Author's Note: In the last chapter, Saria watched as Amir won the annual Kite Fighting Tournament. She, along with Assef and his friends, chased down Hassan in an attempt to get him to relinquish the kite that he had run for Amir. However, Saria's joy soon turned to shock as she bore witness to Assef raping Hassan, which she had not at all been expecting. Unable to confess to her brother what she had seen, she has kept this secret from him. Now, three days have passed since that day, and Saria is about to go on another play-date with Adia, though nothing could prepare her for the secret her best friend is hiding...

My apologies again for the delay in getting this chapter out. Writing this story can take time, but I promise that I am always working on it in some fashion or another; and you can always expect a chapter sooner or later. Please do note, again, that I do not condone or encourage the actions, words, characteristics or personalities displayed by the characters in this story. It is but an act of fiction and should in no way be emulated.

Thank you for reading, and without further ado, please enjoy this next chapter!


"Ow! Fuck!" I swore through gritted teeth, my face contorted in pain. "This fucking knot, come on... come ON!" Sat at my vanity desk, I glared into the mirror, my lip curled in disdain, my eyes narrowed into almost cat-like slits. In one hand, I clutched a fistful of my golden hair; the other raking a brush through it, in an attempt to untangle the giant knot that seemed to have taken up root there. I'd been working on this particular knot for about five minutes or so, and was nowhere near close to being done. Tears of frustration and pain welled up in my eyes, as I hit yet another rather difficult snag. It took everything in me not to let my frustration get the better of me and begin stamping my feet on the carpet.

Were this any other day, I might have conceded to take a break, if only for a minute or two, just to give myself time to calm down, if that. But alas, there was no time to stop, no matter how much it might have ached me to yank the brush through my hair, I had to keep going. Today, you see, I needed to look as pretty and demure as possible, for it was on this day that I would, yet again, be visiting Adia and her family. This would be the first time that I would be a guest within the Kalahari's house in months, but despite my misgivings, I knew there was nothing that I could do. Would that I lived in a family where I wasn't forced to play nice with another family just to help my father's business ventures. Would that I could talk to them and not fear physical reprimand for not wanting to go along with their orders.

But alas, that was not the home I lived in, and twelve long years of bowing to Mahmood and Tanya's whims had caused me to learn just what level of obedience they desired at any given time. Today, that meant dressing in one of my best outfits, a light pink dress with a bouncy, knee-length skirt, and white butterfly collar, matching white lace ankle socks and my best, cleanest white shoes. Said shoes, which now rested buckled upon my feet, had been polished last night by Hamilra. A smile formed on my lips as I imagined the effort that she must have made to get my shoes as clean as they now were. Nothing that I didn't deserve, after all.

Finally... finally, I got that blasted knot out of my hair! I breathed out in relief, and then began the tedious task of separating my locks into two neat plaits. It was a tedious and methodical process, but I knew that it would have to be so. I could not rush this; these plaits would need to be done to absolute perfection. Were I to leave a hair out of place, to tie the ribbons askew, I was fully aware that if Tanya came up to fetch me and spotted me with even a hair out of place, she would force me to undo it, then make me sit and stare at myself in the mirror, repeating out apologies for my carelessness whilst she redid my plaits, scolding me all the way.

I could not, under any circumstances, permit this to happen, and so it was with this thought in mind that I began to pull and twist at my hair, separating the pieces, holding them aloft, then plaiting them, neatly. It took a while, five minutes longer than it might've done if I wasn't trying to do it to perfection, but eventually I had sorted my hair into two neat, little plaits. Staring at them in the mirror, I nodded in satisfaction and then, picked up two neat, matching ribbons and clipped them expertly into the ends of my hair.

"Pretty," I whispered. Fully satisfied with my appearance now, I rose to my feet and walked over to my closet, throwing open the doors and rummaging through the rows of coats that hung zipped and buttoned in matching rows. Flicking through them, I selected a long, black pea-coat, one that would match with my outfit, and removed it from its hanger. With the coat draped over my arm, I slowly made my way over to my bed and sat down. Curling my right foot upon my lap, I fiddled with the buckle, tightening it. With my free hand, I leaned across the bed and picked up the doll that Assef had given me for my birthday.

My fingers gently ran over her soft body, holding her under the arms and looking her in the eyes. She was adorable, really, the picture of innocence. There were only three people who knew of the weapon that hid within her. Turning her over in my hands, I unzipped her and pulled out the lighter that was kept sequestered inside. I ran my fingers over the lighter, tracing the initials of my name, carved there so expertly. As I did so, I thought of the first and only time thus far that the lighter had been used.

Though it had been some time since my disastrous birthday, since I had been forced to punish Adia for her disrespect, I still thought of that day often. The anger that I'd felt.. when she ignored me... when she pushed me... the words that she had said... all of that brought my blood to the boil, and there had been nothing for it. I'd wanted nothing more than to hurt her; it was like the rage became a separate entity, guiding my hand, egging me on. But now... with the passage of time and the ability to think clearly returned to me, I couldn't help but to wonder if I had made the right choice.

Now, don't get me wrong, Adia deserved to be punished. Her actions had been entirely inappropriate, and as her friend, as her guide, it was my duty to show her the right path. To show her that this behaviour could not be allowed to stand. She needed to understand the respect and deference with which I expected to be treated, and to allow such behaviour to go by unchallenged, I would not only be letting myself down, I would also be failing Adia. Failing the perfect friend I knew I could fix her into.

But... to have burned the girl, to have done something so cruel... I couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, I had gone too far this time. Adia was not merely some nameless victim that I wanted only to hurt and use for my own personal gain. No, she was my friend, one of the few select people who were privileged enough to hold that title with me. I cared for her, truly. I would not have put such effort into fixing her if I thought her a lost cause. That was what I told myself, when my conscience came roaring to the forefront of my tormented psyche, when I became overwhelmed in what lesser mortals might refer to as "guilt".

I did it for her own good, I thought, staring down at the lighter, remembering the terror in Adia's eyes as I held it to her stomach, how her face contorted in pain, how she had cried out for me to stop, how she struggled, how my brother had held her down while I set her skin aflame. It did not bring me the same level of joy that it had done previously, nor did I enjoy reminiscing about hurting Adia in the same way I did about killing Zainab, or watching Farsef get his ear bitten off. Instead, try as I might to assuage the guilt, it roared back to life at the most inopportune moments. And lo, how I hated that. How I wanted nothing more than to cut myself in twain, rip away that part of myself that made me question my decisions, that made me feel so... weak. The part of me that was terrified of going to visit Adia today; the part that felt physically ill at the idea of coming face to face with the girl that I had hurt so badly.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to push down these negative feelings by reminding myself over and over that Adia deserved everything she got. Burning her was punishment, it would not be very effective if she didn't feel pain from it, would it? It wasn't as if I'd caused any permanent damage. Yes, I may have left a scar, but she wouldn't die from that, now would she? No. I was not in the wrong here. I was the one who had been wronged, and I had been right to extort justice for myself. There was no reason for me to feel anxious about seeing Adia again, no reason for me to be the one who was apprehensive about our reunion.

As I sat there, engrossed in my thoughts, so far away from everything and everyone else in the world, I was jolted back to reality by a knock on the door. Flustered, I hurriedly tossed the lighter to the side, throwing the sleeve of my coat over it, knowing that if it was Tanya on the other side, I wouldn't have time to place it back within the doll. Indeed, I cursed myself for being so foolish as to have taken it out in the first place, when time was of the essence. Taking a deep breath, I said, in the calmest voice that I could muster; "Come in."

My panic was eased slightly, however, when the door opened and instead of the pinched face of my mother, demanding that I hurry up, instead, in came my brother, a warm smile on his face. "I thought I'd come to see you before you left, Liebchen," he said. "I'm sorry I startled you." Nobody else would have caught the tremor in my voice, or noticed that I had straightened up the moment the door creaked open, or seen how my eyes were flitting towards the lighter that hid under my coat sleeve. But Assef did, for he knew me better than I even knew myself.

