Author's Note: Previously, Saria spent the day at Adia's house. What started out as an ordinary day soon took a turn as she bore witness to a vicious fight between Faraya and Javid, soon learning that Masood is terminally ill - and being sworn to secrecy by Adia. Now, two days have passed and, unbeknownst to her, Saria is about to receive more harrowing news.

Thank you once again to those who read this story. I appreciate every single one of you, more than I can say. As always, please note that I do not condone the actions, thoughts, feelings and behaviours of the characters within this story - this is a work of fiction and should be taken as such.

Thank you! And without further ado, let's get to this chapter!


Sat on the edge of my Assef's bed, my gaze fluttered to and fro about his room. While it was normally far more messy than mine - for Assef did not have to deal with the scrutiny of our parents in quite the same way that I did (in part, I suspected, because they feared him), now it looked as though someone had taken an atomic bomb and detonated it here, and that there had been no survivors. The reason for this mess was thus - my brother was getting ready to attend soccer practice. He had been playing since he was a child - perhaps even before I was born - and one of the best in the district, if not the best. He recently switched to centre-forward (whatever that meant) earlier in the year, and had lead his team to victory on many occasions. I had borne witness to this as often as I could, for though I did not understand the game, nor did I care for it - it was my duty to cheer for my other half when necessary.

Assef walked to the bed, carrying one of his rucksacks in one hand, and his soccer equipment in the other. He sat beside me, and absently played with my hair for a moment, his lips twitching upwards slightly as I tilted my head towards him and smiled. The moment, blissful as it was, lasted naught but a second, before my darling pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, and pulled away, thus preparing everything that he would need for the day ahead. I watched him haphazardly shoving things into that rucksack, and couldn't help but find myself in deep reminiscence about the last time that one of us had been packing items into a bag. I remembered the anticipation, the trepidation, the raw anger that I felt as I packed away that which I had needed to end Zainab's life.

Of course, the only blood my dearest would be spilling today, if any at all, would be minor - and from injuries he gave to his unsuspecting team-mates. From time to time, I knew, pushing others over and ramming his shoulder into them, to knock them over, whenever he could get away with it - though never to the extent that he did with any opposing teams. Once, when I watched a match he'd been in, I saw him aggressively tackle a young boy so hard that he knocked him flat on his back on the ground. The referee had blown his whistle, and stormed onto the pitch, and I'd waited with baited breath to see if my darling would get into trouble, and sighing in relief when he managed, as he'd told me later, to expertly conceive the lie that it had been but a mere accident. I had been seated on the second row, and as Assef loomed over the boy who was to be his enemy on that day - and as our eyes met, and the world fell away, he smiled at me.

For it was violence that so often brought us together, forged in pain as we were. Whether that be the violence of sports, or the violence of murder.

Assef pulled up the zipper on the rucksack, and tossed to one side on the bed, before turning to face me. "I can see you thinking, Liebchen," he said, taking my hand in his. "Care to share what's on your mind?"

I shrugged absently, moving slightly closer to him. "Oh, nothing, really. I was just... reminiscing about the last time one us was packing a bag. You know... what we did that day. Seeing this," I gestured to the bag resting by our feet. "I can't help but to imagine a knife hidden in there."

"Is that so?" Assef teased, poking my nose playfully. "Well, I don't doubt my teammates would play to their best ability if they were faced with the threat of me stabbing them," he mused, looking pensive for a moment. "But don't worry, sweet sister, there's no way I'd ever dream of taking another life without my partner-in-crime by my side."

My cheeks flushed, and I ducked my head, letting my blonde curls fall over my face, so that my darling couldn't see the giddy smile that had come over my lips. Oh, how wonderful it was to know that he thought so highly of me. Of course, I knew subconsciously that Assef and I were partners-in-crime, united in everything we did, the Ahmed siblings against the universe. But to hear him say it? Even teasingly as he had done? Words cannot express the unbridled joy that made me feel.

And then... the memory washed over me again, of the raw power I'd felt from taking Zainab's life. The look of terror in her beady little eyes as I'd removed that knife from my pocket and dangled it in front of her, how she had gone from being bold as brass to cowering and grovelling on the floor - pleading for her life. The feeling of slicing flesh, knowing that at any moment I could've stopped at (possibly) spared her life, but having the courage to see the mission through to the end. The adrenaline rush that came with staring down at her lifeless, bloodied corpse, knife in my hand dripping her life's blood onto the wood panels.

