Author's Note: In the last chapter, Saria delivered her apology letter to the Kalahari family. She managed to win them over with her charm and poise, and even began an attempt to manipulate their young daughter, Adia. Now, a few days have passed and Saria finds herself bearing witness to just how cruel her brother can be when it comes to defending his beloved sister's welfare.

Thank you to everyone who has read this story so far. It truly does mean the world to me. A fair warning ahead of time that this chapter deals with a rather violent incident that is mentioned in the book. It's the part that details a certain nickname Assef has acquired for himself in the book. Of course, this will be going into more detail on that scene.

Once again, I don't condone the actions, thoughts, behaviours and feelings displayed by the characters in this story, and do not share the beliefs and feelings held by Saria. This is merely a work of fiction; so please keep that in mind.

I own none of the characters, places, plot events and other such plot points that come from The Kite Runner. Those are the property of Khaled Hosseini. I'm just sharing my love for them with this story. I do, however, own the OCs and original plot points not found in the original novel.

Thank you all again! I dedicate this story to all of the very, very special people in my life and to those who believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. You know who you are, and you will always have a special place in my heart.


There are some days in my life that I remember much more vividly than others. Days that are, I guess you could say, completely engraved in my mind. Seared into my memory — no matter what I do or say, I cannot forget them. Some of those days I wish that I could forget. But others, well... others are days that give me a sense of hope. Days that I find myself holding on tight to, in this strange and foreign land, where everything is so different than what my life once was. These are the memories that warm my heart. And this day, that I am going to write about, contains one such memory.

It is the day that I realized just how far my brother would go to protect me, how much defending my honor means to Assef. And... from my point of view, it was also the day that I understood what excitement true violence could give me, and just how easy it is for me to switch off and completely desensitize myself from even the most horrific acts. How even the most gruesome of acts could provide a brilliant adrenaline rush.

I lay back on my bed, casually thumbing through the pages of an old poetry book that Tanya had bought for me on my ninth birthday. The pages were yellowing, and stained from smudges of my fingerprints, but the ink was still legible and that was all that mattered, I supposed. I held the book above my head as I flicked through the pages, sometimes stopping every so often when I found a poem that caught my attention. Which... none of them really did, but things had been quiet lately and this was, in a way, my attempt to stimulate my brain lest I go absolutely stir-crazy.

A few days had passed since the incident with the Kalahari's. I was right when I said that Mahmood and Tanya would forgive me when that family did. The very next morning, Tanya had hugged me close to her, smiling down at me as she praised me for being such a good and obedient girl. She told me that she was proud of me for taking my punishment with such maturity, and Mahmood said that he thought I brought great pride and happiness to the family by standing up and admitting my mistake. I'd thanked them, and then... the matter was dropped. No more needed to be said.

No more could be said. They knew, as well as I, that this forgiveness dangled on a thin thread. Forgiveness from my parents was never true forgiveness; it was a forgiveness that would be tinged with shame, a forgiveness that gave them licence to bring this event up time and again to mock me, but gave me no leverage with which to ever defend myself. It was their ammunition to use against me whenever they should feel the need.

But now, at least, on this day, I could find some semblance of peace. Mahmood and Tanya had gone away for the weekend. Where, I was not sure; Mahmood's airline business meant that he and Tanya would travel often throughout the years. Where, I didn't know, and nor did I care. I stopped giving much of a shit about that. Oh, I'm sure that he had told me where they were going, but I'd drowned out that part of the conversation. Where they were didn't matter. What did matter was the fact that a) they were gone, and b) that meant I got to spend an either weekend with my brother.

I thumbed through about four or five more pages of my book, often skipping over the poems written there. They varied from poems that one could tell were written by a literary scholar, to those that looked as though said scholar had gotten bored, handed the page to their six-year-old child and said, "Here, write something." Those poems made me roll my eyes. Flicking through another few pages, I came across a poem that caught my eye, and actually made me stop to take another look.

It was a short poem, only a few lines long. Nothing much to be spoken about, but the contents of it... talking about a flower and its beauty, its gentleness... well, for some reason, reading it, I found myself thinking about Adia. Not that this was difficult, I'd been thinking about that girl quite a lot. Despite the fact that time had passed since last we spoke, she had wormed her way into the forefront of my mind. She was... she was an absolutely fascinating specimen, in my point of view.

So pure, so good. Adia was the embodiment of purity and gentleness; a sweet, happy, bubbly and fun-loving little girl that knew nothing but kindness and light in her life. The type of child who was the truth of the innocent facade that I sought to put forth to the world on a daily basis. Honestly? It still surprised me that I was able to charm her as easily as I did. I thought that it'd take a lot more convincing, a lot more work on my part. But no... she'd just bitten the bullet and jumped right in, not even acknowledging or caring that she was swimming around in shark infested waters.

I loved the power that she gave me. That feeling of untested control against another human being. It was almost as though she were a weird sort of... science experiment, to me. I wanted to see just how easy it would be to truly mold her. What tactics would work on her, and what wouldn't. How much give and take would be needed to ensure that all of her flaws were managed and she became as I desired her to be.

All the same, I found myself curiously wondering what could lead Adia to be so trusting and kind? What could lead her to show so much openness and caring towards someone that she barely even knew? From the moment that we met, she was so eager to be my friend. Eager to share her toys, to talk to me, to play with me. Eager to have my approval. I could see that in her eyes, the eagerness to please. Why would she feel this way towards me? Was it loneliness?