"It's alright," I replied, with an absent-minded shrug. "I thought Tanya might be sending up a search party. You know how worked up she can get about time management, especially when we're going somewhere." There was no need to mention that our mother's neurotic behaviour tended to happen no matter where we were going, even if I were merely visiting a friend.

Assef crossed to my bed, and sat down beside me. As he did so, he brushed his hand against my coat sleeve and a slightly confused expression washed over him. "Sar...?" he asked, lifting the sleeve to reveal the lighter hidden rather haphazardly beneath. Assef arched a brow, holding the small weapon in his hands, running his fingers over my initials, just as I had done. "We'll have to find more reasons for you to use this, won't we?" he mused, speaking more to himself than to me. "Maybe on our next just because, what do you say?"

"Maybe," I muttered, trying to sound happy, to sound excited about the prospect of going on another just because with my Assef, but I just couldn't muster up the enthusiasm. Before, the idea of using that lighter on some hapless, nameless victim would have filled me with a dark joy beyond comprehension, but right now... all I felt was an odd, uncomfortable sensation in the pits of my stomach. Was this merely my conscience battling over what I had done to Adia? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Perhaps the awkwardness I was feeling had less to do with Adia and more, loathe as I was to admit it, to do with Assef.

This was the first time that I had gotten to spend any real time with my brother, short though it may be, since the Kite Fighting Tournament. Since... since I had watched him hurt Hassan. Hurt. Yes. That was what I would call it. Perhaps it was childish to sugarcoat his actions, but I would not, could not, refer to what my brother had done to the boy by its proper terminology. I could scarce even dare to think about it, so unsettled was I at the prospect of his actions. It was... I couldn't explain it. Couldn't truly put into words, or even into coherent thoughts, what I felt about the scene I had witnessed.

Now, don't get me wrong, I didn't think for a second that Hassan didn't deserve to be punished, or that my brother shouldn't have shown him his place. But... to do so in that way? Assef wasn't... he couldn't be... I mean, I had never entertained the thought that he could possibly be... attracted to other boys... if that even was what I should call this. Were his actions based on something else entirely?

And to commit such an act in a public place, secluded though that alley might have been? In front of witnesses? While I tried to convince myself that neither Kamal nor Wali would breathe a word about my brother's transgressions to anyone, I couldn't help but remember just how disturbed Wali had been about what Assef was doing. How neither he nor Kamal had looked him in the eye, how they didn't join in on Hassan's punishment.

And, the fact that had kept me awake at night; there had been someone else there! Someone else who watched, who saw everything just as clearly as I'd seen it. I'd never been more unsettled, and to make matters worse, I had no idea who the person was, or whether they had any plans to spill the beans. It made me feel physically ill, to think that there was someone out there who could put my brother in danger...

The worst thing about all of this was that I couldn't share my worries with Assef. I couldn't tell my dearest one about all that was eating me up inside. For if I did so, then that would mean admitting that I too had seen what happened. That I had gone against his express wishes and snuck back to watch when I had been told not to. it would mean running the severe risk of starting an argument between us. I didn't know what Assef's reaction would be, but I knew it wouldn't be good. I knew that he would be upset with me. I knew that it would create an even greater tension between us, and I couldn't bear that thought, couldn't bear to see the look of disappointment that I knew I would see in his eyes when he learned that I had betrayed his trust.

"Sister?"

I was jolted out of my reverie by the voice of the same person I had just been thinking about. Turning, I saw Assef looking at me with an apprehensive expression on his face. He had replaced my lighter back inside the doll - I was so far away in my own mind that I hadn't even noticed him doing that. "You seem... bothered by something," he said, concern lacing his voice. "Not as talkative as you'd normally be with me. Is something wrong, my dearest? Is something amiss? Talk to me, darling, what is it?"

"I..." I began, then hesitated. He sounded so desperate to know what was wrong, and I knew that his worry was genuine. It broke my heart to know that I would have to lie to him, and for a moment, I considered spilling the beans. Maybe it would make me feel better to just get it over with, and take whatever unpleasantness I knew would come. Assef and I told each other everything, did we not? But then... I would be leaving soon. If I were to open up, and potentially start an argument, then I would have to spend hours in Adia's house knowing that I'd caused pain to the most important person in my life and would be unable to make it right for hours. I couldn't handle that. I'm weak, oh, I am fully aware of that, but I had to lie. I had to make up some other excuse.

Luckily for me, I had one ready to go. It wasn't as though I didn't have other issues to deal with. And maybe by sharing one of my lesser concerns with Assef, I could find a small modicum of peace. "It's just... well... I haven't... I haven't seen Adia since... you know..." I gestured to the doll who now lay on her side on the bed. "And I guess, well, I... uh... I just feel... uncomfortable. I don't want things to be awkward between us."

Assef cupped the side of my face with one hand, gently rubbing my cheek with his thumb, looking me deep in the eyes. "You have nothing to worry about, Liebchen," he said, with such strong conviction that I almost believed him. Almost believed that all would be well, that I would have no troubles in my life. As though nothing could harm me so long as I stayed there, with him, safe so long as we kept the rest of the world out. "Adia deserved everything that happened to her that day, and she won't be disrespecting you again. Believe me, she knows her place." When I gave him a somewhat confused look, he clarified. "Before her father came to collect her, I had a word with her. I told her that under no circumstances was she to ever treat you like that again. She knows, my precious sister, she knows what will happen to her if she dares to hurt you again, in any way."

So he threatened her, I thought, and an odd feeling settled itself in my gut. On one level, I was touched that my brother was so willing to defend my honour, but on another, it made the guilt increase tenfold to know that he was always there to protect me, and not only had I betrayed his trust, I was lying to him about it. Looking down at my knees, and playing absently with the hem of my skirts, I muttered a soft, "Thank you, Assef jan. You always know how to alleviate my fears." Except, piped up a small voice in my head, that I couldn't quieten even if I wanted to, for those times when it is he who is causing you those fears, and you are too much a coward to talk to him about it.

My brother drew his arms around me, pulling me into another of his warm embraces, running his fingers over my hair. I wrapped my arms about his waist, my head resting snugly upon his chest while we held one another. Normally, being held by my darling would have given me a comfort for which no words can describe, but now... I couldn't help that awkward, uncomfortable feeling that ran through the depths of my very core as I sat here with my most treasured person. But I would dwell on it no longer, for it would not serve me to do so. Maybe, if I pushed those negative thoughts to the back of my mind, the issue would disappear on its own. Wishful thinking, I know. but that was all I could muster.

I parted my lips, to say something else, but was cut off by an incessant knocking upon the door. Tanya. Much as the bitch was wont to do, she came barging in right as she was knocking, making me wonder why on earth she bothered with that false display of courtesy in the first place. I manoeuvred out of Assef's embrace, though I kept my head resting on his shoulder, and his fingers remained intertwined with mine. Tanya's gaze settled on my brother and I, and she fixed us with what can only be described as 'Tanya Ahmed's judgemental stare' wit her eyes narrowed, and a sneer curling her lips. What her problem was, I had no idea, nor did I particularly want to know.

She muttered something, which I couldn't quite make out, though if I knew my mother, she was probably bitching about the fact I was sitting with my brother when I had to get ready. Refraining myself from throwing my eyes to heaven, I rose to my feet, bowing my head demurely and placing my hands in my lap, addressing Tanya with the politest voice I could muster up. "Is it time to go, Mama?"

"Yes, Saria, it's time. Come over here and present yourself to me so that I might inspect you." Behind me, Assef made a non-committal humming sound, and though I didn't turn around to look at him, I knew he was probably scoffing at our mother's ridiculous behaviour. Yet there was nothing to be done, and so I approached Tanya with my head bowed, and my hands held loosely by my sides. Once I was within reach, Tanya grabbed my arms and turned me left and right, spinning me around as she inspected my outfit, my hair, and every inch of my appearance. She whirled me back to face her, taking my chin in her long nails, and looking down her nose at me.

