hatred. Wherever the source of those emotions are, I could care less.
"And that's why you slapped me? Because of him?"
Aunt Safy starts to shake her head, "No, I'm so sorry-"
"I always knew I never belonged in this family," he utters, glancing at everyone and letting his gaze linger on Usman. "You only took me in because of pity. He was right all along, Sola was right."
An expression of surprise flashes across Aunt Safy's face and she grips his hand. "What do you mean by that, Qaseem? He lied to you, son I-"
He flings her hands away, glaring at her. "After my wedding, he contacted me and apologized. He told me everything, that you're the reason why dad left my mother. If it weren't for you, my brother wouldn't have led such a life, and I wouldn't be here with all of you. You ruined my parents' marriage and thought you'd take pity on me by raising me? By telling me lies about my mother?" Qaseem laughs bitterly, "I wish you'd let me die instead of bringing me up in your home."
With that, he turns around and walks out, leaving everyone gaping in shock, and aunt Safy in a mess.
Usman rushes to his mother, wrapping his arms around her as she bursts into tears. Never have I seen aunt Safy like this, so emotional and distraught. It only proves how much she loves Qaseem, and the hurt look on Usman is one that pains me. Here he is, comforting a mother who'd never once shown him a smidgen of affection, but is crying over a son who's decided to turn his back on all the years of love and devotion he's received.
This is messed up, I sigh, at a loss for what to do.
"I'm going to take her home," Usman says to dad and walks away.
Dad sighs, shaking his head thoughtfully. "It's time we leave as well, Jahid and Hafsah must be getting agitated by now. I presume you'll be staying in the hospital, right?" He directs the question to me, already aware of the answer.
I nod, "I have to be here when she wakes up."
"Thought as much." He hugs me tightly, "We'll be here first thing in the morning."
"In sha Allah, take care."
He leaves soon after with mom after bidding goodnight to Nadia's parents. The three of us head towards Nadia's room, aunt Malika immediately claiming the seat beside the bed. She reaches for her daughter's limp hand, her eyes welling with tears as she begins to whisper softly. Her voice carries gently with the song she's singing in her native language, something like a lullaby.
I brush my fingers across Nadia's face, wishing this stage would just pass us by. Seeing her lying on the bed shatters my heart, and the deathly look she has; colourless and pale.
"Jamal," Aunt Malika calls out in a worried tone, glancing at me.
I note the hesitancy in her expression as she tries to speak, and the fear in her eyes catches my attention. "About what your cousin said earlier, do-"
Shaking my head, I pat her hand reassuringly. "No, aunt. I don't care what he says, and I'm sorry for interrupting you, but I don't want you to bother about anything. Not only did I ask Allah to bring Nadia back to me, but I also asked Him to always keep her safe. The doctor already told us that she was pregnant before the incident, and that she wasn't harmed in anyway." I smile at her to lift her spirits a bit. "We just have to focus on her recovery and taking her home, in sha Allah."
"In sha Allah," she replies, her eyes warm as she kisses Nadia's hand. "You've been through so much, my dear. I pray Allah grants you quick recovery, your mother misses you dearly, and I cannot wait to hear your voice again, my child."
***
I feel a slight pressure on my fingers, the small action quick enough to snap me out of the hazy state I was in.
"Nadia?"
Her eye lids flutter open slowly as she comes out of unconsciousness, her lips parting as she breathes. I press the call button by the side of the bed, and a nurse rushes in a minute later.
The nurse checks on Nadia's vitals and increases the flow of the IV line. "This is a good sign, hopefully her recovery will be at a faster rate. The only problem she'll have is dealing with the pain from the wound."
"And what about the baby?"
"The sooner she's able to start eating, the better it is for the fetus. She'll probably fall asleep again, so don't tire her out so soon. I'll call the doctor to come check on her," she says, winding her stethoscope over her neck.
"Jamal?" Her voice comes out cracked and raspy.
"I'm here," I reply, grateful for this bit of progress. Her eyes rest on me for a long time, and she doesn't say anything else.
Everything I'd once associated those brown orbs with are gone, replaced by fear, uncertainty and pain. I manage to put a grip over my emotions and be strong for her, for the both of us.
"Where are they?" She asks.
"Who?"
She replies wearily, taking her time to talk despite the pain she's in. "Yoona, Muneerah and... Stella?"
I'd had an inkling about who she was asking about, but how to break the news to her is what's troubling me.
Mr. Badmus had visited the hospital a couple of hours before fajr to give me an update concerning the case, and Nadia's parents were still around then. According to him, they'd been able to arrest Mr. Freddy, along with his associates who'd already been planning on escaping out of the country. Most of his thugs had died in the shootout, amongst them Sola, while others had sustained injuries. He didn't have any news on Badra, but her family abroad had been contacted. I'd had no doubt that she'd fled long before the raid, choosing to run away before she got into trouble.
I'd finally gotten the information about the girls who were with Nadia, and not a single thing I heard was good. The two who'd survived, Yoona and Muneerah had gotten mixed up with the traffickers by accident, and the little girl has an even more saddening story no child should ever have. The one who'd died, Stella had devoted herself to the vile men, and had eventually fallen in love with Sola. She was used and manipulated continuously to the point she'd given up on everything and chose to remain by his side.
"This isn't the right time, Nadia. You're still weak," I say, hoping to distract her.
She shakes her head. "Tell me, please," she begs, and hearing her use that tone with me is not something I want. That helpless, desperate tone she'd probably used with her kidnappers to plead with them.
Starting slowly, I watch for any slight reaction from her so I'll know when to stop. "Stella's body was taken to morgue, she'll be buried tomorrow."