I relayed these thoughts to my brother, for I knew he would not mock or pass judgement upon me for feeling this way. And indeed, as I spoke, I saw the look in his eyes, the shared lust for violence, for power, for vengeance - and I saw myself, too, reflected in his pupils, so tiny and yet so ruthless - goddess of death made flesh.

"It was one of the best days of my life, Liebchen," he said, with a wry smile. "Getting to see you enact your much-deserved vengeance upon one who had hurt you so badly. And seeing how you truly came into your own, how you didn't even flinch as you buried that blade into her flesh. Most people would cringe at the mere thought of murder, but you... the way you used that knife, as though it were an extension of your own hand, how merciless you were, oh, it transcended me to witness it, my beloved Saria, and it is a memory I replay often."

With that, Assef lifted my hand and raised it to his lips, placing a lingering kiss upon my knuckles. My cheeks flamed then, and again, I found myself ducking my head in embarrassment, though for only a moment, as my brother tilted my chin, and turned me back to face him, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. Again, I felt electrified by the look in his eyes. I wished, for a second, that he did not have to attend this soccer practice - for I found myself yearning that he might take me on another Just Because.

It had been so long, months in fact, since last we had taken to the streets of Kabul, armed with nothing but Assef's brass knuckles and a desire to cause pain. Oh, certainly we had hurt others in that time - Zainab and Farsef were proof of that - but the thrill of the hunt? The thrill of hurting someone who did not deserve it, but who happened merely to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Who's only crime was being a prime target? Chasing them down, cornering them, beating and humiliating them? Leaving them to grovel in the dirt? There could be no greater pleasure than that, and it made me feel a little downtrodden that we had not had this opportunity in all that time.

Then, another thought came to the forefront of my mind, one that I did not wish to contend myself with. The last person we attacked was Hassan. I shuddered inwardly, as I replayed that fateful day in my imagination. While I was doing what I might consider a stellar job at compartmentalising the memory of what my brother had actually... done... to the boy, I still felt an inordinate amount of awkwardness just thinking about it, as well as the guilt and shame that came with knowing I hadn't told Assef about the other person who had been there, spying on the... depraved act.

I shook my head imperceptibly, then, not enough for Assef to take any notice, but enough that I could clear the thoughts away; file them back into their little treasure chest within my brain and not deal with them again. There was no point in worrying, I had made my choice the day of the kite tournament to never breathe a word to Assef of what I had seen, of what I knew, and I was not about to confess something which I knew would cause a rift between us. And as for what he had done, much as it made me shudder to think of, I would not, no, I could not, let it taint the love and admiration I felt for my brother. He was my best and only true friend in this world, and no-one, most certainly not a lowly Hazara, would take that from me. From us.

Fortunately paying my inner turmoils no heed, Assef got to his feet and retrieved a pair of cleats and a jacket from his wardrobe. He pulled on the jacket, and the cleats he placed into the rucksack. He would change from the sneakers he was currently wearing into these when he arrived at training. Having thus gathered everything that he needed for the afternoon ahead, he zipped the bag up and tossed it over his shoulder, then glanced at the watch on his wrist. "It's nearly one," he said, "I ought to get going soon, training starts at half-past." He paused, and looked expectantly at me. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to come with? You can sit in the stands and watch..."

"I think I'll pass," I said, trying to sound as polite as possible about it. Much as I would always be there to support my brother when he played in a match, my interest in soccer did not extend quite so far that I would go with him to practice. A fact I'm sure he was well aware of, though it didn't stop him from trying to bring me along with him every time. "Besides," I said, with a light air, "I don't think your team-mates would like it so much if you brought your little sister along to practice, now, would they?"

"My team-mates will keep their mouths shut on the matter if they know what's good for them," Assef said threateningly, his eyes darkening at the thought of anyone treating his precious Saria with less than the reverence he expected the world to give me. Then he smiled, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, drawing me in close. He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I know that actually means you don't want to come along. I just... thought I'd give it a try." We smiled at each other for a moment, then Assef pulled away from me and offered me his hand. "Come on, let's get downstairs, I've at least a few more minutes to spare before I really need to leave."