"Good," she said, nodding once. "Very good, Saria. You look presentable, daughter." That was as near to a compliment as I knew I would expect to get from her, and so I took it with all the grace and submission of a contrite child. Addressing her with words of gratitude, I waited for her to speak again. She stepped towards the door, opened it, and, turned back to face me. "Your father is waiting for you downstairs. Go and wash your hands, then meet us by the front door."

I nodded. "Yes, Mama," I said, politely. Then, I stepped back towards my brother, and wrapped my arms around his waist. Awkward as I may have felt around him, I would not leave without saying goodbye, or feeling the warm embrace of my most precious Assef, for it would be hours before we could see each other again. Assef pressed a kiss atop my head, and held me against him for a moment. Tanya, who was still standing by the door during this, made a low whistling noise through her teeth.

We, of course, ignored this and continued our embrace for a few blissful seconds before, until finally, I ultimately had to pull away. "I'll see you later, Assef," I told him. By now, Tanya had given up her judgemental whistling and had retreated down the stairs, where she was no doubt regaling Mahmood with complaints about my dearest and I. I retrieved my coat from off of the bed and put it on, doing up the buttons with nimble fingers.

Together, my brother and I left my room - with me closing the door gently in our wake - and went our separate ways; Assef walking down the hall to his room, and me to the bathroom where I washed my hands, gave myself one last appraisal in the mirror, then made my way down the stairs to where my mother and father stood waiting for me in the hall.

Mahmood pulled his arms through the sleeves of his coat, giving me a firm stare as he did so. I curtsied in greeting to him, offering a polite nod in Tanya's direction, for she too continued to glare down her nose at me. Without even acknowledging my deferential behaviour, Mahmood turned to his wife and said, loud enough for me to hear; "Is the child presentable, Tanya? In your opinion?"

Not sure why her opinion on my clothing mattered more than mine, and I quite frankly thought I looked very nice, but that's beside the point. Voicing such concerns would have earned me a belting when I returned from Adia's, and so I wisely held my tongue. Tanya nodded. "Yes, Mahmood, she is. I checked that myself." She placed a hand on his shoulder, as if reassuring him of... something, though just what that was, I did not know.

"Good," he said, then, finally, he gave me his attention. "Well then, Saria, we'd best be off. Don't want to keep the Kalahari's waiting, now, do we?"

"No, Papa, we do not," I said. Then, after offering Tanya my politest goodbye, and sending a wistful glance towards the stairs where I knew my other half was no doubt sequestered within his room, I followed Mahmood out the front door and down the gravel driveway to the car. He opened the rear door for me, and, after thanking him, I gracefully slid into my seat, doing up my seat-belt as Mahmood put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway.

Neither Mahmood or I spoke a word to each other as the car made its way down the road, nor did we particularly want to. What would we say to each other? What did we have in common that we could have discussed? Mahmood cared little for anything I might tell him that didn't directly impact his business ventures, or serve his ambitions in some way or another. And I? What care did I have to have even the slightest conversation with my father? I was more familiar with the lashes of his belt than I was with the man himself. There was no true care between us. That car may well have driven itself for all the emotion I bore towards the man in the driver's seat.

As we continued our journey, I stared out the window, my hand pressed under my chin, ignoring everything but the world as it passed by, my thoughts flitting from one topic to another. The nearer we got to the Kalahari's house, the more my stomach twisted at the prospect of seeing Adia again. At seeing her family again. My brother might have been entirely confident that the girl would not breathe a word of what happened to her, but I could not be so hopeful. Trying to convince myself that all would be well did no good; my overactive imagination continued to offer me scenario after scenario, wherein either Adia or her parents would chastise and punish me for my actions on that fateful day.

Such thoughts - and the anxieties that came with them - were really starting to irk me, truth be told. I hated feeling unsure, hated not being in control. Hated the mere idea that Adia had some sort of... power... over me. I was the one meant to be in power; she feared me. She cowered before me. She was obedient and subservient to me. Not the other way around.

Don't think of it, Saria, I told myself, as the car turned the corner leading into the Kalahari's driveway. You worry too much, you know this. Everything will be fine; if Adia was going to tell, she would have done so, and you would have known about it, by now. Come on, do you really think her family are planning, what, some sort of ambush on you? Don't be stupid, there's no way in Hell that's going to happen. Now come on, take a breath, straighten up, and put your best foot forward. Make an amazing impression today, and you'll have nothing more to worry about. Make Adia love and adore you as she should.

Finally, after seconds which felt like minutes, we arrived at the Kalahari's house. Mahmood parked and exited his vehicle, then came around back to let me out. Taking a breath, and steeling myself, I hopped down from the car and was about to start walking towards the house when my father reached out his hand to stop me. He caught my upper arm, pulling me back, not with a whole lot of force, but enough that I stumbled back and almost tripped over my own feet. Fortunately, I managed to catch myself before I could go sprawling to the asphalt, and looked up at Mahmood, trying not to show my indignation upon my face.

He bent down, placing his hands on my shoulders and looking me right in the eye, with a stern countenance. "Now, Saria," he said, and I internally groaned. Oh, yes. Here we fucking go. Another lecture. Mahmood wagged his finger in my face. "You will be aware, child, of the level of conduct that your mother and I expect from you when you are a guest in someone's house. You will be polite, courteous and respectful at all times and treat your Kaka Javid and Khala Faraya with the honours that are due to them as your elders and your betters."

Hearing him call Faraya and Javid my 'betters' made me want to slap him, but I refrained for the sake of my own personal health, despite the ever rising blood pressure that his words were giving me. "Yes, Papa," I replied demurely. "I understand, sir. I will be on my best behaviour, you need not worry."

Mahmood must have been satisfied with my answer, because he removed his hands from off of my shoulders, dusted his hands off on his trousers (as though it disgusted him to touch me) and nodded. "Good girl. Come on, let's get you to the door. We do not want to leave your hosts awaiting your arrival."

Part of me wanted to remind him that I had turned twelve recently, and therefore was old enough, and intelligent enough, to find the door by myself, but instead, I just held my head up, and walked ahead of him. We reached the Kalahari's house and Mahmood gave two precise knocks on the door, before stepping back and folding his arms behind his back, as though he was a door-to-door salesman. I stood a few paces away, my head inclined, eyes focused downward on the ground.

Seconds passed. One, two, three... then four, with nobody coming to answer the door. As the seconds dwindled away, I began to wonder if they'd perhaps forgotten we were coming. Would we have to turn around, and drive back home? No doubt that would have irked Mahmood and Tanya no end, but I would have had the chance to spend the day with my beloved Assef, and I can't deny that wasn't a joyous thought.

But... just as I was about to give up hope that anyone would let us in, I heard movement coming from inside the house. The unmistakable sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Then, the noise changed to that of a person fiddling with the locks on the door, and then... it swung open, revealing Faraya on the other side.

She looked... for lack of a better word, haggard. As if she had not slept properly in days, at the very least. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, wild strands of hair hung loose from the bun she had tied up rather lazily. Her shirt was rumpled slightly and I noticed the faintest hint of a ladder in her tights. Faraya didn't seem to notice or care in the slightest - not like Tanya would have done. She stared at us for a painfully long moment, as though the concept of people knocking on her front door was entirely foreign to her, then a smile spread across her lips, coming nowhere near reaching her eyes.

"Mahmood jan!" she exclaimed, breathlessly. She offered him a hand to shake, which he took graciously. As he did so, I noticed a slight furrow of his brow. No doubt, he too had noticed her dishevelled appearance, but he said nothing, though I had no doubt that he would be discussing Faraya's dishevelled appearance with Tanya when he returned home. Then, she turned her attention to me, and her smile became even more pronounced. Even more forced. "And Saria! How wonderful to see you again, little one!"