Was she truly that starved for compassion? She'd admitted to not having many school-chums, so perhaps she found a kinship with me for that reason. Lonely children gravitated towards other children that they perceived as being lonely, after all. Outcasts sought out others who they believed were outcasts. Freaks sought out protection and kindness from all corners of the playground, and Adia's nature was the epitome of freakishness to me. I just... couldn't comprehend clinging to someone I'd just met. But then again, I had only ever truly connected to Assef.

Speaking of Assef, my brother appeared in the doorway. He stood, arms crossed over his chest, smiling. "There you are, Liebchen. I was wondering where you'd gone off to," he said. I looked up at him, a wide smile making its way onto my face. Sitting up from my place on the bed, I gestured for my brother to come and sit down with me. I always wanted closeness with him. Assef walked into the room, crossed to the bed, and sat down next to me.

He looked down at the book that I was reading, and clicked his tongue. "Hmm. I didn't think you were all that interested in poetry, Sar," he said. "And especially for a book bought when you were a child." Assef jabbed a finger at the page I'd left laying open. The poem that reminded me of Adia, though I didn't tell my brother such. I closed the book and pushed it to one side on the bed, then rolled onto my side, my upper half curled up onto Assef's lap.

"I don't, really," I said, closing my eyes as my brother ran his fingers through my hair. "They're shit, for the most part. But that said, they do help to alleviate the boredom, if even in the smallest of ways. Just... just having something to do."

Assef chuckled. "Well..." he began, dragging the word out for emphasis. "If you're that bored, Liebchen..." He paused. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, furrowing my brow in curiosity. I took his hand in mine and casually looped our fingers together. He looked at me, and smiled. "I do know another way to keep your mind occupied."

And now he'd really grabbed my attention. His vagueness was keeping me on tenterhooks, and I wanted to know more. I was eager to know more. Lifting my self up on an elbow, I looked at Assef, tilting my head to one side. "Well, come on, Assef. Don't keep me in the dark here. You've got something? What is it?"

My brother gently moved himself away from the bed and stood up. I sat up, too, running a hand through my curls and looking up at my brother, eager to see what he'd procure. He reached for something in his coat pocket, and I registered then, that he'd been wearing it since he first walked into the room. What could he be looking for? His brass knuckles? No, he kept those in the pockets of his jeans. But then... what? I waited, impatiently, for my answer.

Assef finally procured a tied, cloth bag from his pocket. He grinned, and dangled the bag in front of me. "Well, Sar? What do you think?" From the noise that the bag made when he shook it, I could tell there were a sizable amount of coins in there. Quite a bit of money. There was no need to guess at where he'd gotten it from. Mahmood really needed to take better care of his finances. Assef shook the bag again. I laughed and jumped from the bed, reaching out for it.

"Ooh, give it to me! Give it to me!" I said, laughing. This wasn't a demand, though, rather a playful game on my part. Assef held the bag over his head, far too high for someone of my tiny stature to reach. I tried again, and this time, he held out the other hand to stop me. "Hey, no fair!" I complained good-naturedly.

My brother rolled his eyes. "What's not fair is you trying to steal from me, Liebchen," he said, tapping me on the nose. "Honestly, trying to steal from your own brother. I'm... I'm hurt, really." He placed a hand on his heart, eyes downcast. To all the world, he would have seemed totally genuine, as if my actions had honestly upset him. But I knew my Assef better than I knew my own mind. I knew when he was truly feeling something, and when he was faking or joking, and this was definitely the latter.

I folded my arms, pouting, playing my own little game here. "Like you're one to talk about stealing, Assef. You took that cash from our parents, after all. Can you not conceive of the hurt Mahmood and Tanya will feel if they were to find out?" Of course, this being little more than a game on my end, too. There was nothing in the world that could make me tell my parents about this, and Assef knew it too. We were merely teasing each other. Being as close as we were gave us grounds on which to do that.

"I took this money on your behalf, sister," he said, finally letting his arm down and placing the money back into his pocket. "I figured, after all the shit you've been through recently, you could do with a bit of fun." He paused, and before he even got the chance to finish his train of thought, I stepped forwards and wrapped my arms around him. Assef laughed, placing a hand on the back of my head. "You're welcome," he said, then tilted my head up so I was looking at him. "So, what do you say? I have enough money in here to buy both of us lunch in that little cafe you like so much, and, I'm sure, more than enough left over so that you can buy yourself something nice later, too."

That did sound like an absolutely splendid idea. When was the last time that someone, anyone, had treated me to lunch out, as well as offered to buy me something later? My brother truly was the most generous soul that I knew. I grinned so big it felt as though my whole mouth would split in twain. "That sounds wonderful, Assef. Thank you. Now, if you'll just let me get my coat, we can get going."

Assef nodded. He stood back from me and gestured towards the door, which was still hanging half-ajar. "Would you like me to...?" He motioned out into the hallway, "...step outside while you get ready?"

I shook my head, picking up my book and placing it down on my desk. "I only need to get my coat and shoes," I said, walking over to the closet and opening it. I rooted through it, trying to pick out the best fit. Which of my coats would match the lilac dress that I'd chosen to wear on that day. That, and the shoes, of course. Those were very important, too. Had to look pretty and perfect, after all.