Minutes, of course, that I knew he would spend by my side. Who was I to ever deny him that? And much as I did not wish to accompany him to his training, I would not deny myself those precious moments that I could have him with me until he was to depart. I placed my tiny hand gracefully in his, and together we walked into the hall - Assef shutting his bedroom door behind him - and began our descent of the staircase.

Into the kitchen we walked, Assef letting go of my hand as he went to get himself a glass of water. The house was quiet, and if you're thinking that's because our parents were away, you would be... well... partly correct. Mahmood had gone away, on what I assumed was another business venture. I neither know nor care what it was about, but it meant he would be away for at least the next few days. Par for the course, really. I saw less and less of my father nowadays, it would seem. But the curious thing about this particular business deal, was that, this time, Mahmood had not thought to bring his wife along. No, instead, Tanya had chosen to remain at home - for reasons unbeknown to me; while her husband was off shaking hands and making more friends in high places.

For a moment, I found myself wondering what Tanya would be doing today, now that her husband was out of the picture. Probably just sequestering herself within her room, I thought, rolling my eyes. It's not as if she felt understood how to interact with her son or daughter, outside of scolding us, or herding us to formal events like the sheep she wanted us to be. It would never cross her mind to spend even a second of time with me, even on a day when we were here alone. We would spend the afternoon in separate corners of the house, only interacting when the need would arise. Good, I thought, I don't want to be bothered by the fucking harpy, anyway. What would there be for us to talk about? She'd only spend our time together quizzing me about school, or berating me regarding this, that, or the other thing. No, fuck that, much better I just avoid her at all costs.

Assef finished his drink, and tossed the empty glass into the sink. It clinked against the other dishes in there - Hamilra would be cleaning that up later. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and I pictured how Tanya would have glared at him had she seen that. Yet again, I found myself glad that she was not here - though I knew that, even if she was, she probably wouldn't have berated my brother in the same way that she did with me. While she did expect him to make an effort when attending formal events, on the occasions that we did, she wouldn't be scrutinising his appearance for something as basic as soccer training. My brother was lucky in that regard.

"I should get going," Assef mused, and though he addressed me, he wasn't looking at me. I followed his gaze to the clock on the wall, and saw that it read '1.05'. Ah, yes. It would take him about fifteen or so minutes to get to training, and I knew his coach would probably berate him for any delays, which was the last thing he needed. He motioned for me to come to him, opening his arms as I did so. Without a second thought, I threw my arms around my brother's and hugged him, breathing him in. Assef placed a hand on the back of my head and gently stroked my hair, closing his eyes. For a moment that I wished would last forever, we just held each other, with neither one wanting to let the other go.

Alas, time did not respect our wishes, and as such, my brother sadly needed to pull away from me. As he did so, he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of my head, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "I'll be back this evening, dear Saria," he said, with a twinge of regret in his voice, as if he felt guilty that his training would last that long. And I did find myself wishing that he didn't have to leave - selfish as that may seem. Much as I knew my brother needed his own hobbies, needed time to himself, it still pained me even the tiniest bit away to be away from him. "Know that I'll be thinking of you whilst I am gone."

"And I you, my dearest brother," I replied. With that said, Assef straightened the bag upon his shoulder, nodded to me one final time, and walked out the kitchen door. I turned, making my way to the kitchen table. Pulling out a chair, I gracefully lowered myself into it, just as the front door clicked shut. Assef was already half-way down the drive now, and here I was, left alone with nothing to do with myself for the day. Was I starting to regret not going along with him? Well... I wouldn't say exactly that... but the thought did cross my mind that today would be rather lonely and... boring... for me in his absence.

I placed my chin in my hands, sighing as I turned my attention from the kitchen door and glanced out the window at the back garden. Snow covered the ground, as we were still in the midst of winter. After giving it a minute or two of thought, I decided to make my way outside, if even just to sit in the quiet and be alone with my thoughts - for heaven knows I had many of them. Rising to my feet once more, I walked to the back door, and, after fumbling with the lock for a moment or so, it opened with a click, and I stepped outside.

As I walked across the ground, my shoes squelching in the melting ice, I couldn't help but to shiver at how bitingly cold the wind was. It stung at my face, making my eyes water. I was only wearing a knee-length blue dress and tights, and though the dress was long-sleeved, it wasn't exactly the type of clothing that really suited this type of weather.