I clenched my fists within the skirts of my dress, feeling my blood boil to the point I felt it might turn to flame. Little one? Little one? How dare she... how dare she address me as such? How dare she look at me with that patronising expression of motherly joy upon her face? Did she not know that I was her better, of how utterly forlorn and pathetic she looked with her dishevelled appearance and torn clothes. Would that I could have had to hand the knife which I used to end Zainab's life, I would have spilt Faraya's blood just as easily. Alas, I could do nothing but stand there and smile, my head bowed demurely in the submission that I knew my father, who was glaring at me with his eagle eye, expected of me at all times.

"It is lovely to see you again, too, Khala Faraya," I replied, sweetly. "Thank you most kindly for allowing me to visit your home today. I am most delighted to be in your company, and of course to see Adia jan again." There. That was polite. That was subservient. And that, I knew, would satisfy my father.

"Such a precious little dear," Faraya cooed, hands clasped to her chest, her eyes swimming with delight. "And so polite too, you must be proud to have raised such a daughter, Mahmood jan." The man in question made a noncommittal sound, and I wondered what Faraya might say if she knew of the beatings it had taken to get me to this level of false-obedience. Standing back from the door, Faraya gestured into her home. "Would you care to come in, Mahmood? Perhaps for a cup of tea?"

At this, my heart almost seized within my chest. No. No. No. Not that. Please, not that. Didn't I see enough of this man while I was at home? Must I have his company while I was with my friend, too? Could I never be free of him? But then, just as I thought that all was lost, my prayers were answered with a shake of Mahmood's head. "No, Faraya jan, not today. Busy with work, you know how it is. Thank you for the offer though. It's much appreciated." With this said, Mahmood bent down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, in plain view of Faraya, so that he might seem the perfect, loving father. "I'll be back this evening to pick you up. Be good, and have fun with Adia jan, alright, darling?"

Once again, my mind was filled with dark imaginations of murder and disembowelment. Darling? When was the last time my father called me that? When was the last time that he hugged me, like a parent is supposed to? When was the last time that he smiled at me as he was doing now? Only when he was in company and wanted to give off the vibe of being a dutiful, doting father. Indeed, from the corner of my eye, I noticed Mahmood glancing periodically in Faraya's direction as he spoke to me. I could almost tell what he was thinking, how desperate he was for her to see him in a positive light.

Faraya waved off Mahmood's concerns. "Oh, she'll be an angel as always, I'm sure," she said, and I gave Mahmood the sweetest smile I could muster. With that, I stepped inside the house and Mahmood, finally, took his leave. I was honestly so relieved to see the back of him. Faraya shut the door behind her, then turned to me. "I'll just call Adia down for you, shall I, Saria jan? She's just in her room. Why don't you go on into the living room while you wait. Would you like a glass of milk or anything, sweetie?"

"No, thank you, Khala Faraya," I replied, keeping my head tilted down as I spoke. Faraya placed a hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle nod before she turned and began making her way up the stairs. As she did so, I obeyed the orders I had been given and slipped quietly into the living room, sitting down upon the couch, with my legs daintly crossed at the ankles and my hands folded demurely in my lap, as though I was visiting the royal family and needed to make a perfect impression. Well, I thought, bitterly, rolling my eyes in a way that would no doubt have earned me a scolding from Tanya if she ever caught me doing so.

Thinking of Tanya only served to compound the uncertainty that I was feeling right now. I could still feel the ghost of Faraya's tender touch upon my shoulder, could still hear her kind and motherly voice asking if I wanted milk. I tried to imagine the last time that Tanya had been so kind to me, the last time that she called me 'sweetie' or looked at me with the same compassion that Faraya did. Indeed, the only person who ever addressed me with tender petnames was my beloved Assef. Much as I detested being spoken down to like I was some little toddler, I must admit that it was... on some minuscule level... a little nice to have someone treating me in the way that mothers were supposed to treat their children.

Before I could think on this further, however, I was distracted by footsteps upon the stairs. Getting to my feet, I made my way out of the living room, to see Adia making her way gingerly down to me, her steps tiny and measured, as though she wanted to take as much time as she possibly could when down there. Behind her walked Faraya, who remained a step or two behind her daughter. Every so often, Adia would glance back, as though wondering if perhaps she might be able to make a run for it, if she needed to. How it irritated me to see that, to see how fearful she was of me. How she wanted to be anywhere but here. And how her mother was smiling as though nothing in the world could possibly be amiss. Did she not see the terror in her daughter's eyes? Did she not see that something was wrong? Or, perhaps, was Faraya's concern elsewhere?

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and stood together, Adia a little too close to her mother than I might have liked. She glanced down, chewing on the inside of her lip and scuffing her shoe against the floor. Again, I found myself imagining the reaction that I would get from Tanya if I were to do something like that - and especially in front of a guest - but Faraya paid it no heed.

Adia raised her head to look at me, her gaze flitting every which way on my face apart from my eyes - which she couldn't quite meet. "Hello, Saria jan," she said, and I noticed, with a sinking feeling, the robotic tone in which she spoke those words. Slow and methodical, as if she wanted nothing to do with me. A forced smile came upon her face, and I had to wonder if the one that I wore was equally as false. But before I could say anything else, or offer my own greeting, the little robot continued. "It's nice to see you again, and thank you for coming to play."

You were told to say that, I thought, yet without the level of bitterness that I expected to feel. It was as if... I had expected this sort of behaviour. Oh sure, part of me wished that Adia would run into my arms, that I might gather her up into my embrace and all would be sunshine and rainbows and unicorns frolicking in the magical garden, but that was the childish, stupid part of me. I cynically scolded her for those immature thoughts, and in so doing pushed them into the part of my psyche where such foolish fantasies could remain just so.

"Why don't you two run upstairs to Adia's room and play?" Faraya asked, in that same motherly tone I found so utterly confusing. "Go on. I'll call you when it's time for lunch, alright?"

"Okay, Mommy," Adia replied sweetly, and with that, she began making her way up the stairs. Tanya would have slapped me for not curtsying and for the informality of that reply, I thought, watching as Faraya merely nodded and bustled into the kitchen. I stared after her for the longest time, this woman who was both enemy and enigma in my perspective. Already half-way up the stairs, Adia turned and noticed me, waiting with one foot on the bottom step, appearing no doubt to be in a world of my own. Shaking her head, she motioned for me to follow her. "What are you doing all the way down there, Saria? Come on. Come on up and play."

She gave me an apologetic look as she said those words, spoken through almost-whispered mumbling. Just from her body language alone, I could tell she was fearful to be seen as "ordering" me around in any way. Yet again, my stomach clenched to see her so nervous - as Conscience berated me for having brought about these feelings in a girl that I wanted as a friend. I waved off her concerns, then began making my way upstairs, gingerly, as though I was approaching a wild animal that might lash out if I made the wrong move. "I'm sorry, Adia jan," I said, "I was just lost in thought; I'm on my way up now."

Adia nodded once, then turned around and didn't say another word to me as we made our way across the upstairs landing and into her room. Once we were safely inside - with Adia stepping back diligently to let me enter first, out of courtesy or fear I could not tell - and she closed the door gently behind her, the tension really began to amp up. There we stood, two girls so anxious to be in one another's presence, looking everywhere in that room but in the other's face. My eyes fell on Adia's bed, which had been made up, yes, though not anywhere near the level that mine was done at home. I tried to envision Faraya lashing out at her daughter for being sloppy, but the picture would not come to my mind, no matter how much I figured it should have.

Stealing my attention away from the bed, I turned towards the window. It was open slightly, the curtains gently blowing in the cool, winter breeze. For a split second, an insane thought entered my mind; would I be able to escape that way, if it came down to it? After thinking this, my mind granted me the image of myself nosediving out of the second-story window and making a run for it. I pictured myself darting through the back garden, vaulting over the fence, and sprinting all the way home. I would return to the safety of my brother's room and spend the rest of my day within the safety of my darling Assef's embrace.