Not wanting to keep my Assef waiting too long, I finally settled on my navy overcoat, with matching shoes and gloves. I put them on, first the shoes and coat, buttoning up the coat and tying the buckles on my shoes. After that, I slipped on my gloves. It was an overcast day, here, and winters could get bitingly chilly here in Kabul, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Once I was ready, I turned back to Assef, and grinned.

"Can we go now?"

Assef smiled. "Are you really that eager to leave the house?" he asked. I nodded, and he beckoned me to follow him. Making my way to his side, I walked alongside him as he left the house. After ensuring that the front door was locked, we walked out of our large, walled compound. Assef shut the wrought iron gates behind him, locking them behind him. It would not do for someone to get any ideas about breaking in, after all.

We made our way down the road and out into the streets. The streets were filled with people, men, women, children, all going about their day. The hustle and bustle wasn't all that surprising, really. Given that it was the winter holidays, and schools were out for the next three months, most families took advantage of this time to spend together. Mothers and fathers taking their children to the markets, friends taking advantage of having no schoolwork to contend with and playing games, just having fun. On some level, I had to wonder what little Adia was doing today. I quickly shook the thought from my mind, I wasn't here to think about her, after all.

Somewhere on the journey, I noticed a few young boys, about fourteen or so, kicking a ball around. They were completely engrossed in their game, chatting amongst themselves. But then, as we drew nearer, one of them, possibly the eldest of this little group, whispered something to his friends. They nodded and he picked up the ball, tucking it under his arm. Then, the boys began to walk away, backwards, slowly, their eyes never leaving our line of sight as we passed.

As they neared us, I could see that each of them were giving my brother a nervous side-glance. One of them even made a nervous little whimper as he passed, shrinking in on himself as though he was afraid Assef would reach out and grab him then and there. This was standard, really. The children in the Wazir-Akbhar-Khan district were utterly petrified of my brother, and for more than good reason. His violence and cruelty had become legendary — as was his hair-trigger temper. It didn't take much to set Assef off; and those who did so, well, they faced much deserved punishment for it. My brother lashed out at anyone who incurred his ire, in various ways, no matter what. I, of course, was the only exception to that rule.

I'd born witness to that rage on several occasions, much to my amusement. Once, a boy visiting from the Karter Char district, who had, unfortunately for him, not been properly informed on how best to act around my brother, said or did something that pissed Assef off. Honestly, I forget what exactly he did. What I do remember, however, is how Assef's eyes shifted from normal to predator mode in a split second, and how he'd beaten that kid so badly he wound up unconscious. I still recall watching that with awe, completely and totally fascinated by just how powerful my brother seemed in that moment. That level of control, it was... I was enthralled by him.

My lips twitched upwards at the memory. As more and more people passed by, I continued to stare at them. Fearful kids who scurried past, eager to get away from us. Blissful and happy kids who laughed and played regardless, unknowing or uncaring of the fact that they were in the same vicinity as two people who would happily rip the flesh from their bones. I fixed some of them with a menacing stare, for no other reason but to see how they might react. Fear was such an intriguing emotion, was it not? How easily it can be implemented, deep in a person's very core.

Noticing what I was doing, Assef placed a hand on my back, and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I think we're making an impression, Liebchen," he said, inclining his head back to where those boys had once been. I could sense the mirth in his voice. He patted the front pocket of his jeans. "Would you like to take a spur of the moment Just Because?"

Now, I should probably explain, to those not in the know, what a Just Because is. To put it bluntly, it was a sibling bonding exercise that Assef and I came up with together, something that we'd started doing when we were kids. The basic premise of a Just Because was this:

Assef and I would search the streets, looking at the kids around us and mentally evaluating them, one by one. We'd talk about which ones would make a good target, and which ones wouldn't. Which ones would give us some entertainment and which would just be boring, unworthy. Those who gave off entertainment vibes were always the ones who won this lucky draw, of course. Once we'd found the perfect victim, we'd stalk them, just barely out of sight, hidden enough so that they didn't notice us, but drawing just enough attention to ourselves that they knew they were being followed.

We'd draw them away from the crowd, forcing them to segregate themselves from others. That part took the longest of any Just Because. It was imperative to get that right, otherwise, the rest of the game would be all for naught. Once we had finally gotten our new "friend" to the point where they were completely, totally, and utterly isolated from everyone around them — then... then we chased them down. We always gave them a good head start. The illusion of escape, the illusion of hope. We always dashed it, squashed it like we squashed their pathetic bodies under our feet.

This person always ended up being on the receiving end of a vicious and gruesome beating, delivered with joyful gusto by my brother and I. Assef pummeled them with his brass knuckles and I stomped on their pained, broken bodies, thrilled by their cries of pain and misery. It was an adrenaline rush, heart-pounding, hair standing up on the back of your neck type of thrill. The reason that we called it a Just Because was, well, there was no rhyme or reason for us to do this. These unfortunate people were not enemies of ours, nor had they (usually) done anything to deserve our ire. They just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just happened to be around when Assef and I wanted to beat somebody up.

The idea of taking a Just Because made my heart skip a beat. It was one of my favorite ways to spend time with Assef, perhaps, one could argue, my most favorite way to spend time with him. All the same, today, I was hungry, and not much feeling the whole idea of chasing down a victim, fun as it might have been. I just wanted to have a relaxing, calm afternoon with my brother.

"I'm not feeling it today, Assef," I said, shaking my head. "It, well, it doesn't seem like the day for that. Maybe some other time?" I squeezed his hand in my own, smiling up at him. "I'd just like to have a calm, relaxing lunch and then take a walk around the market."