Yet I continued on, trudging through the snow, ignoring the cold, ignoring the goosebumps I could feel on my arms, even through the sleeves on my dress. Assef would no doubt be fretting over me if he saw me without a coat, and would probably bring me right back inside to put one on. For a moment, I considered doing just that. I could hear his voice in my head, urging me to wrap up. 'You'll catch your death out there without a coat, Liebchen,' I pictured him saying. He was always so very protective of me.

But then... if I did go upstairs, I knew I faced the risk of running into Tanya - who would probably have twenty questions for me about what I was doing, why was I going out into the back garden, didn't I have better things to be doing? Then, she would no doubt find something better - in her eyes - for me to occupy my time with. Which would be some rather tedious chores, and I'd much rather not waste my afternoon on those, thank you very much. So, I decided, I would brave the cold and carry on. Besides, what my brother didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

I made my way to the veranda, and pulled out one of the chairs there, wincing as it scraped loudly across the ground. I sat down, drumming my fingers absently on the table, humming under my breath. All around me, snow continued to fall, blanketing the garden in white. It was a beautiful sight. I've always admired snow, regardless of how cold it may be. For its quiet beauty, its purity. How it covered even the ugliest parts of the world and made them look just... perfect. Everywhere just seemed... better... when coated with a thick blanket of snow. Plus, I thought, with a coy little smirk, snow also meant winter, and winter meant the school holidays - which any child adored, did they not?

Although... those holidays would be over next week, and I would have to return to school, much as I might not have wanted to. Which meant long days in class, homework, studying, and being thought of as the 'sweetest little girl' by the mullahs while the other children took it upon themselves to avoid me like the plague. They had always found me to a bit... off, I knew, despite my efforts to charm them. Perhaps it was on the orders of stupid brats like Zainab that they ignored me, for she had disliked me from the start. I won't deny that being so ostracised was an uncomfortable, and lonely feeling.

Well... at least this time, I would have one friend with me. Now that I had Adia, things would be different - I was sure of it. For all these years, I had neglected to realise that a potential friend, a potential obedient lackey of my own lay within my midst. All that time watching my Assef cultivate his friendships with Wali and Kamal, not knowing that I too could have had that opportunity. If there was anything good to come out of the disastrous dinner with the Kalaharis, it was that I had met Adia.

Never again would I be alone or ostracised in school. Never again would I be the strange blonde girl with no friends. Never again would I feel powerless as I walked through those halls. Adia would provide me with the sense of control and safety that I so badly yearned for. She would sit beside me in class, would pair up with me in group projects, play with me during recess and eat her lunch with me, too. With any luck, and a bit of careful training, she would prove to be a loyal and obedient friend. In fact, just thinking of how much she could do for me, made me wish I had met and tried to cultivate this friendship with her earlier.

But my reasons for thinking this way weren't entirely selfish, after all. Not only would Adia provide me with eternal obedience, I would offer her all that she could desire in return. I would be a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, someone with whom she could divulge her darkest secrets without the slightest fear of judgement. I would stand up for her with raging ferocity if anyone (aside from my darling Assef) tried to hurt her. Never would there be a girl more protected in the school yard than Adia Kalahari.

All these thoughts, all of these feelings for Adia that circulated within my mind, and, there was one thing that I could not stop thinking of. One thought that had been on my mind since that last play-date I'd had at the Kalahari's. I replayed the events in my head over and over. The viscous argument that I had overheard between the usually mild-mannered Javid and sweet, motherly Faraya. How they had thrown cruel, harsh words together the likes of which would have shocked me to my core had I not been used to such conduct within my own family.

The cause of their fight, however, had shocked me. Try as I might to not be affected by it, I couldn't help myself. To think that Masood was dying. Masood, who was only a child, just like me, had a terminal illness and wasn't going to live to reach adulthood. He wouldn't even live to finish high school - a daunting prospect in my eyes, for it hammered home just how serious the matter was. Did he know, I wondered, the morbid thought rising to the forefront before I could prevent it. Did he know what was happening? He must have known that he was sick, of course, but did he comprehend the vast reality? Had his parents sat him down and told him that he was dying? God, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.