Of course, I stopped myself from doing so, with the reminder that not only would I probably break my legs jumping from the window, my parents would probably whip said broken legs raw for leaving the Kalahari's home early. But before I could think on this any further, Adia spoke, her timid voice interrupting my thoughts. "Uhm... do... do you maybe..." she began, moving awkwardly from one foot to the other, "I mean... you don't have to say yes if you don't want to, of course, b-but... my daddy bought me a new doll house and I was thinking maybe we can pl... uh... play with it... If you want..."

Her words trailed off, and she looked down at the carpet, trembling ever so slightly. It was as if she feared I might lash out, that instead of merely telling her "no" I would become physically violent with her. Well, it's not as if she wouldn't have a frame of reference for that, is it? piped up that condescending voice in the back of my head. I mentally told it to shut its fucking mouth, then plastered a consoling smile upon my face and looked at Adia. "I would like that very much, Adia."

Adia nodded, rocking on her heels with a beaming smile on her face. She walked to her closet, opened the doors and bent down, moving coats and shoes out of the way so that she could get something resting on the closet floor. As I glanced in her direction, I mentally noted just how... messy... her closet space was. Did she even take five minutes out of her day to clean up? It took everything in me not to roll my eyes, but I managed, and continued to watch as Adia fumbled about, even tossing a few pairs of shoes onto the floor behind her. I took a dainty step back to avoid getting a shoe in the head, and laced my fingers together. Maybe I ought to have offered some help, but honestly, I didn't quite want to get involved.

Finally, Adia found what she was looking for. "Got it!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly. She turned back to me, with a large, pink doll house held in her arms. She brought it into the middle of the room, and dropped to her knees, beckoning me over with one hand, as the other fumbled to open the little plastic doors on the doll house. "Come on, Saria, come over and see!" She was so excited, I couldn't help but feel enamoured by the sight of it. Who was I to deny her fun? I knelt down beside Adia, staring at the doll house.

It looked impressive, I'll admit that. It was baby pink in colour, two storey, with fancy, pretend flowers dotted about, and several tiny windows, which I could see tiny dolls looking out of. "My daddy bought it for me as a special treat, and all the dollies and furniture that comes with it!" This... took me aback, and I found myself wondering just what Javid had done wrong for him to be purchasing something so expensive for his daughter. I mean, really, that toy and all its accessories must have cost him a small fortune. What sin had he committed that he felt the need to make such recompense?

For that was the only reason why Javid would have bought Adia that doll house, and everything that came with it, this I knew within the fibres of my bones. The only times when Mahmood ever bought me something was when his actions had caused him to feel such guilt that he needed to do... something... to assuage it. Since an actual apology was far beyond what Mahmood could offer, he would often purchase me expensive toys and clothes. Such acts of kindness became fewer and fewer the older I got, however. The last time I received a gift from my father was when I was seven, and had broken my arm in an event that I have pushed to the back of my mind, and do not much care to think of now. He had bought me a fancy blue dress and a small bracelet to go along with it. It probably still fit me even to this day, though I haven't worn it since my tenth birthday. Still, with my short stature, it wouldn't be that remiss to think I could not get into it if I wanted to.

Now, as my gaze fell upon Adia, who was making her little doll walk up and down the rooms within the doll house, her mouth inaudibly muttering words of pretend play, I found myself inspecting her arms for any sign of bruising, or a sign that my worries over why her father had given her such an expensive gift could be accurate. But I dared not say a word to Adia about it. Our friendship was going through a rocky enough patch as it was, and accusing her father of having hurt her - most especially when I had no proof but my own conspiracy theories, would serve me no good.

Adia extended a doll to me. "Let's play families," she said sweetly. She really was adorable, all eager, shimmering eyes and head bobbing as though it were on a spring. What kind of person would I be if I didn't at least attempt to bring happiness to this darling child, she who's friendship I wanted to cultivate more than any other? Most especially when such a simple game would bring her this level of joy.

"Of course, dear," I replied, taking the tiny doll from Adia's outstretched hand and looking her over. She was a pretty little thing - painted smiles and rosy cheeks, in a tiny red dress. Adia grinned at me and together, we began playing a quiet and attentive game of families, with yours truly more often than not taking on the parental, protector role and Adia as the child. At first, it had been a tad difficult to settle myself into the role of caregiver, even if it were merely in pretend, but one look at how pleased the young girl beside me, and it became easy to push any and all discomfort that I had felt to the back of my mind, to sequester it away such that I might not feel it again.

As we continued to play, mostly in silence but with occasional bouts of small-talk between us, I noticed that something was a little amiss with little Adia. She was quieter than normal - and every so often I noticed her glancing anxiously in my direction. She was hesitant with every move, as to waiting for me to give permission for her to act. It was an odd feeling, I must admit, to be so deferred to by one that I wanted to consider a friend. These feelings of awkwardness were only compounded by the fact that I knew, with a fervent certainty, that I was the reasons for Adia's discomfort. She must have worried that I might turn violent again if she didn't behave as I pleased.

I should not have cared, I know. Adia was, in many ways, my subordinate. I wanted her friendship, but we would never be equals - that I had known from the start. Still, that didn't mean I couldn't care for her. Didn't mean I had to be so cold as to ignore her suffering, a suffering that I thought of often with deep regret. Alas, I would not dare to bring it up; much as I might have yearned to explain to her the reasons for my actions, to remind her again that, no matter the guilt I felt towards her, it had been Adia's fault that I had burned her.

To discuss such negativity with her would be only to make it more real, and I could not do so. It was best to just push the matter, out of sight, out of mind. I would be sweet as sugar to this child, would shower her in my affection and treat her with such warmth and compassion that she would not feel any other emotion for me but unbridled obedience and devotion. I would show her that Saria Ahmed had within her the capacity for great love and kindness, that I was not the monster she had forced me to become.

"Are you having fun?" I asked gently, as my "mommy doll" tucked Adia's "baby doll" into bed. She was staring ahead, her eyes boring into the dolls, as if she yearned for nothing more than to shrink herself down and live in their picture perfect house with them. For a moment, she didn't answer me, and I wondered if perhaps I ought to address my question to her once more.

Just as I was readying myself to do so, however, and offering words of self-encouragement so I would not lose my temper with her unwillingness to answer, she spoke up. "Yes," she said, not taking her eyes from the dolls for a second. It was but one word, but I could tell that she didn't mean it. And now, watching her, seeing the look on her face, the way she would not look at me, the way she seemed to be mouthing something else, something I couldn't quite make out; I knew that the time for ignoring the problem was dissipating. Loathe as I was to do so, I knew that I would have to face this head-on.

Placing my doll to one side, I inhaled deeply, and extended my hand to Adia, noting with a twinge of sadness how she flinched from me as I did so. I won't let it bother me, I told myself, internally counting upwards from zero in an attempt to calm down. Having reached seven and now feeling considerably better, I spoke again, keeping my voice as level as was permissible. "Alright, let's put our game on pause for a moment, shall we?" It was not a request, and Adia understood that. She tore her gaze from the doll house, and looked at me. Well, perhaps I should amend that to say she looked at the floor where I was sitting, because she still didn't want to meet my eyes.

I thought to reach out and hold her hand, but decided to take a slower and steadier route when it came to Adia. "We need to talk," I told her, in as gentle a voice that I could possibly muster. She furrowed her brow, and a look of apprehension passed over her face, but I made the choice to ignore that. "I can tell something is wrong, Adia, and no, don't shake your head like that, there's no point in denying it. Something is amiss." Now I sidled closer to her, ready to wrap my arm around her, but still far enough that she had whatever space she might have needed. "I won't be mad, no matter what it is. But I do want to know what it is that's bothering you. Maybe if you tell me, I could help. Isn't that what friends are for?"

Friends aren't for setting on fire with lighters, that's for sure, Conscience piped up. I ignored that, in favour of helping Adia with her problem, reminding myself that no matter how tough it may be, I would be there for her. I would help her through it. Even if... and how I hoped this would not be the case, her issue was that she still feared me. That would be harder to deal with, but most certainly I'd make the effort for her. She deserved that, at the very least, did she not?

