Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who read the prologue last chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. The story starts properly in this chapter, with Saria taking a trip for a family dinner, which does not run quite as smoothly as she would have liked. Please do note that I write long chapters, so you can expect this to be a regular thing as you read on. And again, I do not condone the actions or thoughts of these characters, I am merely getting into their heads as best I can.

I do not own The Kite Runner or any of its characters, plot points, quotes, etc. Those belong to Khaled Hosseini. I do, on the other hand, own any characters, plot points, etc, that are not found in the original novel.

Please enjoy!


I'll start, as all stories do, at the beginning. Now, not at the very beginning of my life — there is already enough tale to tell that does not encompass the formative years of my infancy — but at the beginning of this turbulent, downward spiral that I seem to find myself on. The year was 1974, a year in which my home, Kabul, Afghanistan, was not the terrible, war-torn hell hole that the rest of the world now sees it as. For my country, the end had not yet started, but it would soon. For me, the end started one faithful evening, on November 07th, one month prior to my twelfth birthday, on the day that I met the Kalahari family.

There I stood, half-naked in my bedroom, only dressed in a flimsy slip that barely covered my body, not even bothering to put stockings on my feet. With my hands resting on either side of my hips, I looked down at the utter carnage that I had just created. Dress after dress, skirt after skirt, blouse after blouse, they all lay strewn across the room. Some had been placed upon the bed, about as neat as I'd managed. That was earlier in the day, when the prospect of choosing an outfit did not fill me with the same level of ire as it did now. As time had gone on, however, my legendary frustration had gotten the better of me, which led to the clothes that were now tossed haphazardly across the room.

Time was not on my side, right now. I had but twenty minutes to choose what to wear, dress myself, and be downstairs before my family left for the dinner that they'd scheduled us to go to. 'Should really have picked your damn outfit long ago, Saria,' I chastised myself, rolling my eyes. 'You know how much of a struggle it is for you to find something to wear. And you also know what a fit your mother will pitch if your indecision makes us even a minute late to the Kalahari's house tonight.'

The Kalaharis were a family that lived a few streets down the road from us. Javid Kalahari was an airline pilot who worked with my father, and the two had gotten along quite well, both as business partners and as friends. In fact, their budding friendship was going so swimmingly, that Javid had invited not only my father, but also the entire family — including yours truly, and my older brother, to dine at their home. Another business venture, more likely, and one that, if I had my way, I would not be attending. But lo, I did not have my way.

Picking up a ruffled, floral gown, I held it to my chest, trying to gauge if I should wear it. I pulled the abomination from me, holding it at arms length. A mental image filled my mind; me, standing dressed in an outfit that would make me look about four-years-old, if that. The looks on the Kalahari's faces when they opened the door to see the rest of the Ahmeds looking... well... normal, only to then look down and see this golden-haired, porcelain doll little cherub dressed like a toddler. I couldn't do it. I couldn't put myself through that. Such humiliation was not something that I would willingly visit upon myself. Certainly not when I knew for a fact that the Kalahari's daughter, Adia, was in the same school-class as me. I got teased enough, thank you very much. I did not need to pour more gasoline upon the fire by giving some little girl I didn't even know ammunition with which to tease me when winter break ended.

"You," I said aloud to the floral abomination, "are going straight into the fucking bin, and damn what anyone has to say. Who in the world would want to wear this? Even an infant would roll its eyes skyward, would it not? Oh, son of a bitch!" With that, I threw the dress across the room. It landed, not making a sound, in a crumpled up heap, taking its place amongst the mountainous wreckage that I had just created. "Son of a bitch!" I grumbled again, stamping my bare foot against the carpet. "Son of a fucking bitch!"

The swear words, taught to me by my older brother, poured forth from my lips as easy as the ABC's. 'Son of a bitch' wasn't even the worst language that I could come up with. Yes, I know, it may seem odd to some of you that a child of eleven may use such foul, "adult" language, but I do, and always have done. Like I said, I've heard my brother swearing quite often when we were growing up, and despite not always knowing what his phrases meant, I guess I just picked up on his words and carried them forth into my own, everyday life. After all, were such statements not the perfect way to express the frustration that I currently felt?

If only I could dress like the other girls, that would make my life all that more easier. But no... my height put a stop to such things. At four-foot tall, I was, no laaf, the shortest eleven-year-old in Kabul. My height and weight were that of the average eight-year-old girl. Though, to be frank, there were probably eight-year-olds who were taller than me. Due to this, it was increasingly difficult to find clothing that fit. Any outfit meant for my actual age would have dwarfed me, leaving my parents to splurge their money on cute little dresses that were meant for children far, far younger than I. Oh, of course, they had more than enough money to have clothing custom made for me, should they desire to. But they never did.

The thought had never crossed their minds, regardless of how much of a fool my clothes made me look. Keeping me in a child's clothing, would, after all, keep me as their "child" forever. Tiny, helpless, and easy to control. At least, that was how I figured they wished to perceive me as. That was not something that I could ask them. The idea of bringing such a thing up... a shudder ran through my body at the very thought. No, such feelings were best kept to oneself, were they not? All I could do now was figure out what the lesser evils of my dresses was.

As I waxed poetic over how best not to humiliate myself, I was jolted from these lamentations by the sound of knocking on my bedroom door. Shit! Which of my parents were come to check on me? My father, come to bark his orders for me to hurry up? Or my mother, come to shake her head in disdain and mutter a reprimand in her native German, when she saw the mess that I had caused. Deciding it would be best to just get on with it, I lifted my hands and spoke; "I... Just a minute, please. I... I know I'm running late but..."