Assef nodded. "Alright," he said. He removed his hand from the pocket of his jeans, and wrapped it around my shoulder, drawing me in close as we walked. "But you know, the offer is always there if you ever do change your mind."

Finally, we reached the small cafe that I loved so much. Seeing the sign hanging above the door-frame, I gave a little exhale of joy. I couldn't wait to get in there, and eat. The food served here was second-to-one, and I just knew my brother wasn't lying when he told me he had more than enough money to treat us both. We walked up to the doors and Assef pushed them open, holding them so that I could enter first. I did so with a polite incline of my head. "Tashakor," I told him. Before he could respond, a short, middle-aged woman with graying hair approached us.

This was Belourine, the owner of the cafe. She'd inherited it from her mother, I believe, and had been working there ever since. She was a perpetually happy woman, always smiling, always with a kind word to say about every one of her patrons. How in the world a person could be that happy was utterly beyond me, though I suppose when one works with people 24/7, one has to keep a professional and friendly demeanor. No doubt that it would drive me stir crazy, though. Hence why I try to avoid people when I can, with the obvious exception of the wondrous human being stood next to me, of course.

Belourine's smile widened as she neared us. She looked down at me with an almost grandmotherly look in her eye. "Well, if it's not the most darling little girl in all of Kabul," she cooed, placing her hands on my shoulders. For a second, I wondered if she meant to hug me, which I sure as all fuck would not have been happy with, but she didn't. She just kept on grinning. "Let me guess, Saria, are you here for some of your Khala Belourine's yummy Aushak?"

Khala Belourine. Oh, how I found myself boiling at her sugary machinations. You see, it was a common thing here, to refer to men one didn't know as "kaka" or "uncle" and to refer to women as "khala" or "aunt". Belourine was really trying to ingratiate herself into my life. To her, I was a gem, a diamond in the rough. An vision of innocence and purity, no doubt someone that she wished could be her very own child. Too bad I would never, ever feel anything but the deepest contempt for her.

"I..." I began, looking down at my feet. I wanted to give off the impression of timidity. That I had been "overcome with a case of 'the shy'" as the saying goes. I chewed on my lip, and then looked up at my brother, internally pleading with him to get this woman away from me. "Uh, yeah, that... that sounds really nice, thank you." I didn't bother using her preferred term of address; I would not go so far when it came to placating her.

And just as he always does, my Assef came to the rescue. He gave Belourine his brightest, most charming smile. "You must be a mind-reader," he quipped, and Belourine laughed. "That sounds like a wonderful idea." Assef then glanced down at me, as I retreated so I was half-hiding behind him, peeking my head out with nervous, wide eyes. "Ah, and please, do forgive my sister if she's not up to talking much. She's feeling a little bit shy today, what with the crowds and all."

I bristled at the thought of people, even Belourine, seeing me as this pathetic waif who couldn't even handle some people being around. But all the same, I knew the cover story was merely Assef's way of getting this stupid bitch to leave us both alone, so I couldn't blame him for that. Belourine looked at me, again, opening her mouth as though she wanted to make another comment, but thought better of it. She just nodded, and lead us over to a table. Once we'd were seated, and she'd written down our order, she walked away — finally — singing an old, pitchy tune under her breath.

Watching Belourine leave, I pulled a face in her direction, my upper lip curling in total disdain. "Stupid, grinning whore," I said aloud. Of course, it need not be said that I was speaking in German. Assef and I often spoke in our mother's native tongue, because it was a connection to a heritage that we both were very proud of. And, of course, because the amount of Afghans here who spoke that language was slim to none. Which was a good thing when we needed to speak privately.

Assef rolled his eyes, laughing. "She loves you, Liebchen, you know that."

Scoffing, I drummed my fingers on my thigh, glancing towards the kitchens were I knew Belourine had gone. "Of course she does, brother. Everyone loves me." I faced my brother once again. "Even if that feeling is in no way reciprocated." I paused, tilting my head to one side. "But... you see how she talks to me? Like I'm a fucking two-year-old. Would that I could boil her face in scalding water, I wonder if she'd be as enamored with me then?"

I could tell that Assef was going to say something else, but before he could, we were interrupted, by the very woman that we were talking about. She held a tray with two plates of Aushak — a ravioli type dish — on them, as well as two glasses of juice. She placed the items down in front of us, then stood, for another moment, as though she expected us to invite her to sit and eat, too. Assef just nodded in thanks, then gestured for me to begin eating. Belourine turned, and walked away. I sighed in relief that this would be the last time that I'd have to speak to her today.

"Well, dig in, sister," Assef told me.

Picking up my knife and fork, I did just that. "Thank you," I said, gesturing to the plate. "For treating me to lunch, for taking me out today. For... for all of it." They were words that I meant with all of my heart. Nobody but Assef would have the decency to care enough to spoil me like that. Nobody else would have thought about it. He always found little ways to make my life brighter, ways to put a smile on my face. I reached across the table, placed my hand on his, and grinned. "Thank you," I said again.

Assef squeezed my hand, then pulled away, as he began to eat his own food. "Anytime, Sar, you know that."

We ate our meal in peace, a comfortable silence between us. Our conversations remained secret, in German, as we casually talked about one topic or another. Swapping stories and making each other laugh with inside jokes as only siblings as close as he and I could. There was nowhere in the world that I would rather have been, regardless of how annoyed I may have been with Belourine's earlier actions. Spending time with my Assef made even facing the most irritating people worth it.

