NOTE: This is an original story not based on or inspired by any fandom, author, or story. Later chapters may include certain triggers, but I will put notes at the beginning of each chapter, so please read them (I'm not exactly sure what counts as a trigger so I decided to err on the side of caution). I have put a lot of work into it and would very much appreciate anyone who takes the time to read it. Reviews are very much welcome and encouraged. Thanks :D

Trigger warning: abusive parents

The door creaked softly as she tiptoed into the house. She had just come back from one of the best nights of her life. The party was filled with all of her friends and lots of cute boys; she even flirted with a few. All of her favourite songs were played, and she danced until one in the morning, when she'd decided it was time to go home. She wasn't supposed to be out past 8:30, but the party started at 10, so she snuck out of her bedroom window, and into her friends' awaiting car.

"Wow, you look fantastic."

"Your hair is so silky and long."

"I love that skirt," her friends had chimed as she got into the car. She expected similar praise from them, as she'd never worn her hair out because her religion, enforced by her father, required that she cover it with a Hijab.

She had been feeling particularly rebellious, so she was wearing a sequined, sleeveless top and a fitted black skirt that was well above the knee. She'd figured that her parents trusted her enough not to check on her, and would be fast asleep by the time she got home, so a change of clothes wasn't needed. However, as she crept around her living room, feeling her way to the stairs, the kitchen light clicked on.

She froze, her foot hovering above the first step. She slowly turned to face her father, her heart thumping so loudly, she was sure he would hear it.

"Hello Aisha," he said calmly, which frightened her even more.

If she had been able to tear her eyes away from her incensed father, she would have seen her mother cowering in the corner of the room.

"You're late," he stated simply, rising from his seat at the kitchen table. "And what is this?" He pulled at the sequins on her shirt.

"They're sequins, Dad," she began to explain, but was interrupted by another one of her father's questions.

"Aisha, where's your Hijab?

Oh crap.

"Oh, um, well, I – " she stuttered, quivering with fear, not wanting her father to go on a rampage and verbally abuse her again.

"Aisha Rahmani, how dare you!?" he suddenly exploded, his booming voice bouncing off the walls. "You know how your mother and I feel about our religion!" Her mother flinched at the mention of her existence, and although Aisha knew her mother was not as deeply religious as her husband thought, she was too afraid to say anything to him.

"Islamism is frowned upon as it is, without being betrayed by one of our own!"

"But that's the point, Daddy! I don't want to be a Muslim!" she screamed defensively back in his face, drawing herself up to her full height, though she still didn't come close to his six foot three form. Aisha refused to be spoken down to like that again. She was just fed up with her father trying to run her life.

Her mother tried to intervene before things got too out of hand, but was pushed back by her husband's strong hands. For a moment, Aisha was worried that her father's abuse may finally have turned from verbal to physical. Luckily, her mother's stunned expression said otherwise.

"Well then," he replied, voice growing colder with each word, "if you don't want to be a part of the family religion, then you are no longer a part of the family." The silence that followed was deafening, yet no one tried to break it. They were too stunned by Aisha's father's last words. Aisha herself could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Disbelief clouded her thoughts as she became unable to comprehend what he'd just said. She didn't understand his logic at all; that his religion was more important than his own daughter.

Finally, someone spoke. "You have half an hour to pack your things and leave," her father said, looking at his watch as if to time her. Aisha could tell by his pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows that he was entirely serious, so she rushed upstairs, grabbing her suitcase on the way up. Tears pouring down her face, she packed mindlessly, her thoughts on the encounter downstairs. She could not believe her mother. Aisha knew by how careful her mother was around him, that she'd always been afraid of her husband, but Aisha thought any mother would have lifted a finger for their own daughter.

The microwave timer beeped in warning, signalling her time was almost up. She tore her clothes out of her wardrobe and threw them into her suitcase, not bothering to fold them. Aisha hurried downstairs just as the timer went off, dragging her suitcase behind her.

"Now get out." Her father's tone was final as he pointed towards the front door.

"Mom?" Aisha's pleading eyes turned to her mother, but the woman paid no attention to her. Her eyes were glued to the floor and she stood stock still, as if not wanting to disturb a sleeping dragon. Upon seeing that her mother could not care less whether her daughter stayed or not, Aisha burst into a fresh wave of tears and fled from the place she had once called home.

The cold night air stung as it hit her face and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Suddenly, a realisation hit her like a freight train; she was homeless. She'd been disowned by her only family, and she now had nowhere else to go. She sunk to the pavement, clutching at her chest. She had never felt so hopeless in her life. Sure, she'd been lost and alone before, but this was a whole new level of desperate. At first, she hadn't a clue where to go or what to do, but as she contemplated possible places to stay, she remembered a certain thing her old friend Faith had once said: "My door is always open. If you ever need a place to stay, don't hesitate to ask me." Yet still she hesitated – the two hadn't spoken in years, and Aisha wondered if that offer still stood.

Although, she pondered as she wandered down the street, I've got no other options and nothing to lose, so why not?

Luckily, Faith only lived a few blocks away, so she dragged herself to her feet.

Upon arriving at what used to be her second home, Aisha rang the doorbell, hoping Faith's family would hear it. After a few seconds, the door opened to reveal her elementary-school best friend, Faith.

"Aisha?"