A male voice, my favorite voice to ever exist, cut across my apologies. "It's me, sister. Mahmood and Tanya are downstairs. May I come in?" Oh, how relieved I felt! It was my brother. Thank God. A smile creased its way upon my lips, as I grabbed a robe from off a nearby coat-rack and wrapped it around myself, affording both he and I some level of dignity before I answered the door. My hands fumbled with the key, before I threw the door open and greeted my brother with a huge, delighted grin.

"Assef!" I exclaimed, striding forward to wrap my arms around his waist. Assef hugged me in return, and the two of us remained locked in an embrace that I never wanted to end. Eventually, though, Assef pulled away from me, and surveyed the carnage that I had made earlier. His eyes widened, and a chortle escaped his lips.

"Damn, Liebchen, do you know the amount of damage you'd cause if you ever got your hands on an explosive?" His words gave me levity. Not only due to their light-hearted teasing, but also because of that one, special phrase. That one word that gave me true, unadulterated joy to hear from his lips. Liebchen. The nickname was but one of the testaments of the bond Assef and I shared, a bond that I held with no other human being on the planet. The German word for 'sweetheart', it was his special name for me, his and his alone.

With a shrug, I took my brother's hand and lead him to my bed, gesturing for him to sit down. He did so, and I was quick to take perch beside him, resting my head against his shoulder. "An actual explosive device would cause some mirth, if only for the violent carnage it'd bring," I mused. Assef's mouth twitched — our bonded humor always verged upon the dark and cruel. "Alas, all I seem to have done is created a mountain of silk and cotton. Still, I remain none-the-wiser as to tonight's outfit choice."

Assef pressed a kiss to the side of my head, ever so loving and supportive. "Try to at least dress somewhat... formally, little sister," he advised. It was then I took notice of the fact that he wore one of his best shirts, along with black trousers, now doubt ironed by our Hazara servant, Hamilra. Assef was lucky, he didn't need to spend hours trying to decide what to wear. Not like I did. "You know what our parents are like, and you know what this dinner means to them. Though why you and I are being forced to attend is beyond me, truly it is. Wouldn't you much rather stay home?"

"Stay home with you... versus... attend this godforsaken dinner. Is there even a need for you to ask which option I'd prefer?" I pulled away from the warmth of my brother's touch and leaned back, closing my eyes, hands behind my head. "The thought did cross my mind, you know, of refusing. Of telling them I had taken ill, and pleading for you to be permitted leave to care for me. But then..." I opened one eye and glanced lazily in Assef's direction. "You and I are, without a shadow of a doubt, keenly aware of the leather consequences that would no doubt befall me should I dare to pull off such trickery."

The mention of "leather" made Assef tense up. His eyes darkened, no doubt thinking of the many times our bastard father's leather belt had made its contact with our flesh. He clenched and unclenched his fists, closed his eyes, and breathed out a deep sigh. "This dinner won't be so bad, sister," he eventually murmured, trying to console me. "We'll get through it, I promise, and with any luck we won't ever have to see or speak to the Kalahari's again." Chance would be a fine thing, would it not? Still, I found myself smiling in response to Assef's words. My brother then reached into his trouser pocket, a mischievous grin on his face.

I watched, as he procured the item he was looking for, and held it front of me. Ah, yes. Stainless steel brass knuckles. Assef's favourite torture device. Young though I was, I had borne witness to his fearsome violence on more than one occasion. Seeing the way he expertly wielded those brass knuckles, as though they were but another extension of his own skin, I couldn't help but to admire him, each time. The other children of Kabul feared my brother and his brass knuckles. For his cruelty, his often savage intent. I, on the other hand, treasured and idolized him for it. I gazed at the weapon in my dearest brother's hand. "Assef?" The macabre excitement shone through, despite the fact that all I did was say his name.

Assef grinned. "What say you, Liebchen? Think I'd get away with bringing guests of my own for tonight's dinner?"

"Chance would be a fine thing," I responded, barely concealing my laugh. "I think Mahmood and Tanya would have a collective heart attack should you pull those out." The mental image of my twitchy, perfectionist mother, and my strict, loveless father, in stunned silence, as my brother and I wreaked havoc on the Kalahari family. Both of them would no doubt keel over, and that was only to guess at how our hosts would react. "But, Assef, the level of trouble you'd bring down for both of us if you did... Though, for the looks on their faces, how I wish you could bring them. Maybe then—"

Alas, I never got the chance to finish that sentence. As my mouth formed the next words, I was interrupted by the shrill, harpy-voice emanating from downstairs. "Assef, Saria! Where are you both? We have ten minutes before we leave for the Kalahari's. I want you both down here as soon as you can, do you understand me? Please do not bring us shame by being late." Oh, how her words made me rage with internal fury. And she wasn't done yet. "Let's go, chop chop!"

Rolling his eyes, Assef stood up, and crossed to the door. He opened it, leaned his head out, and shouted an answer to the Harpy Queen. "We'll be down in a moment, Mother," he said. His words were the epitome of politeness — the dutiful, obedient son. That was what anyone who didn't know him would have considered him to be. Only I, the one who knew him better than I knew my own mind, could tell how frustrated he was at being ordered around like some common servant. Well, that, and the fact that, as he spoke, he turned back to me and mouthed the words "stupid bitch", in reference to our mother.

Tanya must have been satisfied with his answer, for she merely responded once more with, "We'll see you downstairs promptly." I could hear her bustling around, and from the muffled voices of her and Mahmood, no doubt both of them were probably making a fuss over something or another. As they were want to do.

"You should hurry up and get yourself dressed, Sar," Assef said. "I'll see you downstairs, and then we'll get this over and done with, shall we?"