About half-an-hour later, we'd finished our meal. Assef pulled some coins from the bag in his pocket, placing them down on the table. He motioned for Belourine to come over, and when she did, he pushed the coins her way. "That was splendid, as always," he complimented. "Those coins should more than foot the bill, and please, keep the change, consider it a well-deserved tip." He pushed back his chair, motioning for me to do the same. We stood, together, and made our way out of the cafe, while Belourine counted the money that we had left her.

"Enough for a tip?" I questioned, as we stepped outside into the fresh air once more. "Really?"

Assef shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Might even have short-changed her, Liebchen. I don't much care, she can stick those coins up her ass, it makes no odds to me." He paused, and reached for the money bag once again. "But... on the subject of money..." I watched as my brother too some out some Rupia, far more than what he had given to Belourine. He placed the coins in my open palm. "This is for you. Go and find yourself something in the market. I'll be—" he gestured to the streets around him "— well, I'll be around here, if you need me. I'll meet you back in about an hour or so and we can head home then. Sound good?"

I nodded. "Thank you, brother. I truly do appreciate it."

With those parting words, and my Assef's nod of approval, I was off — meandering off through the streets, looking here and there for something to buy. I slipped the Rupias into the pocket of my dress, not wanting them to fall out of my hand. I glanced at the stands, pausing here and there, wondering if there was anything that may catch my eye. From dolls, to soccer balls, to tennis paddles, to those who sold Americanized products; no doubt haggling them for more than the original price. Of course. American products were a sign of wealth here, hence why my family owned so many of them. I looked at a silver watch, with a gold rimmed face. It looked expensive as all hell, and I wondered if I'd have enough, despite the money Assef had given me.

Probably too damn expensive anyway, I told myself, rolling my eyes, not that it looks like much fun. Probably the sort of item I could charm Mahmood and Tanya into buying for me, if all really does come to all. No point in wasting the money my brother gave to me.

With that, I turned my attention from the watch, and as I turned my back on that stand, I came face to face with an item that I just knew I had to have. It was a small, green and black kite. Kite flying was a national pastime in Afghanistan — children here flew kites as easily as those in other lands kicked a ball. These kites were most often made by an old man named Saifo, one of the best kite makers in the country. I grinned, crossing over the street and approached the seller. "Excuse me, agha?" I asked, in my most innocent voice.

The man looked down at me. He was thin, and balding. His smile was unsettling, a half-leer. I chewed on the inside of my finger, almost nervous to continue talking. "Uhm... that green and black kite there..." I pointed to it, "is that one of Saifo jan's kites?"

"Ah, this one?" The seller took the kite down, held it out in front of me. "Why yes, it is. He made it a week or so ago, but nobody has come to buy it." Placing the kite down, he took out a small notebook and flicked through it. "Let me check this for you, the price. Hmm, let's see, let's see. Just give me a moment, please."

I tapped my foot against the ground, the Rupia jostling in my pocket. My patience was starting to wear a little bit thin, I won't lie. If this man didn't hurry it up and tell me the price, well then, I would have to take the initiative to go and buy something else, regardless of how much I may have wanted that kite. I nonchalantly scratched my elbow, awaiting his response. Oh, hurry it up! I thought, watching him flick through the notebook pages.

Finally, the man reached the correct page. He smiled down at me, telling me the price of the kite and holding the notebook out to me so that I could see for myself. As if I might have entertained the possibility that he was lying? Either way, I had more than enough money to afford that kite. I paid, thanked the man with my most charming smile, and took the kite from him. It was lightweight, and not any trouble for me to carry. With my new purchase tucked safely under my arm, I made way down the street once more.

Now, I ought to have gone back to Assef by now. We could have gone home and I could have flown my kite in the back garden. To this day, I often wonder how my life would have changed if I had. But I didn't. Quite frankly, I wanted to stay out for a little longer. I wanted to test my new purchase out here and now. And I knew just the place in which to do so!

There was a small patch of land just down the road, a barracks that was largely deserted. I'd crossed over this way with Assef several times, and so could easily find my way around without getting lost. I knew that, with the market itself being so packed, the barracks would no doubt be empty, or at least, I hoped so. I could have a bit of privacy there, spend some time flying my new kite before I went to meet up with my brother again. In my mind, it sounded like the perfect plan. Oh, if only I had known!

I walked down to the barracks, kite in hand. Telling my brother where I was never actually crossed my mind; I was more than certain that Assef would be able to find me should he need to. Besides, I didn't plan on being gone for too long, anyway. Twenty minutes, tops, that's what I promised myself. I casually made my way up to an old, somewhat crumbling wall. Someone of lesser willpower may have been a bit nervous to sit upon it, but I didn't even think of such things. I merely reached up to place the kite on the wall, and then began the struggle to get up there myself.

Oh, and what a struggle it was. Getting that kite up there was enough of an issue, let me tell you, and I'd just barely managed that. Pulling my tiny, chidlike frame all the way up onto that wall was going to require using my most inner core muscles. I placed both hands on top of the wall, just about reaching, and then took a deep breath. Counting to three, I hoisted myself up. For a second, I hung there, legs dangling, not doubt looking more than ridiculous, but I soon gathered myself and, using my feet as grips - no doubt scraping the leather on my shoes, but whatever - I managed to pull myself onto the wall.