Raising her hand to her lips, Adia began to nervously nibble on the loose skin hanging from her fingernails, chewing anxiously as she looked back and forth from me, and then to the closed door. Was she thinking of making a break for it, as I had done? And if so... was the information that she had to share with me really that bad that she would need to escape? Out of fear of my wrath? I felt another uncomfortable clench within my stomach, which I did my best to ignore. Surely... surely whatever Adia had to say could not be that terrible... right?

"They..." Adia began, squeezing her eyes shut, "they... I mean... my parents... they saw..." She lowered her voice so that her next words came out as barely above a whisper. "They saw the mark, Saria... They saw the... burn..."

Those words slammed into me, with all the force of a speeding train - knocking the wind right out of my sails. Bile rose up from deep within me, and I cleared my throat several times to fix that, though it did no good. The room was spinning, my eyes starting to blur such that I could barely see one inch in front of me. Adia's face swam in and out of focus, and I gaped at her in horror, mouthing words that could not escape my lips.

I clenched my fists, wanting nothing more than to grab Adia by the shoulders and shake her, violently, until she told me everything - and I do mean everything. I wanted to force open her mouth and sink my nails into her flesh until the pain became so great that there was nothing she could do but spill each little detail about what happened. Her parents had seen the burn? Then why the fuck didn't she tell me that sooner? Why was that not the first thing out of her mouth? Why was her mother acting so sweet and kindly with me when I had done this to her little girl? Or was this just some attempt to lure me into a false sense of security? Had I walked myself into a death trap by coming here?

"What..." I began, trying very hard to keep my temper level and my voice calm, "what happened, sweetling?" I reached out and took her hand, firm yet gentle - I told myself over and over that I needed to be so - wanting her to feel comforted by my presence, so that she might be inspired thus to give me the information I so desperately craved. "I need to know, alright? Every detail, and please don't leave anything out. You say your parents know about... about me... burning you... What hap-"

"They don't know you did it," Adia cut in, and I immediately stopped talking, so confused was I by that statement. Faraya and Javid had seen the burn, but did not know it was I that had done it? How did that make any sense... unless... I motioned for Adia to keep talking, rubbing her hand with my thumb. She tensed, but began her explanation - keeping her eyes downcast in subservience. "I was getting dressed for bed and Mommy came in and she saw-" At this, Adia's eyes welled up, and she pulled her hand away from me, drawing back into herself, as though afraid I might strike her for that admission. I gave her a reassuring smile, mouthing the words 'it's okay' so that she would know I was on her side, that I meant her no true harm; so long as she did my bidding.

Adia wiped at her eyes, then continued. "It was a few days after... after you had..." She left out the phrase 'after you had burned me' and for that I was grateful. I didn't need her compounding the guilt I already felt. "I was getting ready for bed, like I told you, and Mommy walked into my room to give me my bedtime glass of milk, and I was pulling my nightgown on over my head and she saw the mark on my tummy and-" At this point, Adia wrapped her hands around her stomach, moving back from me as though she feared I might lash out and punish her for this transgression.

But of course I would not. I could not. Not today, not now. I had done enough to this girl - and no matter my own feelings, I knew I risked everything if I became violent now. Instead, I remained at a safe distance, giving her the space to gather herself and get her emotions under control. "Breathe," I told her, "in and out." I laboured my own breaths, in three, hold for three, then out for three again, just like Assef did for me when I was in moments of panic. "That's it. You're safe, Adia, I promise I'm not going to do anything bad. I won't hurt you. Just tell me... What did your mommy do? After she saw the burn?"

"She... she asked me where I got it from," Adia finally whispered, in so quiet a voice that it was hard to hear her. "I... I tried to tell her it was nothing, but... she wouldn't stop asking." And now, my opinions towards Faraya Kalahari were rapidly moving in quite a negative manner. Such a busybody, inserting herself into her daughter's life when she didn't need to be there. And now look, poor Adia had been forced into such a tumultuous position - and I couldn't help but fear what answer she had given to those questions. "I... I knew I'd h-have to give her some answer, and I didn't wanna g-get you in trouble either, so I told her that I burned myself on the stove."

"You... you did?" I asked, my eyes widening.

She nodded. "Mommy and Daddy went out the day after I came back from your house, and I was alone, well, I mean, aside from the housekeeper but she was out cleaning the yard. I... I told Mommy that I spilled boiling water on my tummy while I was cooking. And she told Daddy the next day, and they gave me a lecture on being more careful around the hot stove, but... that was it. I didn't get in much trouble and... and they believed me." Adia lifted her head, staring me right in the eyes as she said these next words, "I didn't tell them it was you, Saria, I promise I didn't. I wasn't going to get you into trouble, I swear it!"

In that moment, I can safely say that the love I felt for Adia was more palpable and true than ever it had been before. She had lied for me. She had risked getting in trouble with her parents to keep me from facing the consequences of my actions. And what's more? She had done this all on her own volition. Oh sure, I might have coaxed her to fib the previous time I'd disciplined her - and on some level I wondered if this might be the reason for her to do so now - but no doubt Adia could've just stated that I was the reason for her pain. She could have gotten me into a world of trouble. More importantly, she could have gotten my darling Assef into trouble - if she had confessed how he'd threatened and manhandled her. Indeed, in the back of my mind, I wondered if it were partly due to Assef's threats that she had lied.

But oh, did that matter? Did I care one jot why she had lied? No, all that truly mattered was that Adia had protected me. She clearly wanted my friendship, then, did she not? How I could have cried in joy and gratitude. I moved a little closer to Adia, tentatively, not wanting to upset the girl. I would not dare do anything to bother her now, not when she had been so loyal and obedient to me. No, I was a good friend, a benevolent mistress, and as such, I needed to offer both comfort and gratitude to the sweet girl who had risked so much for me.

When Adia didn't shy away from me, I wrapped my arms around her and drew her to me for an embrace. "Thank you," I cooed in her ear, pressing my lips to the side of her head and holding her close. "You're such a good friend, Adia jan. I appreciate what you've done for me, more than I can say, my dearest." And I did, oh, I appreciated this sweet, caring, and obedient young girl so much. She had proven just how well she could be moulded, into the type of friend I expected her to be.

Yet... as I sat there, with Adia snugly fit within my arms, carding my fingers through her hair and basking in the warmth of our rekindled friendship, I was struck by another thought - one that unsettled me the more I considered it. It seemed to have been so easy for Adia to fake an injury to her parents, and for them to believe her. I was reminded of how, in my younger years, I too had concocted several lies to explain away the bruises I received from Mahmood and Tanya's cruelty. At the tender age of five, I had once laid awake, with bruising on my arms from a particularly brutal discipline by Tanya (for a transgression I remember not) fretting about what I would say to the Mullah(s) when I arrived at school the next day. For I was certain that my bruises would be noticed, and I knew I would need to fake a reason for them.

They had, of course, gone unnoticed, but it was in that moment that I first began the prospect of lying in the face of abuse. How odd it felt now, to be on the other end of that. To be the reason that someone else had to lie. It was a notion that engendered both guilt and power within my soul, and I mentally warned the former to concede to the supremacy of the latter. Adia only needed to lie to stave off suspicion from the mark I left upon her, which I had only given to her because of her own actions. It all came back to her - this I reminded myself once more. It was her own treasonous disrespect that had lead to me needing to punish her.

I am not at fault, I reminded myself, tightening my grip on Adia, yearning for the comfort that holding her gave to me. The sweet girl snuggled a little closer to my embrace, and made a happy, soft, little noise. It dawned on me just how much of a relief it must have been to her, too, for me to have taken her recount of those events so well. To her mind, surely, there must have been the terrible idea that I might have snapped at the mere notion that she was not careful enough in hiding her wound. Yet, there was no enmity in my heart for her. Only kindness.

I pressed yet another kiss to her temple, then pulled away, offering a compassionate smile. "Now, Adia jan, why don't we put uncomfortable matters to rest and continue with our fun?" Adia blinked at me, and I picked up a doll, tapping her nose with it in an act of playful jest. She giggled - a high, mirthful sound that warmed my very soul to hear. "There you go, sweetheart," I complimented, telling myself that I would be nothing but affectionate towards her now. I would give her the benevolence that she so richly deserved. For you see, I am not as cruel a monster as one might think.