I nodded and he was quick to see himself out, closing the door behind him as he left me to my own devices. With no brother to distract me, the only thing that I could do now was to, finally, gather up my clothing and pick out a dress to wear. Ten minutes was all I had, and I needed to make quick work of my time. Throwing my robe to the floor, I settled my gaze upon a white dress, with rosebud patterns across it. One of the more formal articles of clothing that I owned, I knew it would appease Tanya's scrutinizing eye.

Ah, and on that note, you may have noticed that both Assef and I refer to our parents by their names — Mahmood and Tanya — rather than using any form of parental moniker. With the obvious exception of when we address them in person, this has been something that we did for as far back as I can recall, and I shall endeavor to continue to do so throughout these memoirs. Though Mahmood and Tanya may have conceived and birthed us, they utterly failed as parents, in every sense of the world. And I know, I know, I'm supposed to honor and respect my parents, but I see no point in honoring anyone who does not bestow the same to me.

I shan't bore you with the details of my early childhood just yet, but suffice it to say that parents as cold, distant and emotionally neglectful as mine were while I was growing up do not deserve any such love or respect. Thus from me, they shall receive not even the slightest morsel of it, except for when it is necessary for me to lie — which, for the most part, it often is. But alas, I shan't bore you with the sordid details of my tragic childhood, just yet. There is much to write about in just this entry alone, after all.

Once I had dressed, I threw the pile of clothing onto my bed. There was no need for me to clean it up, of course. It was Hamilra's job to wait upon us, as was the job of all Hazara people to wait upon their Pashtun masters. She would be spending the evening cleaning up, scrubbing and sweeping, and I was certain that she would take the initiative to clear up the mess in here. With this though in mind, I shut the door behind me and made my way downstairs.

Already, the rest of my family stood waiting for me at the front door. Before I could even descend the final step, Tanya grabbed my arm with her talons, and pulled me close. She grabbed my chin, tilting my head to the left and the right. Her bony fingers dug into my skin, making me wince. Honestly, it was so fucking embarrassing to be inspected like some toddler who wasn't capable of washing her own damn face.

But she had to make sure I looked perfect, after all. She had to be sure that not a hair was out of place, not an inch of dirt or stains upon her porcelain child. Whatever would the neighbors think if I were to have been even the tiniest bit amiss? Certainly, the sight of Saria Ahmed with one single golden hair out of place would send the whole of Afghanistan into a nationwide panic. I almost rolled my eyes at the thought. Tanya looked me up and down one more time, before standing back, and giving me the "Motherly Nod of Approval".

"You look beautiful, Saria." She smiled down at me, yet it did not match her eyes. I looked at my feet, muttering a soft, demure, "Tashakor, Mama." Tanya placed a gentle hand upon my cheek, bringing me forth to a soft embrace. Unable to get away, I leaned in close, wrapping my arms around her. This was, of course, yet another manipulation tactic on the part of both this woman and myself. Both pretending to love one another — but both, mayhap, knowing that our actions were but a lie. Her embrace was a warning: be obedient, be the perfect daughter, or you shall fall from my favor.

Once she'd had her fill of our embrace, Tanya stepped away and began to fix up her own outfit. It was only then that I got the chance to look at what she was wearing. What had the perfectionist decided to wear today? She was dressed to the nines as usual - flowing blue dress, hair pinned into a neat bun, her lips painted with the slightest hint of rogue. My father wore his best grey suit — part of me wondered how much of an argument went on for Tanya to have convinced him to put that on. My lips twitched ever-so-slightly.

"Mahmood," Tanya focused her attention on my father now, "Mahmood, do you have the flowers and wine, darling?" She glanced at the clock, tapping her foot against the hardwood floor. I stepped out of her way and moved so that I was next to Assef again. Tanya continued on, "Come and help me put them in the car. We need to get going. Assef, Saria, into the back seat, both of you." She paused, turning to face us once more. "I'll assume you've both brushed your teeth?"

Didn't realize I was supposed to, I thought, holding my tongue on that sarcastic response. I was saved from answering, and from Tanya noticing my eye-roll, by Assef. "Of course, Mother." He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and drew me in close to him. "Come along, sister." With that, he led me outside, and over to the car. It was silver in color — the make and model I am unsure of — and yet another piece of evidence as to how rich the Ahmed family was. It was also, rather humorously, often the shitting ground for tonnes of birds.

Assef opened the back door, and stepped back to allow me to get in. Smiling, I whispered a soft, genuine, "thank you," and clamored my way into the back seat, focusing on doing up my seat-belt as my brother got in beside me and did the same. He glanced behind him, and, upon noticing that Mahmood and Tanya were, as of yet, still in the house, turned back to address me. "So, Liebchen, I hear the Kalahari's have a daughter about your age. Ever seen or spoken to her?"

"Adia." The word fell like bile from my lips. "That's her name. She's a few months younger than me, I think. I've never had the misfortune to actually engage her in conversation, but I've heard and seen her in class all the time. Always wanting to help Mullah Fahsir Khan with this or that. Such a fucking kiss-ass, brother, I swear. You can bet she'll be just as bad tonight. Oh, you have no idea how happy I am that you'll be with me. At least I'll have one person with sense and sanity on my side."

Assef laughed; one of my favorite sounds. "You know I'd never leave you hanging, sister," he responded, taking my little hand in his. "Besides, I'd like to see the measure of this Adia girl for myself. Mahmood and Tanya will be pushing you to befriend her, and, well, as your big brother, it's my solemn duty to vet any new friends that you may make. Ensure they're worthy of you. Or... I suppose.. that they're the types who will be obedient to you."