There I sat, leaning back, admiring the view before me. It was beautiful, looking at everything from this height. If I wanted to, I could have basked in the gentle glow of the sun for the rest of the evening. Still, I'd come here for a reason, and I wanted to make my time here worth it. So, with that thought in mind, I began to unravel the string on my kite.

A fun little fact about kites here in Afghanistan, they were coated with a thin layer of glass and glue. Made them very sharp, far sharper than kites in other places would be, and for good reason. The annual Kite Fighting Tournament that took place every winter was built on one simple premise: fly your kite, cut down your opponents kite using your string, and, most importantly of all, be the last one standing. These competitions were the talk of the town, and, while I had never participated in one myself, I'd witnessed more than enough in my life to know about kites and how they worked. And I knew that I would have to be careful when unravelling this string. I was lucky that I'd chosen to wear gloves on this day, it would save me from having cuts on my fingertips.

As I sat there, carefully fidgeting with the spool on my kite, trying to pull out the string, I heard a high, whiny, male voice say; "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Startled that anyone would have the audacity to interrupt me here, I looked up, and what I saw, it made my blood boil. There, strutting his way down the embankment, hands on his hips, chin jutted out in disdain and lips curled in a scowl, was Farsef Sajihdi. Farsef Sajihdi was a boy from my neighbourhood, who lived in the Northern part of the city. He had short, dark hair, hazel eyes and was skinny to the point that I questioned if it were unhealthy. What he lacked in muscle mass, however, he tried every second to make up for with his whiny, annoying attitude. He was always ready to pick a fight, regardless of whether or not this was with someone who he couldn't take on, or not. His older brother, Aarash, was in the same class as Assef in school, and from what I'd been told, he was more of the same.

Now, Farsef was standing in front of me, arms aloft, a cross between a leering grin and a scowl on his face. I wished I could get away, that I could jump from this wall and run, but I couldn't. I was trapped. Trapped like a poor, defenceless antelope cornered by a whinging lion. All I could do was to just hope I could turn the tables on him. I returned his sneer with one of my own. "What do you want, Farsef?"

"Oh, I was just, you know, hanging out," he said, in a tone that made it clear that he was doing nothing of the sort. "I saw you down here and I figured that I might say hi. You don't got a problem with that, do ya, Saria?"

Someone else might have let this go, may have just said they had no problems and hoped that Farsef would continue on his merry way. I, however, was not this type of person. It was clear that Farsef had come here looking for an argument, and well, that was just what he was going to get. "Uh, yeah, I do have a problem with that. I have a very big problem with it, actually. Did you not think that maybe, just maybe, I might like to be left in peace? If I wanted to be annoyed, there's a whole market full of people who could do that for me."

Farsef's eyes flickered. I could tell that he was not expecting that reaction. Surely, he would have been better off had I just deferred to him, as he was expecting. But now, I'd thrown back a verbal punch, and it was down to him to make the next move. "Yeah, don't play fucking coy with me, girl," he snarled. "I'm not in the mood for your silly, little games."

"As I'm in even less of a mood for yours," I shot back. "So, how about you do us both a favour and piss off, yeah? I was here before you and quite frankly, I don't need you stinking up the place. Go on." I motioned with my hand for him to leave, gesturing out in front of me as I straightened up, tall as I could, ensuring I looked down on this boy - literally - with every possible opportunity.

But leave, he did not. Instead, he took a step closer to me. He pointed to the kite that I had set upon the wall. "Where'd you get that?" I ignored him, not even bothering to offer him an answer to his question. I just wanted him to leave now. Farsef cleared his throat. "Hey, answer me when I ask you a question!" he snapped, in an awfully whiny tone. "Where'd you get that kite?"

"Market," I responded, inclining my head in that direction. I turned from him, and continued to fixate on my kite. "So, if you'd like to go and buy one of your own, well then, please, by all means. Don't let me stop you."

"Why would I do that when I could just take the one you have?" Farsef asked. I stared at him, completely and utterly bewildered by his insolence. Did this... did this fucking brat really just say that? Did he really just insinuate that he was going to take this kite - my kite - for himself? I almost had to laugh at the complete audacity of this piece of shit. I really did.

I scoffed. "Yeah, that's not happening. Now, are you going to fuck off by yourself or do you want me to make you?" When Farsef didn't respond, I turned from him and continued to unravel the string on my kite. I began to hum under my breath, now completely ignoring Farsef. He would leave eventually, of that I was sure. He'd leave and I wouldn't have to deal with him. Right?

Farsef wasn't having any of it, though. He stomped his foot on the ground. "Give me that kite, Saria." When I didn't respond, he tried again. "Give it to me! Give me the damn kite!" With that said, and no answer from yours truly, he took another lunging step forward, and grabbed the spool from my hands. I was not expecting that, and in my shock, almost lost my grip on it. But I managed to keep a hold of it, and thus began a tug-of-war between Farsef and I. He tugged the spool towards him, I tugged it back to me. He pulled, I pushed. We were locked in this battle, each one craving to be the victor. Finally, Farsef's rage built to a crescendo that he could no longer handle, and he did something that he no doubt regretted with every fibre of his bones, for the rest of his short life.

With a cry of "you fucking bitch!" he reached forward, past the kite spool, and grabbed me by the arm. If I had not been expecting his earlier outburst, I had been expecting this one even less. I cried out in surprise, my eyes widening. Farsef tugged on me, hard. Letting out a vocalization that was both shock and rage, I overbalanced and went tumbling from the wall. Down I went, throwing my hands out in an attempt to catch my fall. I screamed as I hit the ground. My stomach, chest and knees hit the dirt with a loud thump. I almost chipped a tooth when my jaw collided with the dirt.