How much time did he have left? How many breaths would he be able to take in this world before he would take his last? How many months, weeks, days, minutes, seconds did he have to spend with his friends and family? How long before he became a rotting husk in the ground, his only use being to provide sustenance for the worms and maggots?

What a terrifying prospect that would be, to know that every breath you drew could be your last. To feel yourself getting weaker and weaker as the days dragged on - and to see the reactions of your loved ones as they watched this happen to you. Did Masood know how much stress he was putting his family under? Did he know of the fights his parents were having on his behalf? Did he ever hear them, I mused, hear the words they berated each other with, and know that it was about him? Did he see how haggard and run-down his mother looked, see how his father wanted to throw in the towel and give up on him? Did he see the pain in his little sister's eyes...? And did he feel guilty for it?

He should, I thought, with a fervent determination, as I recalled just how broken little Adia had been the last time we'd seen one another. I know, I know, it's not Masood's fault that he's sick - nor did he ask for this. But I cared for Adia; she was the only friend I had besides my other half. I may never love her with the same singularity with which I loved my Assef, but there was something in me that felt something for her. A kinship. And when you feel for someone, even the tiniest of feelings, it can be hard to watch them suffer.

I remembered the pain in her eyes, how she had struggled to get the words out. How she had collapsed into me, craving the warmth of my embrace, so desperate for affection that she had sought it from the person who had attacked her on multiple occasions and burned her on one of them. Was that the first time she had told someone of how she felt? The first time someone held her and reassured her that all would be well, that it was okay to feel her emotions and express them as she needed?

How lonely that dear girl must be. Even in her own home, she had nobody. Her parents were too busy arguing to notice her, and she couldn't very well talk to her brother about his own impending doom, now, could she? I may have been the victim of neglectful and abusive parents, but at least I had Assef to be there for me. Without my guiding light, I don't know what I would have done. How I would have coped in this world. Adia didn't even have that - and soon, she would be losing her brother. She must feel so profoundly abandoned by all who were meant to care for her.

My eyes stung, and I reached a hand up to wipe away the snowflakes that had fallen upon my cheeks. I tilted my head up towards the brilliant blue sky, and imagined what the world might be like if my problems did not exist. A world without Mahmood and Tanya, without pain, without the fear of beatings, without having to act perfect and demure. A world where Hazaras like Hassan could be wiped from existence, just like Assef always told me they should be. A world fully within my control, where only the worthy would be permitted access.

Assef, of course, would rule by my side - every queen needs her king, after all. Adia would be there, protected from any suffering, and all would know of my compassion for her. She would be forever moulded into the perfect friend that I knew she could be. And Amir, too, would be part of this world. Once we got rid of Hassan, he could be trained to be the perfect husband; someone who loved me more than anything or anyone in the universe, and who would defend me with merciless ferocity against anyone who dared to do me harm.

Yes, all would be perfect in my new world order, and it was with this thought that my eyes slipped closed, my head lolled against my chest, and I nodded off into what was to be a restful nap. While it lasted.

"Saria, Saria!"

Someone was jostling me, their hand shaking my arm. Long nails pinched through the fabric of my dress and onto my skin, making me flinch involuntarily. Damn it, I was just in the middle of what happened to be a very pleasant dream, and now somebody was bothering me? I almost wanted to ignore them, but they gave another, more desperate exclamation of "Saria!" and I knew I couldn't. Eyes still groggy with sleep, I turned my head to face whoever was grabbing at me, and found myself looking into the piercing blue eyes... of my mother.

My heart sank, and for a moment, I just stared at her, lips trying to speak while no sound came out. That moment lasted only a nanosecond, though, and I was thankfully able to gather enough sense to realise what I needed to do. What Tanya would want from me, her obedient little porcelain doll. I leapt to my feet, holding my skirt by my sides as I lowered myself into a deep and, at least to Tanya's eyes, reverent curtsy, keeping my gaze focused on the ground.

"My sincerest apologies, Mama, I forgot myself," I said, hoping to placate her by expressing regret before she could begin scolding me. Yet as I remained there, knees bent and head bowed, feeling more like I was in the presence of a queen rather than my mother - who should not have required this level of deference from her own daughter - I couldn't help but to wonder just why she was here. What had I done that was so wrong that she had left her room to trudge across the snow covered ground and speak with me?