Obedience. It was something that Assef and I both strived for in any outside relationship. While we treated each other as equals, with a reverence that no other could hope to match, any friends, or acquaintances of ours were carefully scrutinized to ensure their unwavering loyalty. That was a more pressing point for my brother, who, at sixteen, had already made quite the name for himself among the streets of Kabul. The children in the Wazir-Akbhar-Khan district lived in terror of Assef, and the damage he and those brass knuckles of his could cause. Hence, he'd needed to choose his entourage carefully — eventually settling on two boys about his age, Wali and Kamal. Loyal as dogs, and so desperate for validation that they'd go along with whatever schemes my brother would cook up.

I was about to say something else, when the back door opened again. "Saria, darling, will you hold these for Papa?" Mahmood asked. Before I had the chance to answer, he shoved a bouquet of flowers and a large bottle of red wine onto my lap. I blinked, tilting my head to the side. Mahmood leaned in and patted me on the head, as though I were a fucking pet. "That's my girl." He looked at my brother and I, and his countenance became sterner. Great. Lecture time.

"Assef, Saria, this dinner is of the utmost importance to your mother and I. We both expect you to be on your best behavior whilst at the Kalahari house. Show Javid and Faraya the respect that they, as your elders, deserve, and do not do anything that may bring shame upon this family. Your mother and I not be lenient towards any single misstep, from either one of you. This is far, far too important. Do you understand?"

Fixing him with the politest, most obedient smile that I could muster, I replied, "yes, Papa, I understand. We'll be on our best behavior, I promise you that. You won't have to worry one bit, isn't that right, big brother?" Beside me, I could tell that Assef was showing the same manipulative, polite smile that I was. He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Yes, Father, we understand what this dinner means to you. Trust us, you won't have to worry about a thing, I promise." All he wanted was to get Mahmood off of our back, and with good reason! Do you think we needed to be scolded and bossed around before the car had even reversed out of the driveway? Yeah, no, thought not! This was the last thing that we fucking needed! The absolute, last thing!

Mahmood nodded. By this time, Tanya had made her way out of the house, and, after locking up, walked briskly to the car. She got into the passenger seat, buckled herself in, and turned to face Assef and I. A piercing stare from her blue eyes, eyes that my brother and I both shared, having taken our half-German heritage from her. She gave Mahmood the "side-eye", no doubt silently asking him if he'd given us the lecture on how to behave tonight. Finally, after what seemed like ages, but was really only a split second or two, Mahmood got into the car, and began to reverse it down the drive.

As with all car rides with my family, this one was filled to the brim with tension. You would think that the treat of going to visit a family "friend" would be one that would have us laughing, smiling, joking together. But no. I knew Mahmood and Tanya were far, far too focused on the importance of this get-together. Assef and I were both, equally united, in our desire to be somewhere, anywhere else. Finally, Assef took the initiative to speak, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"How long will it take for us to get there, Father?" he asked, casually drumming a finger against the car's leather interior. "The Kalahari's live fairly close to us, don't they?"

Mahmood nodded. "Javid lives about four or five streets down from us, Assef," he said, turning a corner. I glanced out the window, noticing the streets as we passed. "They have a son that's about your age, don't they? I think his name is Masood. Is he in any of your school classes?" His attempts to make conversation were so totally, utterly pathetic. How sorry I felt for my poor, dear brother, having to engage with that.

Assef shrugged. "They have, I think. Pretty sure his name is Masood. But he's a few years younger than I am, so we're not in the same classes. I've never really spoken to him, if I'm honest."

"Well, perhaps you can get to know him a bit better tonight," Tanya mused, before turning her focus on me. Of course. Neither of our parents ever really wanted much to do with Assef. In retrospect, I think they may have been shamed by, or intimidated, by him. Which wasn't at all hard to see why. Assef could be frightening — were I anyone else, I too may have been frightened by him. But alas, he was my kindred spirit. Whatever love we did not show to the rest of the world, we bestowed with great compassion towards each other.

Tanya's voice was sugar-sweet as she addressed me. "Well, the Kalahari's daughter is your age, isn't she, Saria?"

I nodded, still staring out the window. "Yes, Mama. Well... she's about ten, but we are in the same class."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Tanya gushed, as if this were the best piece of news that she had ever heard in her life. She turned and reached for me, placing a hand on my knee, the only part of me she could reach, what with me holding the flowers and all. "Maybe you and little Adia could become friends, would you like that, darling? Your father and I are always saying that you need to make more friends."

I'd rather not, I thought, irate as I always was when Tanya patronized me. I don't need friends. I'm more than content with only having my brother for company, and I'd appreciate if you'd just leave me the fuck alone and stop trying to force your own image of the perfect childhood onto me. Just leave me alone, for the love of all that is good and holy, just leave me the hell alone!

I looked down, the image of gentle anxiety. Fumbling with the string that held together the flowers in my lap, I murmured a soft, "O-Oh, I don't know about that, Mama. Adia must have so many friends already, I'm not so sure that she'd want to be friends with me." This, of course, was but a way to get her to sympathize with me. In reality, the chance to even be offered my friendship was something that Adia was, I believed, far too unworthy for. I looked up, and met my mother's gaze. "But I do hope that she likes me, I really do."

"Who wouldn't like you, sweetheart? Who wouldn't want to be your friend?" Those words did not come from my brother, as you may think. Instead, they came from Mahmood, who, while he may have intended to come across as well-intentioned with his compliment, had no idea of the internal fury he had just imparted into his daughter's mind. Calling me 'sweetheart', hearing my Assef's precious nickname for me being besmirched by unworthy lips, it was enough to make my blood pressure skyrocket. How I yearned to scream my utter abhorrence for his disgusting actions, right in his face. Were it not for the fact that I would put myself in the height of trouble, I may have lost my temper then and there.

All I could do was continue to shyly nod, chewing on the inside of my lower lip. "I... I guess so." With those words, I intended to make it clear that I no longer wished to take part in this conversation. I was not in the right frame of mind to chat it up about my friends, making friends, or lack thereof. All I could do was hope that they would take the hint, and I'd be able to endure the rest of this car ride, and the ensuing dinner, without too much hassle or fuss.