Soon, our normal play resumed. Adia seemed to have relaxed immeasurably, the fear she had been previously experiencing clearly siphoning away, following my acceptance of her tale. She was openly chatting now, showing me all of the features that came with the dollhouse. I'll admit, here, that they weren't all that interesting - but Adia was eager to show me, and the courtesies of good friendship dictated that I at least pretend to care about what interested her. Besides, I may not have cared too much about the object of her excited gushing, but I can't deny that she was precious in her animated delight.

As I listened to Adia happily tell me more about the dollhouse, nodding along at all the right moments, I couldn't help but think about another house. One that was instrumental in changing my life, but that I had not seen or visited in many weeks. Of course, I am referring to the house in which I murdered Zainab. I could still pull up a fairly clear mental picture of it, from the rickety stairs, to the creaking hallways, to, most importantly, the room in which Zainab had lost her life. The memory of how that knife had so easily cut into her flesh, how it had taken mere minutes to snuff out another person's life - and the look of reverent awe in my beloved Assef's eyes, made my lips quirk ever so slightly.

Adia glanced my way and smiled, clearly thinking that my happiness was due to playing with her, rather than from memories of a gruesome murder in which I had participated. I absently began threading my fingers across one of the tiny blankets, on one of those tiny beds. How lucky those dolls were, in their picture-perfect little home, not a care in the world, no cruel, monstrous parents to contend with. How wonderful it must feel, I thought, to have a safe place like that.

We continued to play for another few minutes, before I finally took notice of how dusty my hands were. Makes sense, I thought, just how long has that dollhouse been in Adia's closet before she got it out to play with? I must not have paid any heed to it before, being so engrossed in other things. But now I had noticed, and I could ignore the issue no longer.

Rising to my feet, I motioned to Adia. "I'm going to get my hands washed," I told her, gesturing with the aforementioned dust-covered fingers. "They're a bit dusty, as you can see, and well..." I trailed off, but she seemed to understand what I was getting at, and nodded.

"Okay, Saria," she said. "You know where the bathroom is, don't you?" Off my nod, she smiled and got to her feet as well. "Maybe we can play marbles or make a jigsaw puzzle next?"

It was a plea framed as a request, and I flashed her a sweet grin, to let her know I would acquiesce to her wants on this day. "That sounds good, Adia jan. I'll be right back."

With that, I slipped out the door and made my way to the restroom. Once inside, I locked the door behind me and began lathering up my hands with the soap made available to me. They really are dusty, I thought, my lip curling in disgust as I threaded my fingers together, back and forth, in order to get them as clean as possible. Not that I was complaining all that much - getting my hands dirty was worth it to make Adia happy. Still, being Tanya Ahmed's daughter meant that concepts such as neatness were drilled into my head far, far more than they would be for someone such as Adia - who I noticed didn't seem all that bothered about whether her own hands were clean or not.

Trying to banish all thoughts of my mother from my head - for I had thought of her and Mahmood far too often today - I began humming a soft, pitched tune under my breath, to a song which my precious Assef often used to hum to me when we were children. I do not know if it had lyrics - he only ever hummed it - but still, doing so myself always brought to mind the comfort that my other half gave me.

Turning on the tap, I let it run for a moment or two, before placing my hands under the warm water, still humming, as the soap washed off of them. As I did so, I heard something coming from out in the hall. The sound of muffled voices. It was difficult to make out what they were actually saying, behind closed doors and down the hall - and, of course, with the sound of running water too. Still, my curiosity was getting the better of me, as so often it does, and thus I turned off the tap, dried my hands, and slipped quietly out the door, closing it as silently as I could behind me.

Across the carpet I walked, praying I would make no sound as I did so. As I did so, the voices grew louder, and, though I couldn't yet tell what they were saying, I recognised them as belonging to Javid and Faraya. They were talking in what I could only describe as "hushed whispers" and I had to really strain myself to hear even an iota of their words. But they were arguing, of that I was certain. I knew hushed, angered voices when I heard them.

I tiptoed ever closer along the hallway, following the sound of the voices until I stopped just a few paces away from the door to what I assumed was Faraya and Javid's room. Now, you might be wondering why I was doing this? Why bother listening in to an argument that quite clearly had nothing to do with me? Why put myself into a situation where I might end up bearing witness to something I did not want to? Had I not learned my lesson the last time? Was the memory of my Assef's behaviour in that alleyway not warning enough?

Apparently, not, it would seem - for though I glanced back towards Adia's closed door, I just could not bring myself to go back there. They say that curiosity killed the cat, and if that is the case, then my nine lives were hanging in a precarious balance. I stood so near to the bedroom door that I might have reached out and touched it, had that been my inclination. By this time, the voices of Faraya and her husband were loud enough that I could hear every word they were saying.

"Why are you being so callous about this?" That was Faraya's voice, and she sounded as if she were about to cry. "Why, Javid?! I'm breaking my back trying to make things right, and... and the second that we get some bad news... you act like it's time to just throw in the towel!" My interest piqued by that statement, I leaned in closer, wondering just what, exactly, Faraya could be talking about. Bad news? What bad news? Was there trouble in their marriage? Was it possible that Javid, friendly, warm, fatherly Javid, could be cheating on his wife? Was that why he bought Adia that doll house; to take her mind off the fact he had betrayed her mother? To give off the impression of a united family, when they were, in fact, anything but?

But then... I thought again. Faraya had said "we got bad news". We. Plural. Surely, she would not have said that if Javid was cheating, right? Yet... "breaking my back to make things right".. Where had I heard that one before? What more could this be but marital problems?

"You think I'm not as devastated as you are?!" Javid snapped back, so harshly that I unconsciously flinched. "You think this hasn't utterly broken me, that if there was anything that I could do to make it right, I wouldn't do it?! You think-"

Faraya cut across him before he could finish that sentence. "I don't KNOW what to think, Javid!" she shrieked, far more out of control than ever I had heard her. I could envision her, behind that closed door, her wild hair matted about her face, her eyes swimming with pools of tears. Her face reddened with.. anger... desperation... a mixture of both? "I mean... you only need to look at me to see how broken I am about this... I can't sleep at night, going over everything in my mind... I'm ALWAYS looking for something, anything, that might save..." She trailed off. "that might... help... but there... there YOU are... just going about your life like nothing is wrong, spending your money on gifts for Adia - as if that money couldn't be put to better use - and I don't... It's like this doesn't even MATTER to you!"

There was a brief silence, during which time I wondered just what "tragedy" Faraya could be referring to. What dark secrets were this seemingly perfect family hiding? Now, all hope of me turning my back on this eavesdropping endeavour completely vanished, and I moved, inch by inch, closer to the door, taking care to remain as silent as possible, so as not to be overheard. I pressed myself against the wall, next to the door, and waited, with baited breath, for this argument to continue.

"Of course it matters to me!" The agony in Javid's voice was almost palpable. "But there's nothing that can be done. Nothing. You heard what the doctor's said; it's time for us to accept what's coming... much as we don't want to... and God knows, I don't want to... but... but I'm trying..." he trailed off, his breath hitching. "I'm trying to keep everything running as smoothly as possible... It would be so easy for me to crash and burn... but I know I can't do that... I've got to be strong... For Masood-" Here, his voice cracked, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a sob. "And for Adia... She's just a kid, Faraya, and she's already dealing with more than any little girl should have to... you think she needs to see her mother and father completely fall apart? No... no, that's not fair to her, and you know it... And speaking of Adia, keep your voice down, please! She and Saria are playing in her room, only a few feet away, they don't need to be hearing any of this!"

If only you knew, I thought. Then... I went over everything I'd just heard. They needed to accept what was coming, the doctor's said there was no hope, Javid was trying to be strong for his children... he had sobbed when he mentioned Masood's name... he didn't want Adia or I to hear them... It was all coming down to one thing... and the more I thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. How could I not have figured it out earlier? How could I not have seen the signs?