For that was the only explanation I could give for Tanya being here. She wouldn't have bothered to come out for just a friendly chat, nor because she was concerned I might be cold. No, the logic and basis of our relationship dictated that I must have done sinned in some way or another. Was it because I didn't inform her that I was going outside? Was there a stain on my dress? No, no, how could she have seen that from as far away as the house? But then... what? What had I done? Or... not done? Had she been expecting me to complete the washing up? Which was Hamilra's job, mind you, but Tanya always impressed on me how important it was for a young lady to be able to perform basic household tasks.

Whatever the issue was, I could only hope that it wasn't serious enough to warrant an "appointment with the belt". While that usually meant being whipped by Mahmood - as he had done the first time I met Adia - during times when he was away, Tanya had no qualms about stepping up to the plate and using her own favourite belt; one made of thin, rope-like fabric that stung like hell when it bit into my defenceless flesh. How it gave me goosebumps just to think of it. My thighs quivered, and I prayed that I might hold this curtsy, knowing I would be in for it big time if I embarrassed Tanya by collapsing sideways to the ground, as I now imagined myself doing.

Before this could happen, however, Tanya did something that both confused and surprised me. With a far gentler hand than she had previously jostled me with, she took hold of my elbow and guided me back into an upright position. This was my first clue that something was off. Tanya never raised me from a curtsy. Never. The most she would do was tell me 'You may rise' in that imperious tone that made me believe she'd held onto a princess fantasy that most women grew out of at the age of, oh, I don't know... ten?

She'd never lifted me herself, though. And certainly never had she touched me with such gentleness as she just did. I had expected that I would have to remain frozen in place for a considerable time longer than I had. Tanya had drilled the importance of these humiliating acts of submission into me from the moment I could stand, after all. I knew she enjoyed seeing me act with such humility in her presence, so why now would she put an end to it? Why was she lifting me up when she had spent so many years bringing me down? Was it just a random act of out-of-character kindness, or was something more sinister afoot?

"Saria," Tanya's uncharacteristically kind voice interrupted me again, and I raised my gaze to look at her. The expression on her face caught me immediately off-guard, for it was one I had never seen her wear before. Her lips were set in a thin yet quivering line, her eyes, usually so devoid of any true compassion, shone with unshed tears. In an instant, my mind flew right into panic mode. Tanya... crying. Tanya... upset. Something's wrong. Those words echoed in my brain, and I found myself worrying what had happened. Was someone hurt? Had something happened to Mahmood on his business trip? Had... dear God... dear heavens, no... had something happened to Assef?

The horrifying prospect hit me before I could stop it. What if my brother had been injured during soccer practice? What if he'd not even made it to practice and been injured en-route? What if... what if something else had happened to him? I know, Assef's well capable of taking care of himself - but that didn't stop my overanxious brain from panicking that he might've been hurt or... worse... somehow. I almost wanted to shake Tanya, to demand she tell me what had gotten her into this weird state, but I knew that doing so would only serve to hinder my cause further.

Tanya cleared her throat. "I need to speak with you, daughter," she said, and for once, the stern formality in her voice was a blissful relief to hear. There she was. That's the mother I knew. The mother who didn't treat me with gentleness, or raise me from a curtsy, or look at me as though she were about to cry. And, much as I hated her, there was safety in the familiar. This Tanya I knew. This Tanya, I could deal with. "It's important, and you need to come inside with me. Immediately." With that, she turned on her heel and began walking away, leaving me standing, utterly confused, in her wake.

What does she want to talk to me about? I fretted internally, wondering just what could have happened for her to be so desperate to talk with me. What was so important that it couldn't have waited until I went inside of my own accord? With these thoughts circulating in my mind, I began to hurriedly make my way through the snow behind Tanya. The ground was a little slippery under my feet, but I hurried along as fast as I could, not wanting to incur Tanya's wrath by being too slow.

Eventually, I caught up to her, and we continued our trek back into the house, side-by-side. Neither of us spoke, perhaps neither wanted to. I wished that I could read Tanya's mind, that I could pry into her brain and, after taking it apart, piece by piece, gain inside knowledge into just what it was that had her so frazzled today. I would know why she didn't seem to care about my deference, why she looked harrowed, why she was speaking to me with a tenderness that was unsettling to hear.