Finally, after two more minutes or so, spent in terse silence, Mahmood pulled up into a driveway. "Well, here we are," he said, parking the car. He turned to face my brother and I. "Remember, best behavior," he ordered, for what was, I'm sure, the ten-thousandth time. Assef and I nodded, like obedient robots. Mahmood got out of the car, and went around the back to open my door — extending his hand to help me out. I gave him a demure smile, and stepped out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face. As my father leaned around me to close the door, and my brother got out of the car on his side, I glanced up at the house we would be dining in tonight.

It was a two-story home, with a red door. Large, of course, the Kalahari family were, of course, a well-off family here. The Ahmeds spending time with anyone who wasn't at least some bit rich was out of the question. Still, as I craned my head to look up at the window, I was keenly aware that we were, no doubt, richer than they were. They didn't have a gated compound, for one thing. Good, I thought to myself, lips curling in the slightest hint of a smirk, the apprehension of meeting young Adia slowly beginning to dissipate, I already have one up on the little bitch.

Mahmood walked up to the door, with the rest of us following in tow. He knocked once, twice, three times, before standing back and waiting. A few moments passed, with utter, terse silence between us, before I noticed a shadow on the other side, fiddling with the lock. They were met by a second shadow. The first shadow, male, I believe, finally got the latch to work, and opened the door. There, standing before us, was a tall, dark-haired man, and a somewhat shorter, brunette woman. The man looked at my father, and gave a hearty laugh. This must have been Javid and Faraya.

"Salaam, Mahmood jan," Javid said. He had a booming voice, the kind that was deafening even in a normal volume. "So nice of you to come." He gestured to the woman stood beside him. "Allow me to introduce my wife, the lovely Faraya. You have her to thank for tonight's cooking."

Ah, Faraya. If I end up getting food poisoning tonight, then I know who to blame. The corners of my lips twitched up, the most amusement that I could display at my internal snark. Javid took his attention from Mahmood, focusing it now on Tanya, Assef and I. "And I see you've brought the family with you. How lovely, we've always been wanting to meet them."

"Full house tonight, Javid jan," Mahmood replied, laughing and clapping Javid on the shoulder. He stood back, beckoning Assef and I to step forward. We did so, my brother reaching down to take my hand. Tanya cleared her throat, smile plastered to her face. Mahmood glanced at her. "You know my wife, Tanya, of course. And this..." He placed a hand on Assef's shoulder, as though showing him off to the world. "This is our son, Assef. Our eldest."

Javid reached out a hand for Assef to shake, which he did. "It's lovely to meet you, Assef jan."

"Likewise, Javid agha," Assef responded, "and you too, Faraya khanom." He'd used the polite form of address for adults, as we both knew our parents would have been expecting us to. It was, I knew, the very last thing he wanted to do, but what choice did we have? Assef placed hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me forward. Wanting to get my introduction out of the way. "And this, this is—"

But before he could get a word in edge-ways, Mahmood stepped up to the plate. He took my hand, pulled me forward, and placed both his hands on my shoulders as he faced me to Javid and Faraya. "This is our youngest, Saria. Our baby girl." Our baby girl?! Damn, was he trying to make my blood boil? The way he said it, you would have thought he was introducing a six-month-old infant. And from the look on Faraya's face, I almost expected the woman to start cooing and gushing over me in the same way that one would to a baby.

I bowed my knees, inclining my head slightly. My hair fell over my face. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Javid agha and Faraya khanom." My words were dripping in honeyed falsehood, the innocence of a child. "Thank you kindly for inviting my family and I to your home tonight." Behind me, Tanya made a noise of approval. Good. Things were starting off in smooth sailing. I could do this.

"Oh, it's so lovely to meet you too, Saria jan," Faraya gushed, while Javid stood back and permitted us access to their home. What did I tell you? Gushing over me already. She placed a hand on my back, cupping my cheek, as she looked down at me with fondness in her eyes. "You're in the same class as our little girl, aren't you?" Before I could even speak a word, she continued. "But... forgive me for saying this... you look a lot younger than she is." She addressed my parents, as if I couldn't speak for myself. "How old is she again, Mahmood, Tanya jan? Eight?"

Eight? You patronizing bitch, how dare you? I'll rip your throat out! I thought, fury burning its way up my throat, burning, aching, as I struggled not to let it out. To not let my rage boil over, as it was sometimes known to do. Yes, I know that I'm tiny for my age. Did they need to rub it in? And wouldn't Mahmood and Tanya have already told them how old I was? They certainly didn't need to ask the same question about Assef, did they? Were they trying to mock me? No, I would not stand for this.

As Tanya opened her mouth to speak on my behalf, I cut across her, with my most sugary voice. "I am eleven-years-old, Faraya khanom," I told her. By now, we'd all entered the house. Faraya's eyes widened, and she went to make a comment that would no doubt annoy the piss out of me, but we were saved from that happening, by the appearance of their daughter.

A ten-year-old girl with dark hair, both in lopsided pigtails, came bounding down the stairs. She was about a head taller than I was, for fuck sake! She skipped up to us, beaming. "Hi!" she chirped, "It's so lovely to meet you all, thank you so much for coming." They were words that I could tell her parents had told her to say. Surely, surely, no child could be that much of a kiss ass. Right? Fuck, I had only spent two seconds in the company of this girl, and already she was annoying me. How in the world was I meant to survive a full night of this?