Adia's bedroom door opened, breaking me out of my reverie. I waited for Faraya and Javid to notice, to come storming into the hall, all guns blazing, and berate the two of us (but more likely me) for eavesdropping. I tensed, knowing it could not be long now... but it never happened. They must have been too engrossed in their fight to notice anything going on around them. To notice that their daughter was standing in her bedroom doorway, with tears in her eyes, silently pleading for me to return to her. When I didn't move, she took a few steps forward, her gaze never leaving mine the entire time. Once she was close enough, she reached out and began to tug on my arm. "Saria," she whispered. "What... what are you doing?"

"Shh," I hushed her, placing a finger to my lips. "We'll get in trouble if they know we're listening in, won't we?" Adia didn't respond, no doubt unclear as to how to react to that. Had she ever heard her parents fight like this before? Judging by the look in her eyes, and the way her body trembled in fear, I had to guess the answer was no but before I could be the responsible friend and get her out of this situation - which frankly neither of us should have been in in the first place - Faraya decided to let out a barrage of curse words I never would have expected from her, followed by a unholy shriek that made both Adia and I jump about a foot in the air.

It was so loud, it drowned out all other sounds. "Oh, DON'T you lecture ME on wanting what's best for our children, Javid!" she shrieked. "How DARE you stand there like you're so morally fucking righteous, pretending to be the perfect, caring father, when your own SON is DYING and you won't do anything, you won't even lift a goddamn FINGER to save him!"

I froze, then, my eyes widening as the realisation of Faraya's words and their implications, came to light. Masood was dying. Of course. Of course. That was why he never made an appearance. That was why he always looked so ill in those rare glimpses I did catch of him. How could I not have noticed? How could I not have seen this before? I almost wanted to berate myself for being so slow on the uptake. Then I caught a look at Adia's face, and all other thoughts but her went right out the window.

Her lower lip quivered, tears pooling in her eyes. She was muttering something under her breath; I couldn't quite make it out, though it sounded like she was muttering "no" or "stop" over and over. Was she willing her parents not to fight? Willing her brother to not be suffering a fatal disease? Both of these things? None of them? Just what could be going through her head in this moment?

Adia broke out of her trance and started tugging on my arm again, this time far more urgently than she had done before. "Saria," she whispered, "Saria, please... please... come back to my room... please... I've got a jigsaw puzzle for us to try, it's got a rainbow and a pretty cottage and-" Poor child was obviously trying to sweeten the mood, to get her mind off of what she'd just overheard.

She glanced towards the door to her parents room, then back to her own bedroom door, and her lower lip wobbled. "Please, Saria. I don't want... don't want..." The unspoken implications were there, clear as day. 'I don't want to hear any more of this'. And much as this trainwreck intrigued me, like the reruns of a bad soap opera, one final glance at Adia's heartbroken face and I knew I had to go back with her.

"Okay," I said, silently, "come on, let's get back. But keep quiet, alright, your parents don't need to know we were eavesdropping." She nodded in agreement and the two of us tiptoed back to her room, where I quietly shut the door behind us, taking care not to let it make any noise as I did so. Faraya and Javid were still in the midst of their argument, cruel words bouncing to and fro, no so loud that there was no doubt that they could be heard, not that this seemed to bother them, but it no longer mattered to me what they were saying. No, all that my mind focused on was the information that I had just gleaned.

Masood was dying. It seemed such a strange concept, odd as that may sound for a murderer to say. But I had never known any terminally ill people before - and any time I did hear of such things, they were spoken in context of a much older person. Not... not a child. Not someone barely older than I was, someone who had his whole life ahead of him. It was strange.. but... people died every day, right? Old, young, rich, poor, none of us were immune to mortality. Death would come for all of us sooner or later. Was there any point in getting so upset about it, as the Kalaharis were doing? At least Masood would have the dignity to say his final goodbyes when the time came. He was lucky in that regard - Zainab was proof that not everyone got (or deserved) that chance.

Then I looked at Adia, and saw the trapped tears that had woven themselves in the corners of her eyes. I saw the pain that covered every inch of her face, and, despite my best attempts to keep the awful idea from my mind, it sprang to the forefront unbidden; what would I feel if Assef was the one dying? If my darling brother, my other half, the light of my life, the joy of my soul, was terminally ill and there was nothing that I could do to save him. If I had to live every minute knowing that one day I would wake up and he would no longer be there for me. Just the thought alone was enough to bring tears to my eyes. I couldn't live in this world without my darling.

Poor Adia let out a whimper, wrapping her arms about her lithe frame. Conscience bade me go to her, to take her in my embrace and offer her to the comfort no-one else seemed to be bothered to give. Yet all I could do was ask, in hushed tones, "Is it true? Is Masood... dying?"

She nodded. "Yes... I... He's been sick for a really long time, you know? I... That's why you don't see him too much, he spends a lot of time in the hospital and... and when he's at home, he sleeps a lot, and I'm not supposed to bother him when he's resting so I d-don't get to see him too often. And Mommy and Daddy are always fighting, always yelling at each other about what to do... and now... now... we just found there's nothing that we can do, my big brother's going to die, and it hurts, Saria, it hurts, and I don't know what to do!"

A low moan of grief and pain escaped her lips, and then she was falling, collapsing to her knees with her arms outstretched, a look of broken desperation written on her features. Unable to help myself, my heart clenching uncomfortably at the sight of this pure innocent, so traumatised, I knelt beside her and pulled her into my arms, cradling her like a baby while she sobbed.

"Shh.." I soothed, running my fingers through her hair, noting absently how she nuzzled into me each time I did so. "Shhh, Adia jan, I've got you, sweetie, it's okay, I'm here..." Adia let out another sob, and I gently turned her so that her head was resting on my shoulder, muffling any noise she might make. I looked at the closed door, half expecting Javid or Faraya to come barging in and ask what was wrong. But no... No, they didn't care about the pain they'd caused their only daughter, too focused were they on their escalating argument. It fell to me, then, to provide the love and support that Adia needed. How ironic that I was the one doing this.

I rocked her back and forth, once more humming under my breath. "I'm so sorry, dear, I'm so sorry this is happening to you... I.. I don't know what to say." That last part was aimed more at myself than to her, but Adia didn't seem to notice. She just cuddled up against me, wetting my shoulder with her tears, while I whispered tender words of comfort into her ear, all the while wondering just how much this news would change our friendship.

After a few minutes, Adia settled down. She lifted her head off of my shoulder and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Thank you, Saria," she said, offering a watery smile. "You... you're a good friend." I fought off the urge to smile at that irony, instead responding with, "that's what I'm here for, Adia."

Adia took my hands in hers, looking me right in the eye. "Promise... promise me you won't tell anyone about what you learned today, Saria," she begged. "I swear I won't tell Mommy and Daddy that we were listening in, but... but they don't want anyone to know about Masood, and..." She trailed off, her lower lip wobbling. "Promise me, Saria."

"I promise, Adia," I whispered, and then I pulled her back in for another embrace, my chin resting on her head, closing my eyes as the events of today played again and again in my mind. This changed everything, and I couldn't help but to wonder if this tragedy might bring us closer, might help my own personal desires in the long run. Whatever the case, I made a silent vow to both myself and Adia, that from now on, I would do my level best to be there for her, no matter what. Yet mixed with that promise, was the one I had made to keep Adia's secret, and thinking of this made my stomach flip uncomfortably.

Between this and what I was hiding from Assef, there were now two secrets I had to keep, and I couldn't help but wonder if I would be able to do so...


Thank you for reading! My apologies for the delay in updating, I will try to get chapters out in a more timely manner from now on. Coming up next, Saria attempts to deal with what she just learned at Adia's house, but the discovery of Zainab's body, and the thought of an upcoming investigation brings her to a whole new level of fear. Look for that, coming up within the next month, two months at the latest, promise!