Oh, but ignorance was bliss, and soon I'd come to regret this wish. But as of this moment, my thoughts were focused solely on knowing what was on her mind. I was so curious, in fact, that I even considered asking Tanya outright what was wrong. And maybe, had we been another mother and daughter, had our relationship in any way lend itself to such a conversation, I would have done so. But with asking that, came with the risk of being slapped and told not to be so 'disrespectful'. That she would tell me on her terms, and not mine. So instead, I kept quiet and just walked along beside her, my eyes lowered and my countenance remaining as subservient as possible.

As we reached the back door, which I noted that Tanya had left open, in her... haste... to get across the yard to me, she did something else that was completely out-of-character for her. Something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. She took my hand. The feeling was so utterly foreign to me, that I almost jolted, as though I'd been electrocuted. I wanted to look around to see if there was anyone looking at us over the high walls of our compound.

Said person would need to have a giraffe neck, but being watched was the only explanation I could give as to why Tanya had now deigned it acceptable to hold my hand. She only ever performed such acts of motherly affection when other people were around - so that she could keep up appearances, and because it gave her a sense of pride to think of how people would talk about how good a mother she was, how affectionate, and oh, what a darling little girl she had. It was rare that she ever showed this love to me when we were alone - unless... unless something was wrong, or she felt guilty for something. Or she was attempting to manipulate me.

What was it, though? Clearly, there was nobody actually looking over the walls... which lead me to think that something must be wrong. She needed to talk to me, because there was something off, but I couldn't quite think of what. Or maybe, and this was the more likely outcome, I didn't want to think of it. Curiosity was waning now, leaving a firm desire to be left alone. It was only through my fear of what would happen if I let go, that I kept holding my mother's hand, though my grip remained as loose as possible.

I looked up at Tanya, my face expressionless. Glancing down at me, her lips twitched into what I could only assume was meant to be a sweet smile, but that, in my eyes, looked more like a grimace. It was the smile of a person who needed to relay bad news to a very young child, and who was trying their best not to alarm them. Fortunately for me, I have been well-trained in playing the game of manipulation, and I was able to return Tanya's smile with one of my own.

She gave me another strange look that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, then stepped over the threshold and back into the house. I followed close behind - unable to do anything else, what with her clutching my hand the way she was. Across the kitchen we walked, my eyes drawn to the seat I had vacated earlier. How long had passed since those blissful moments I'd stood wrapped in my darling's embrace? How long since I'd felt the warm safety of his arms encircling me? Why, oh why, had I not chosen to go with him to his soccer practice when he'd offered? Why must I have been so fucking stubborn and insisted on remaining behind? Was I not paying the price for it now? And lo, what a hefty price it would be, as I was soon to discover.

Tanya led me further into the house, muttering something under her breath. I strained to hear what she was trying to say, but was unable to. She kept on walking, and I trudged along beside her, my palm sweaty in her own. Eventually, we made it to the living room, and Tanya finally let go of my hand. Placing a hand on my back, she ushered me inside. I stepped inside, feeling, for reasons yet unknown, as though I were a death row patient entering the room wherein I would face the firing squad. When Tanya shut the door behind her with click, that feeling only increased.

"Please, daughter, take a seat," she said, gesturing to the sofa. It felt as though I were a guest in my own home, with Tanya attempting to be the gracious host. I walked slowly, hoping she wouldn't notice how my legs trembled as I did so, over to the sofa, and graciously lowered myself down upon it, my legs crossed daintily at the ankle, my hands folded in my lap, eyes lowered submissively to gaze at my lap. Since I did not know what was going on, just yet, I figured that adhering to the strict rules that Tanya expected of me was the best way to go.

Tanya sat down across from me - far closer than was necessary or comfortable - and placed her hand on my own. That, I understood, was a signal for me to look at her. I raised my eyes, keeping that look of deference plastered on my face as I gazed at my mother, who looked more concerned than I was comfortable with. "Saria," she began, in the same tone that one uses when speaking to a much younger child. "This won't be an easy conversation for us to have, and I so dearly wish that I didn't have to discuss this topic with you, most certainly not when you are so young. But, sadly, this is the nature of the world we live in." She took a deep breath. "Saria... do you remember the little girl in your class, Zainab? The child who went missing some time ago?"