She pushed past everyone else, and reached for me, taking my hands in hers. "You must be Saria," she said, almost bouncing on her heels, "I'm Adia. You and I are in class together. I see you all the time, but I've never gotten the chance to say hi. So, hi! It's really nice to meet you, finally!" Yeah, as if I could say the same for her. I glanced back at Assef, and we both shared a look of 'is she for real?'.

"Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes," said Faraya. She turned to address her daughter. "Adia, why don't you take Saria jan upstairs, so the two of you can play together in your room while you wait. Maybe a game with those marbles we bought you?" When Adia nodded, Faraya turned her focus to my brother. "Assef jan, why don't you go and join the men for a game of cards?"

"Ah, and speaking of men," Tanya cut in, "will your son be joining us for dinner tonight?"

A strange expression passed over Faraya's face. She cleared her throat, unable to answer for a nanosecond, before she spoke again. "Oh, uh... uhm... no. No, unfortunately. Masood isn't feeling too well tonight, so he's going to stay in his room. I'll save him a plate, though, if he's up for eating later. I'm sorry, really, he was looking forward to meeting you all, but..." She trailed off.

I wanted to ask what, exactly, was wrong with Masood. 'Sick' was not a good enough explanation in my eyes. Or maybe I just took pleasure in learning about the suffering of others. But before I could say a word, I was interrupted — or saved, perhaps; who knows what Mahmood and Tanya might have done if I were to speak such rude words? — by Adia. She took my hand and began to drag me up the stairs. "Come on, Saria. Let's go play!"

She lead me up the stairs, bounding two at at time. She continued to talk excitedly, as we made our way to her room. "You know, I'm really happy that you're here, Saria. I was so excited when my mommy told me you'd be coming to visit." Yeah, can't say I felt the same, now, could I? "I see you in school all the time, like I said. And I... I've always been meaning to ask you to come and play with me during break times but... uh... I guess I never got the chance too. I'm glad we can play now, though."

As we reached her room, Adia pushed open the door and stepped back, politely allowing me entrance. How very polite of her. I walked in, making sure to place my hand on the door to hold it open for my new "friend". Her room was typical for what you'd expect for a ten-year-old — toys, clothes, and dolls strewn about, the bed unmade, sheets of paper from what I assumed was schoolwork lying haphazardly across a small writing desk. I turned my nose up at it. Did she even bother to clean this pigsty? Surely, having known that she would have guests round, she could have made even the slightest, the tiniest bit of effort to clean up after herself? I for sure would not have been permitted to get away with leaving my room in such a state, had our situations been reversed. Not that I would have wanted to, anyway.

"You can, uh, sit down, if you want." Adia gestured to the bed, which I gingerly sat upon. Adia rocked on her heels, giving me a toothy grin. "Do you wanna see my toys?" she asked. "My parents bought me new marbles, maybe we can play with them. Or... uh... do you like dolls? I bought a new outfit for my doll and I've never put it on her yet. Wanna do it together?"

"Sounds like fun!" I beamed, smile sticking to my face like glue. Of course she thought I wanted to play with her doll. I looked just like one myself, after all. The living, breathing embodiment of a dream. Adia dropped to her knees and began to fumble around under the bed. A look of concentration on her face. As she searched, I found myself on the receiving end of yet another incessant question. This one, however, was one that I was more than willing to answer, and to be utterly truthful about.

Adia glanced up at me. "Saria, uh... the boy with you tonight, uh, Assef, was it? Is he your brother?"

"Yes."

By now, Adia had found her doll, as well as the corresponding outfit for it, and placed it on the bed, which she sat upon alongside me. I picked the toy up, turning it over and over in my hands. It was certainly pretty, with dark pigtails done in much the same way Adia's own hair was. She'd obviously worked hard on making her new doll into her little mini-me, of that there was no doubt. Adia glanced from the doll, to me. "Are you close?"

I arched a brow. "Huh?"

"Are you close to your brother?"

"Yes. He means more to me than anyone else in the world. He's my best friend." No truer words had ever been spoken.

A strange look passed over Adia's face for a moment. She thumbed the ends of her doll's pigtails. "Assef's in the same school as Masood, actually." Pretty much a given, really, considering most children in the Wazir-Akbhar-Khan district ended up attending the same schools. Those of us who were Pashtun, at least. The Hazara people weren't permitted to learn in the same way that we were. "But my brother's a few grades behind yours, so I don't think they know each other."

From the way that she said those words, and the look she was giving me, part of me had to wonder if Adia and her brother were aware of the reputation that my Assef had garnered for himself. It wasn't too much of a stretch to guess that, perhaps, Masood had seen someone be on the other end of Assef's brass knuckles. And if he had, then would he not have forewarned his sister about it? Part of me wondered if her shyness towards me in class had anything to do with fearing my brother — and, on that note, if her eagerness to be so kind to me right now was because she was so anxious about being in the same house as him.

Speaking of Masood, I decided to reciprocate her question in kind. And to see if I couldn't get some answers on what none of the grown ups were telling us. "Uh, are you and your brother close? I... I know your mother said he's sick... which is too bad, cause I was looking forward to meeting him."

Adia cast her eyes downwards. She focused solely on the doll, not even looking me in the eye as she spoke. "Yeah, we get along really well. But, uh... Masood caught the flu about two days ago, and, so, he won't be able to come for dinner with us. I'm sorry, I know he was looking forward to tonight. We don't have guests over that often so it hurts him to be missing out. But mommy and daddy say that it's best for him to sit this one out."

Yeah, I thought, that might be the wisest decision. I really don't want either myself or Assef catching whatever disgusting germs your brother has.

The conversation shifted back to its happier tone after that. Adia continued to drone on and on, about school, about her doll, about how she really wanted us to be friends. She kept on and on about how she wanted me to come visit more often. I didn't respond in kind. Simply nodded along, keeping the smile, but not behaving in an overly friendly manor towards the girl. Couldn't have her think that there was truly any chance of us becoming friends, could I?