There I lay, utterly stunned. I couldn't believe that Farsef had just had the audacity to physically assault me. He'd gone from verbally berating me, and being irritating, to now laying his hands upon me. White hot pain seared itself through my body, all I could do was just lay there and watch as Farsef picked up my kite, which had fallen when I did, and begin to walk off with it in hand. I wanted to jump up and take it from him, but I couldn't find the strength in me to do so. But my luck soon changed, fortune smiled upon me again, as I heard the thunder of storming footsteps and looked up to see someone else coming onto the scene. Farsef's countenance became one of terror. Three guesses as to who it was.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO TO MY SISTER?!"

Assef was storming towards us, his face contorted with unbridled fury. Farsef backed away, hands raised in front of him, trying to splutter out a coherent word, to say something, anything, in his own defence. There was nothing that he could do, though. Assef had just seen his beloved Saria lying on the dirt, clearly in pain, clearly having been the victim of some awful maltreatment, and he was going to enact vengeance upon the perpetrator.

Throwing his hands out in front of him, my brother shoved Farsef, hard. The boy was in no way able to stand his ground against Assef, and, fell backwards, clear onto his ass. The kite fell out of his hands and rolled into a puddle some feet away. Turning away from him now, Assef made his way back over to me. His countenance became softer, more tender. He bent down, taking me under the arm and lifting me back to my feet. He looked me up and down, his eyes flickering with several emotions. Sympathy, and anger, all rolled into one. "Sister," he breathed.

I looked down at myself. Now standing, I could see the full extent of the damage that Farsef's stupidity had caused. My dress was muddied, torn in various places on the skirt, the hem ripped. The gloves had been pushed up my hands, somewhat, and they were covered in tiny gashes. Both of my arms were mottled with yellow bruising that would no doubt turn various shades of green and blue over time. But the worst injury that I had suffered by far was the one to my knee.

It had been cut when I hit the ground, and now, a large gash was forming, blood tricking down my leg and into my white socks, drip, drip, dripping onto my shoes. I gaped, unable to believe that this had happened to me. Tears of frustration and pain welled up in my eyes. Assef placed a gentle hand on my cheek, and tilted my head so that I was looking at him in the eye. "Saria," he whispered, a gentle tone to his voice, clearly inquiring after what had been done to me.

Raising a trembling finger, I pointed to where Farsef lay in the dirt. "I... I bought a kite with the money you gave me, and I went to sit on the wall, there," I told my brother, gesturing to it. Assef nodded, encouraging me to continue. Which I did. "And Farsef came over, just right up to me, and started being a little prick. So I told him where to stick it, and.. and then he tried to tug the kite from me. So I tugged it back and then grabbed my arm and just... just threw me right off the damn wall. I mean, look at me, Assef! You see what he's done to me?!"

Assef clenched his jaw. He stepped away from me, and looked back to Farsef. The fucking asshole was now trying slink away quietly into the distance, tiptoeing away, with my kite under his arm, eyeing up my brother like he was some caged animal ready to strike. He hadn't said a word, hadn't even tried to apologise or explain himself, not that any explanation would have been a good one. Did he really, truly think that he could just get away with this? That there would be no repercussions for attacking me?

That pissed me off. What right did he have to just walk away? The pain in my body slowly evaporated away, forming now into pure, unbridled rage. I needed vengeance, I needed to teach this insolent brat a lesson! From the look in my Assef's eyes, I could tell that he felt the same way. We nodded at one another, and then, with snarls of anger, we charged.

The only noise that came from Farsef's mouth was a gasp of terror, as my brother threw himself full force onto him, knocking him back onto the ground. With one hand, Assef caught the edges of the boy's coat and slammed his head into the ground, over and over again. With the other hand, he fished around in his pocket until he found exactly what he was looking for. I grinned. His stainless steel brass knuckles glistened as he slipped them onto his hand.

There was sickening thud of metal on flesh, and a cry of pain. Assef had just punched Farsef right in the face. Blood ran down his noise, and I'm pretty sure I heard a most satisfying crunching sound. My brother continued to pummel him, hitting every square inch that he could find. I watched with morbid fascination, laughter peeling from my lips, bouncing, joyfully egging Assef on. "That's it, brother! Break his fucking jaw!"

After five minutes or so, Assef turned to me. He looked apologetic, and beckoned me closer to him. "How sorry I am, my darling sister," he said, shaking his head, "here I am, having my fun and not giving a second thought to you, Farsef's actual victim." He aimed a well placed kick at Farsef's chest, eliciting another pain-filled cry. "Forgive me, Liebchen, I've been caught up in the moment. Come here, let's see you punish him too, hmm?"

Well, I certainly didn't need to be told twice. I rushed towards Farsef. I may not have been wearing brass knuckles, but I knew how to hit, and I knew how to kick, which is what I did. Aiming blow after blow down on him. Stomping on his head, punching his chest, kicking him in the mouth. My curls hung around my face, tangled, but I didn't give a shit about that. All that I was focused on now was vengeance, making Farsef spill his own blood for the blood he had cost me.

