~ Dan ~

"The Model United Nations are a good opportunity for you to shine. You'll gain experience." His father said. "So, I have enrolled name with the school. It will last two days and will be held on the 21st of September."

"But, father." Dan's throat felt dry. He was shaking slightly and his palms were clammy. "That's just a month away. I-I can't–"

"Is that an excuse I hear, Daniel?" His father shifted slightly and narrowed his eyes.

"No, father." Dan looked down and chewed his lip.

"Good." He looked at Dan through his reading glasses. He stood up, picked up a booklet that sat on the coffee table and handed it to Dan. "Get to work. I will hear from you tonight. Do not disappoint me, Daniel."

"Yes, father." Dan gripped the booklet tightly, not daring to look his father in the eyes.

"You may leave." His father dismissed.

Dan turned around and rushed towards his room. He closed the door gingerly and locked it, even though he knew that his father would be leaving for work in a while.

Dan fell back on his bed and closed his eyes. He didn't want to do it.

There is no time.

He had his mid term exams coming up in September. He did not need this.

After a few minutes, he finally made the effort to sit up and stare at the booklet in his hands.

51st MUN held by GD Goenka World's School

Dan flipped the page.

Model United Nation is an intra-school, interactive opportunity for students to become familiar with international issues and learn diplomacy. Various branches of the UN will be imitated and you, the delegates, will represent countries working in it.

Dan had heard about MUN before but he wasn't really keen on the idea of it. What even was the point? A couple of students act like diplomats trying to solve real life issues? They debate back and forth until they pass a resolution? And then what? All they could ever achieve was a fake solution to a real problem.

Dan sighed and went through the booklet. Apparently, he was part of the UNSC; United Nations Security Council, and he would be the delegate of Saudi Arabia. His world issue would be the Israel-Palestine Conflict.

Dan wanted to pull out his hair.

Not only had he gotten the longest and most complicated issue, but he also got a country who wasn't very diplomatic. It wasn't even a permanent member of the SC. What the hell was he going to do?

Dan decide to go through the background guide and understand what the hell the conflict was about. One hour in and he already felt his brain melting.

But he had to do it. His father would want to hear how much he had learned. Maybe he could just prepare the first introductory speech and study the topic briefly.

He sat down with his laptop and notebook and started working. Studying years of history, current terrorism and memorising hundreds of resolutions.

Hours passed and Dan realised that the sun and gone down. He looked down at his watch. 6:30PM. His father would be home in two hours.

Dan was on the precipice of panic and terror. He hadn't even started working on the speech.

He pulled out a new page and started writing; with an example speech by his side. After proofreading it, he started practicing.

He paced around his room, trying his best to recite his speech with confidence and passion.

"Good morning, delegates and the honourable Executive Board." Dan spoke clearly and firmly, trying not to look at the paper in his hands. "Today's agenda before the committee is the Arab-Israeli Conflict. I'm the delegate of Saudi Arabia and I would like to begin by quoting our foreign minister, Saud al-Faisal."

Dan waited for the words to start leaving his mouth.

None did.

He threw the paper down in frustration and kicked his bed. He let out a pained groan, "Fuck this!"

Dan sighed and tried to calm himself. He ran his fingers through his hair.

I can do this. This is fine. I'm fine.

He heard the front door click open.

I can't fucking do this!

"Daniel?" He heard his father's voice call out.

"One minute!" He yelled back and quickly gathered his papers. He took a deep breath before heading out into the lounge.

"Have you studied, Daniel?" His father asked. He didn't even look at Dan. He just loosened his tie and set down his office bag.

"Yes, father." Dan met his father's eyes briefly. They were dark and old. His father was ancient. Wrinkles crisscrossed his pale face and sunken sockets made his harsh eyes pop. Dan wondered why his mother had even married the man.

"Good." His father said firmly. "I will hear from you tonight."

Dan nodded and left.

He knew that his father would call him in half an hour; that was generally how long it took for him to freshen up after office. The entire while, all Dan could do was pace around his room murmuring to himself and occasionally tugging his hair in frustration.

"Daniel!" His father called.

"Yes, father!" Dan rushed out with his notes in hand.

The man was dressed in plain pyjamas and a shirt. He was leaning against refrigerator with a glass of whiskey in hand.

Dan set down his notes on the breakfast bar and faced his father. He was glad that they had the counter between them. It was reassuring.

"I hope you have gone over the process of committee meetings." He didn't meet Dan's eyes. As if Dan was too inferior. "I'll hear your introduction. Sixty seconds, plus-minus ten seconds. Go."

Dan cleared his throat.

"Good morning respected Executive Board and fellow delegates. Today's agenda before the committee is the Arab-Israeli conflict. I, the delegate of Saudi Arabia, would like to begin by quoting Saud al-Faisal, the foreign minister of Saudi Arabia."

He noticed his voice wasn't as confident as it usually was.

"'The Kingdom deplores and condemns all actions in Jerusalem which are in conflict with the nature of the city and with the legitimate rights of its Arab population therein.'"

He paused for dramatic effect. He was genuinely surprised that he had gotten the quote right.

"Saudi Arabia is a monarchy; birthplace of Islam and home to its two holiest cities, Mecca and Medina. The Kingdom believes that the dispute can be settled in a straightforward manner on the basis of existing UN resolutions. The Kingdom supports Palestinian rights to…"

He went on and on. He regretted not timing his speech beforehand but he decided to just go with it and follow his instincts.