Luckily, I was saved from any further discussion with this bubbly child by Faraya calling for us up the stairs. "Adia, Saria, dinner is ready. Please wash up and come downstairs."

Adia was on her feet in an instant. "We'll be right down, Mommy!" She began skipping her way to the door, then turned back to face me. "The bathroom is down the hall and to the left, so you can wash up before we eat." With that, she was gone, and I was left to follow after her, and to wonder, in the back of my mind, what this upcoming dinner would bring.

Once we had washed up, Adia and I walked down the stairs, and into the dining room. I took note of how spick-and-span everything was. The tablecloth, the plates, the cutlery. Everything was sparkling clean. The sheer amount of effort that must have gone into making this dinner look utterly perfect. Javid and Faraya must have really wanted to impress us. Well, to impress my parents, should I say?

"Please, sit down," Faraya said, gesturing to the empty places around the table. I glanced at Assef, and the two of us made to go and sit beside on another, but Faraya, the dumb bitch, put a stop to that before we even had the chance to move. "Saria, would you sit next to Adia, please?"

Oh, how manipulative! How very cruel of her, to not even give me the choice in where I was going to sit. And what could I do about it, really? Surely, if I were to voice my concerns, then I would be in for it back home. To speak against an adult would be rude, and, well, rudeness was the one thing that Mahmood and Tanya would not tolerate from me. I flashed my most charming grin. "Of course, Faraya khanom." With that said, and a sympathetic glance passed between my Assef and I, I took my place next to Adia, the younger girl clearly enamored by sitting next to who she believed would be her future "best friend".

Other than my frustration at the seating arrangements, dinner really went off without a hitch. We chatted, we laughed, we ate some delicious food. Most of the conversation took place between the adults, anyway, leaving me to simply eat in peace, only chiming in with a sweet remark here and there, and laughing along in all the right places. The Kalahari family were truly starting to warm up to me, but that was no big surprise. I'm a very, very likable child, when I want to be. Now, this may be where you think I leave this piece of writing. If this story were to have a happy ending, then it may as well have a happy beginning.

But alas, my story has no such thing. And therefore, I must now tell you of the moment that everything came crashing down. Literally.

Dinner was winding down, everyone had had their fill. Pushing his chair back, Javid stood. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I could certainly go for some fresh air after all that food. Why don't we head out to the garden." He grinned at my father. "We can chat some more about that business venture of ours while our little girls have some fun playing outside."

"Sounds like a good idea, Javid jan," Mahmood responded. To him, it may have, but I certainly had no interest in spending even one more minute with these people. Still, I told myself that this wouldn't take long. An extra hour or half-an-hour in the company of these people certainly wasn't going to kill me, and in any case, I needed to keep up appearance. And so it was that we all began trekking our way to the garden. It was just as I reached the back door, that it happened.

I was just about to reach the door, when I stumbled. There was a slight dent in the flooring, and I, not being aware of this, tripped and staggered forward. Assef reached out a hand to catch my arm, but he was too late, and my hip bumped into a small table. As it did so, the table wobbled, and down came an expensive vase that had been resting upon it. I hurried to catch it, but was unable to, and the vase hit the ground, smashing into a million tiny pieces.

"O-Oh!" I gasped, taking a step back. I covered my mouth with my hands. "I... I'm so sorry!"

Faraya stared down at the vase, her breathing ragged. She took one step, then two steps, forward, almost brushing me to the side as she dropped down to her knees. "I... I... I..." She whispered, picking up the broken pieces and letting out a broken cry. I just stood there, numb, staring down at her. What did I say, what did I do? Why in the hell was she reacting like I had just stabbed her in the heart?

"I'm sorry," I whispered again, "it was an accident, I didn't mean to."

Walking towards her mother, Adia knelt down beside her, and wrapped her tiny arms around Faraya's shoulder. She rested her head against her mother's rubbing her back. "It's okay, Mommy, please don't cry."

Faraya kissed her daughter's head, and turned to me. Her glare was almost frightening. "That... that was a gift from my father," she choked out through rapidly falling tears. "He... he made that himself, it's one of a kind. It... he passed away last year." She clutched more of the pieces to her chest. "This can't be replaced."

Oh, so that was why she was so upset. I must admit, I felt nothing for Faraya. Perhaps I should have been wracked with guilt over my mistake, but I just couldn't bring myself to care. But then I caught sight of the menacing glare that Mahmood was giving me, and a cold shiver ran up my spine. I instantly dashed over to my brother, hiding behind him, as if hoping for his protection. Assef wrapped his arm around my shoulder, cuddling me in close.

Tanya was incessant, apologizing over and over, wringing her hands. Javid hadn't said a word, but I could feel his gaze on me. I kept clinging to Assef, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me whole. Why in the world did I have to stumble like that? Now, I knew, I would surely be in for the lecture of a lifetime. Mahmood took charge. "I think it would be best if we went home now. I am so, so sorry for this. I really am. I can't express my shame enough. Faraya jan, please accept my most deepest apologies for my daughter's clumsy behavior."

Faraya didn't say a word. Tanya pulled me away from Assef, talons burning against my flesh. "Let's get going, young lady," she said, and began frogmarching me towards the door. She turned to face my brother, and her countenance became softer, yet remained harsh. "Son, come along, please. We need to go home."

Saying nothing, Assef followed along behind my parents and I as we walked, or rather, as I was half-dragged, to car. We drove home, the entire ride being filled with a tense silence. As I said, I knew that I was in for a stern talking to. But then... I figured that I could just cry, and say I was sorry, and everything would be fine once more. Oh, how wrong I was!