At one point, Farsef managed to scramble away from us. He retched, rocking back and forth. It was all that he could do to not collapse. With no strength left, he fell to his knees, holding his clasped hands out in front of him, a begging gesture. "Please!" he exclaimed, mucus and blood flowing from his nose, tears saturating his cheeks. He whimpered, pathetically. "Please, please... no more. No more... I can't take it... Please... I just want to go home... I just want to go home... Please..."

His words caught me by surprise. He wanted to go home? Had I not made that same suggestion to him, just minutes earlier? Had I not told him to go away and leave me alone? None of this would be happening if he just abided by my earlier warnings, and yet here he was, with the audacity to beg for mercy. Who, just who the fuck did he think he was? Mercy? There would be none of that. If anything, his words only spurred me into a further rage. I screamed and made to lunge for him again, but Assef got there before me.

He tugged on Farsef's jacket, hauling the boy upright so that they were almost level. It was only his grip on Farsef that stopped him from keeling over, it looked like. Assef glanced at me, then back to Farsef. He leaned down and started to violently tug on his left ear. Farsef screamed, and my brother bent his head down, doing something that I, from this angle, couldn't quite see. What I do know is that Farsef emitted a noise that I had never heard anyone, human or animal, make before. He tried to push Assef away from him, but it was to no avail.

Assef straightened back up. There was something in his mouth, though I couldn't quite see what it was. He loosened his grip on Farsef, and next thing I knew, the little cunt had fallen onto his side, clutching his head and staring up at Assef with a look that I can only describe as pure terror. His eyes were wide as saucers, tears pooling on his blood-stained cheeks. He mouthed the words, "What...?" over and over again.

"Since you think it's acceptable to take something that belongs to my sister," Assef began, taking something from his mouth, "why should I not return the favour and take something of yours?" He held up what he was talking about, and my eyes widened with shock. It was Farsef's ear!

Yes, you read that right, and no, I am not making this up. Farsef's right ear was in my brother's hand, and the rest of Farsef was not attached to it. It took a second for this, and what it meant, to register with me, but when it did, I couldn't believe it. Assef had just... bitten somebody's ear off! Had just mutilated them. This was beyond anything that he had ever done before, beyond any normal beating, and he had done it for me. To defend my honour! I wanted nothing more than to embrace him and express my deepest of gratitude, but I knew that now was the time to remain where I was and watch this whole incident unfold.

To a "normal" child, this would have been disgusting and wrong. Indeed, if I were in any way the person I made myself out to be, then I too would have been abhorred by this sight. Alas, to me, this was a thrill. Another expression of my dearest brother's love for me. Assef stepped over Farsef and tossed his ear. It landed in a muddy gutter some feet away. Farsef crawled to the gutter to fish out his ear. Assef spat on the dirt where he'd been laying. "Now, stay the fuck away from my Saria or that'll look like a gentle ear twisting compared to what I'll do to you next."

I giggled. Assef turned back to face me. "Yeah, Liebchen, I know that sounded like a pun, but I didn't mean..." He raised his hands in defence, and made his way back towards me. By now, the adrenaline was slowly starting to wear off. The pain in my little body now more pronounced. I swayed from left to right, more blood dripping from the wound in my knee. Assef looked down at me. "Come here, Saria, let me look at you."

He pulled me into a quick embrace, then looked at my injuries once again. "They look superficial, at least," he mused. "No scars, but you'll no doubt have some nasty bruising for some time. I'll put some cream on them when we get home, and we'll see about bandaging up that knee of yours. We'll stay indoors for the next few days, just while you heal."

I nodded. That did make sense. "I think I've had enough fun to tide me over for this weekend, Assef," I said, looking back at Farsef, who was still crawling in the gutter, trying to find his ear.

Assef took my hand in his. "Okay, then, let's..." He paused. "Oh, wait, Saria. Your kite? Do you still want it?"

Looking at the offending object, I saw that it had taken far more damage in the brawl with Farsef than I'd originally anticipated. It was now torn, the spool broken, the string all tangled up in knots. I shook my head. "It's too broken," I said, then, feeling guilty, added, "I'm sorry, Assef jan. I didn't mean to waste your money. I-"

"Hey now," Assef cut across me, tenderly, drawing me in for a one-armed embrace. "None of that, sister. It's not technically my money, is it? Nothing to feel bad over, if you don't want it, you don't want it. Besides, I think the fun you and I just had counts for a million kites, wouldn't you?" I nodded, and he pressed a kiss to the top of my head, then began to lead me down the road. "Alright then, now let's go home, and I'll see to it that your injuries get treated, okay, Sar?"

We walked away, taking a different path from the one we had come, a path hidden from the main streets that meant we did not have to traverse the market in order to get home. As we did so, I stole another glance back at Farsef, still hunched over the gutter, fumbling around for his ear. Would he be able to get to the hospital in time for that to be fixed, I wondered? Or would he remain half-deaf for the rest of his miserable life? The answer, I realised, meant nothing to me.

Farsef's pain, his suffering, it meant nothing to me. It was but another teachable moment, both for him and I. I now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the lengths that my Assef would go to for me, and that filled me with a renewed sense of vigour. Farsef had learned a hard lesson about fucking around with the Ahmed siblings, and if mutilation was to be his punishment, then so be it.

Say what you will, but in my mind, he got what he deserved.


Thank you for reading! I appreciate everyone who takes the time to look through this story and give it the time of day. You all mean a lot to me. In the next chapter, Saria is back in Adia's house, for another play-date, and her true manipulations of the girl will begin. Look for that coming along very soon.

Thank you again!