Nadia shuts her eyes briefly, tears slipping out. "And the rest?"
Knowing how much the truth will devastate her, I opt for the opposite. In the state she's in, any shocking news will do more harm than good. I ask Allah for forgiveness, praying to never be in this situation where I'll have to lie to my wife again.
"They're being taken care of, they'll be fine in sha Allah."
That seems to brings some relief to her as she nods weakly, fighting to stay awake. "I promised her, Alhamdulillah." Her fingers grow limp in my hand as she slips back into unconsciousness.
I watch her thin body settle into sleep, wondering how she'll feel when she eventually finds out about what's happening inside of her.
***
Over the next two weeks, Nadia recovers at a steady pace, to the point where she's able to sit up on the bed without any help.
She'd found out about the pregnancy a couple of days after she'd woken up, and her immediate reaction had been shock, followed by denial. It wasn't until she's seen the sonogram that she'd come to terms with the fact that she's carrying a child, ours.
Not a day goes by without her asking to see Yoona and Muneerah, and everytime, I put it off with a promise for her to get better first.
But despite how much she's recovering physically, I can't help but think that it's the least of our problems. Perhaps it's because I've become more attentive than before, and every little bit of her actions doesn't go unnoticed. The way she tries to hide her nervousness whenever someone bangs the door, or her new found fear of turning the lights off. Even more worrying is how she tries to hide them, like she doesn't trust anyone enough to share her fears.
It'd prompted me to seek professional advice from the doctor, and the only plausible solution he could recommend was to seek therapy. The first time I'd broached the topic with Nadia, she'd refused and denied the fact that she needs it, putting an end to the discussion. Every other thing I'd said to persuade her had been met by silence, that uncomfortable silence she now occasionally shuts herself in, locking me out like I no longer exist.
After three weeks of staying in the hospital, the doctor had given us the OK to take Nadia home. Mom had wanted us to move in with them so she can help look after Nadia, while aunt Malika wanted her daughter home with her. Nadia had made the choice of rejecting both invitations, choosing to stay at our own place.
Now, a week after returning home, it hasn't been what I'd expected. I feel like we've just crossed one hurdle, only to overcome a bigger one. The emotional bond we once had has been severed dangerously, and no matter how hard I try to get it back, I find myself blocked by the walls Nadia's secured herself in.
Gone are the easy smiles, the playful banter and sparkly eyes.
Resting my head on the glass window, I stare out as far as I can see. Despite being here with me, I miss the person she used to be, I miss everything about her. But the love in my heart never lets the sadness last long, because getting to see her everyday is like a little boost to never stop trying.
My phone rings from my back pocket, and I take it out to answer it. Mr. Badmus' name flashes across the screen, and I frown, wondering what the call is about.
"Good afternoon Mr. Jamal," he greets in a calm tone, one that doesn't promise any good news.
"Did something happen?" I ask, bracing myself.
"Unfortunately, yes," he answers, sighing. "The little girl we took back to her parents..."
"You said she lived in Kano before right? Is Muneerah doing okay?"
"She passed away last night..." He proceeds to give me the details of her death, and I close my eyes, mourning the loss of a girl I never knew.
"...We should have investigated the parents properly before leaving her with them. We thought they would be happy to have their daughter back, but we thought wrong."
I rub a hand over my face, murmuring a du'a for her. She'd been so young, and yet she'd known nothing but pain. I'd wanted to keep her here in Abuja at Ar-Rahma knowing how much Nadia cares about her, but the police hadn't agreed, saying her parents would take care of her.
"I hope her death doesn't go in vain, her parents should be trialed."
"It's ongoing. We'll talk again, good bye."
I stuff the phone inside my pocket, my heart heavy again with this news.
"Who were you on the phone with? And whose death were you talking about?"
I turn around to find Nadia standing by the bedroom door, her eyes piercing as she approaches me. "Jamal, who was that?" She asks in that new tone of her that drifts slowly and raspily.
At a loss for words, I watch her cross the room to stand in front of me, struggling with how to break the news to her.
No more lies, Jamal.
Gently, I wrap an arm around her waist, feeling her frail body against me. "From the police, it's about Muneerah," I start, staring into her eyes.
I can tell she already suspects something by the way she gazes up at me, fear clouding her eyes. "W-what h-happened to her?" Her chin wobbles, tears slipping out of her eyes. She places both hands to cup my jaw.
"She's fine, right? P-please tell me she's alright."
"She..." I press my forehead to hers. Ya Allah, please take her grief away. "She passed away last night, I'm so sorry."
Nadia shakes her head vigorously, her voice becoming raspy and raw again. "No, you can't tell me that. Please don't, Jamal."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, holding her to my chest and sighing against her hair.
She starts to hit my chest, sobbing uncontrollably as her fists connect with my body.
"I p-promised S-stella I'd look after her," she pushes at my chest, wanting to free herself but I don't let her, keeping her locked in my arms as she struggles till she stops fighting.
"I promised, Jamal. She was j-just a child. How did she d-die? W-what happened?"
I wish I could take her pain away, do anything to remove every bit of sorrow from her heart. How much more can she take before she falls apart?
She finally stops fighting me and wrap her arms around my torso, releasing as much sadness as she can. Her voice becomes throaty and raw, reduced to a mere whisper.
"I promised."
How do I tell you, Nadia, that she took her own life by drowning herself.
"I'm so sorry," I say softly, pain lacing my voice as my tears start to fall. "I'm sorry."
***
*unedited
😭 I poured out my heart in this chapter. Anyone's got a tissue?