The moment we got back home, Mahmood ordered me up the stairs. "Into your room, young lady, right now!" he barked, pointing up the stairs. I trudged up obediently, head hung, the picture of remorse. Within moments, the entire family had congregated within my room — thankfully cleaned from its previous mess by Hamilra. Mahmood took off his belt. "Prepare yourself, daughter."

I gaped at him, eyes wide in horror. No, surely not! Was he expecting to... to whip me... for this mistake? For this simple accident. No, no, this wasn't right. I staggered back, shaking my head, in terror. "Papa... please..."

Assef jumped in to defend me. "Father, no, what are you doing? It was an accident, you saw with your own eyes. She didn't mean to do it."

But Mahmood remained adamant, gesturing with one finger in my brother's face. "An accident? Assef, Saria's foolishness could have cost me a business venture that I've been working on for months. All because of her STUPIDITY! And she has brought shame upon us, which I plan to deal with in the proper manner. Now, you can either stay quiet and we will get this unpleasant business over and done with, or you can keep running your mouth, young man, and just see how much worse that makes things for your sister. What's it to be, my son?"

His words were a thinly veiled threat. Should Assef continue to speak out in my defense, then surely, Mahmood and Tanya would find a way to punish me for that, too. They may not have been able to do too much with him there, but he couldn't be expected to keep me by his side forever, and they were crafty. They would find a way. With this in mind, my brother gingerly sat on my bed, shaking his head apologetically at me.

"I won't ask you again, Saria Adelah," Mahmood barked. "Get your dress up, and lean over the bed so you can take your due punishment." Ah, and there it was. The middle name. The realization that I was truly, truly in for it now. I could say nothing in my own defense. With shaking hands, I leaned down over the bed. Tanya instantly walked around behind me, lifting my skirt and tucking it into the waist band of my panties. Assef took my hands in his and held them, the only real comfort that he could offer to me in this moment.

Mahmood stepped behind me, and raised the belt. It whistled down. Smack! I shrieked as it made contact with my flesh. Each hit felt like a sting from a burning hornets nest. All I could do was sob, and sob. Clutching my brother's hands like he was my lifeline. My feet drummed against the carpet, and I struggled so much to keep it together. I wouldn't beg, I would not give him the satisfaction of pleading for it to stop. But oh, how difficult it was to keep my composure to such a degree. Mahmood was really laying into me, whipping me until all I could think of was the awful pain my poor, defenseless body was forced to endure.

He must have given me ten, fifteen lashes. I had no clue, but he could use that belt so effectively that it would seem like a hundred thousand. My hatred for my parents burned ever more fiercely with each lash I received. How dare they? How dare Mahmood beat me for a mistake, and how dare Tanya just stand there and do nothing? Did she feel nothing? Had she no compassion for her only daughter's pain?

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, my punishment was over. Mahmood stood back, looping his belt back into his trousers. He looked down at me, menacingly. "Sit up." As I did so, he continued his lecture. "That had better be a lesson to you, Saria. Your mother and I will not tolerate any form of insolence from you. Now, you will be writing an apology letter to the Kalahari family, where you will express your deepest regret. I expect it to be done in your best penmanship, and if I find even the slightest flaw, you and I will be continuing the discussion we just had." He tapped his belt. "Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yes, Papa. I... I understand. I won't let you down again, I promise."

Tanya, eventually, took notice of the tears on my face. She knelt down beside me. "It's okay now, my baby, your punishment is over. You took it so well, so well, like the good girl you are. Come and give Mommy a hug." She placed a hand on my shoulder, but I flinched away from her. There was only one person in that room that I wanted, and I made my needs abundantly clear.

"A... Assef..." I whimpered, holding my arms out. Assef gingerly lifted me into his arms, cradling me on his lap as he whispered soft, soothing words into my ear. Mahmood and Tanya exchanged a glance, then left, perhaps deciding it best to not broach the subject any further. Assef continued to hold me close, rocking me and trying to stop my sobs.

"It's okay, Liebchen," he whispered in my ear, "it's okay now. You're fine, it's all over. They've gone, they won't hurt you again. I promise. Just... just calm down now, alright? Deep breaths, that's it, Saria. In and out." Slowly, as I began to follow his mantra, my breathing went back to normal.

I pulled away from my brother and looked up at him. "Will you... will you stay? Please? At least... I don't think I can fall asleep without you tonight."

He nodded. "Of course, sister. Go ahead and get your nightgown on, and I'll be here when you get back."

I made my way to the bathroom to change, which was a bit of a difficulty, given the pain that still burned my rear end. Once I was done, I walked back to my brother and climbed into bed. Assef sat beside me, wrapping an arm around me. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You know, sister, that Adia girl should done more to help you tonight. That entire family have made an enemy of us, and I promise, if you ever feel the need to make payment against them, then I'll help you. I promise, you will have whatever retribution you seek against them."

"Alright, Assef. I love you," I muttered drowsily. Then, I looked up at him and whispered, "from the moon to all the stars."

"I love you from the moon to the end of the universe."

"I love you more," I whispered.

"Not possible,'' Assef chuckled, and kissed the top of my head. Childish for us to have this little ritual, I know, but my brother just brought out that side of me. And, I had to admit, I kind of liked it. It gave me the security I so desperately needed right then.

As I drifted to sleep in my brother's warm, comforting arms, I indulged myself in the knowledge, that I would have, as he promised, the retribution that was due to me. Those who had dared to visit this pain upon me would pay for their transgressions, and that, I knew, would lead me to some very sweet dreams indeed.


Thank you again to all who have read thus far! The next chapter should be along soon and will deal with more of the fallout from this one, and start sowing the seeds for Saria's future relationship with Adia. I hope to have it written within two to three weeks, fingers crossed. Wishing you all the very best!