He spoke clearly and firmly. Enunciating at correct moments, stopping for dramatic pauses and stressing on important points. He tried his best to adopt an aggressive but diplomatic body language that Saudi Arabia was known for; fierce eyes, aggressive hand gestures and powerful words.

His father didn't even spare him a glance. He just stared at his untouched whiskey glass. Expressionless and still. Dan could've convinced himself that he was merely a statue.

Dan finished speaking and looked at his father expectantly.

Dan's father lazily met his eyes. Dan felt threatened. His father wasn't usually like that.

"Almost three minutes." He declared. Dan cringed. He scolded himself silently.

His father puckered his lips slightly looked at Dan in a calculating manner.

"You said you studied." He said. "Is that correct?"

"Yes, father." Dan tried to keep his voice from cracking.

"So, tell me, Daniel," he drained the glass in his hand and stepped towards Dan, "who is the foreign minister of Saudi Arabia?"

"Saud al-Faisal." Dan replied. He wanted to run away. His father was so close to him. Dan didn't dare to look at him but he could still feel his father's intense gaze that bore into him.

"Oh really?" His father leaned forward.

"Yes." Dan almost squeaked out.

Dan's father slapped the side of Dan's head hard. "Who is it?"

"I don't know." Dan whimpered. He was sure that he'd read the name Saud al-Faisal.

"Fucking idiot!" His father banged Dan's head against the counter. "He was the former foreign minister! You haven't studied. You're a liar."

Dan clutched his head and stood up straight. He knew straight away that he'd have a concussion.

His father walked in front of him and Dan turned around. His back was now against the breakfast bar.

"You're speech was not good enough." His father announced. "Your arguments are outdated and you haven't used enough institutional evidence."

"I'm sorry, father." Dan pushed out the words quickly. He knew that apologising was the best option at that moment if he wanted to avoid further injury.

"You're not." He spat and slapped Dan.

Dan could only take what his father threw at him. He had no other choice.

Dan's father snatched his notes.

"I assume you have studied the resolutions?" He said. Dan knew it wasn't a question.

"I will hear them from you." He decided before Dan could muster a response.

"What was Resolution 497?" His father demanded.

"I–" Dan didn't know. He didn't know and he was afraid.

"What was Resolution 497?" His father threw down Dan's notes and demanded.

Dan stared at his father with wide panicked eyes.

"You don't know?" His father leaned forward. "You don't fucking know?" He hissed, his voice dripping with venom.

Dan couldn't get his mouth to form words. He knew it was too late. The best he could do was try not to pass out.

"Let me teach you." His father was close enough for him to smell the alcohol on his breath. Dan realised that the whiskey wasn't the only drinking he'd done.

He punched Dan in the stomach.

"It calls" punch "for the withdrawal" punch "of Israel" punch "from the" punch "Golan Heights."

"Repeat after me!" He punched Dan's cheek now. Dan could feel a wetness drip down his face.

"I-It calls f-for the…the w-withdrawal of I-Israel f-f-from the…" He managed to stammer. He couldn't form sentences. The pain was too much.

"Repeat, Daniel!" His father smacked his head. "Make that shit brain for yours work!"

That particular hit had a greater impact than any other blows. He heard a whooshing echo in his ears and he doubled over.

"Stand up straight!" He gripped Dan's throat and forced him to meet his eyes.

"Now," he spat, "repeat!"

Dan couldn't manage any words. His face was swollen, his torso hurt too much and his head was on fire.

Dan's father kept staring at Dan expectantly. Finally, he gave up and pushed him back against the counter. The back of his head banged harshly against the metal underneath him.

"Useless, worthless…" His father glared. "Just like your sister. I thought I could mould you into someone smart. But you're just like your mother and sister. Both useless. Got themselves killed and left your sorry ass with me"

He continued grumbling and cursing Dan's mother and sister. Dan wished he could stand up and, scream and claw at his father but he couldn't moved. He could only glare daggers at him.

"What are you looking at?" His father demanded.

"D-Don't you d-dare sp-speak about them like t-that, you f-fucker." Dan grunted, barely audible.

"What the fuck did you just say?" He screamed and threw himself at Dan. He wrapped his hands around Dan's throat and pressed his thumbs down; blocking out his wind pipe.

"D-Don't you d-dare…" Dan managed to choke out. His father's eyes were wilder than what Dan had ever known. Dan flailed around helplessly, trying to get air into his lungs.

He stretched out his arms and tried to grab onto something – anything, that he could use to push his father away. His palms beat against the counter blindly until they curled around a handle of some sort.

Dan realised that the handle was in fact, a hilt. Of a knife.

He couldn't think straight. The corners of his eyes were going black and the grip on his throat was getting tighter. He felt like his eyes were about to pop out and his face was hot with blood.

Dan stared into his father's cruel eyes before plunging the knife deep into his back with all his might.

Shock, realisation, pain and unconscious.

He went limp and so did Dan.

Dan woke up in a puddle of his own vomit. His head was throbbing and his vision was fuzzy. What was he doing on the floor?

He tried to sit up straight and groggily managed to support himself by leaning on the wall behind him.

He narrowed his eyes and noticed a red colour seeping into his clothes and vomit. He scrunched up his nose in repulsion. The room stank of acid and death.

Death.

He blinked hard and the lifeless body of his father came into focus.

What have I done?

He couldn't handle it. He doubled over and vomited again. He tried to stay conscious but failed.

Loud sirens and the sound of people rushing around in hurry. That's what woke him up. He was strapped onto a stretcher and a young black woman with short wild hair stood beside him.

"Your father is dead." She said. "And we know it was you."