My brain, perhaps in some last ditch attempt to protect me from what I was about to learn, blocked out all understanding of what Tanya was talking about. Of course, I knew who Zainab was, I knew that she was 'missing', and in the back of my mind, I could recall sitting on this same exact sofa, listening to the news reporter talk about Zainab having gone missing, and the search that was underway to find her. But I just couldn't wrap my head around why Tanya would be asking me about her now.

There was no time to wax poetic on this, however, as Tanya was looking at me expectantly, and I knew I would have to answer her. I nodded, once, then spoke. "Yes, Mama, I remember. She was on the radio." I kept my speech simple and deferential, the way that a good, obedient daughter would. I didn't go further into the details, for I feared the consequences of saying more. And how intrigued I now was, to learn more about what she had to say.

"That's right, darling," Tanya smiled, and I felt my stomach make yet another uncomfortable clench. Darling. It felt so awkward, so wrong, for her to address me as such. I wasn't her 'darling', nor would I ever be. For a long moment, one that felt like an eternity, we just looked at one another, neither knowing what to say. Perhaps neither wanting this conversation to go on. But continue it must, and Tanya was the first to speak again.

She spoke in a slow, deliberate tone of voice, as though she did not wish to get the words out. "Well... I was up in my room," she began, fiddling with her fingers in a rather un-Tanya like fashion, "listening to the radio, as I do sometimes whilst your father is away, and I happened to overhear some truly, harrowing, and unsettling news."

I didn't answer. Nay, I couldn't answer. To respond would be to give credence to what Tanya was saying, to give her the opportunity to speak up and confirm the horror that my mind was now filled with. I just looked at her for a moment, before the tears welling in her eyes were too much for me to bear, and I averted my gaze back to my lap. Please, I begged internally, please be quiet. Please don't say what I think you're going to say.

But my pleas went unheeded, and Tanya spoke again. "The police..." she began, lacing her fingers together and taking a deep breath. "They've been searching for that little girl for weeks now. And... they... they..." Her eyes watered, and she had to look away from me. "She..." I could see the gears working in her head, could almost hear her thoughts, asking herself how to relay this information to a twelve-year-old girl. Eventually, she must have decided to just bite the bullet, as the saying goes, and tell me the unfiltered truth. "Her body was found two days ago, Saria. She was, oh God help me, she was murdered."

The room began spinning. A strange flicker of light formed over my eyes, first the left one, then the right one, and, as I looked down at my lap, I found it difficult to even see my fingers. Everything was blurry, and I could feel my brain pounding against my own head, as if it were trying desperately to shut itself off, to stop the thoughts, to stop myself from thinking about what Tanya had just said. Zainab had been found. Zainab had been identified. They knew that Zainab had been murdered.

I felt myself swaying, and I had to plant myself firmly into the seat to stop myself from toppling off and landing on the floor. How suspicious would that have looked? For me to be seen to react so strongly to the death of a person that I, in Tanya's eyes, barely even knew. But it was hard, so hard, to keep myself composed. Bile rose in my throat, burning my oesophagus, and for what was the longest second of my life, I feared I might throw up right into Tanya's lap.

This can't be real, my mind was screaming at me, this can't be true. No, no! They weren't supposed to find her... Assef and I worked so hard to cover our tracks... how... how could they... oh God, this can't be happening! This can't be! This has to be some sort of nightmare, yes, that's it. All I need to do is close my eyes and when I wake up, none of this will have happened. Zainab will be in her rightful place, buried in the dirt, and Tanya won't be looking at me with that concern on her face. I shut my eyes and counted to three, praying that when I opened them again, my deepest wish would have come true.

Alas, we do not live in such a fairy-tale world, and wishes are naught but a foolish trick used to shield gullible children from the harsh reality of this awful world. I opened my eyes again, and the relief I felt that my vision was no longer blurred soon dissipated as I came to the harrowing realisation that I was still in the living room, not safe in mine or Assef's bed as I'd hoped to be, and that Tanya was still there, her eyes locked onto me, assuaging my reaction.

She wanted me to speak, I realised, and that was an unsettling concept to get around. How was I supposed to respond to this? What was I meant to say? How was I meant to react to news like this? I took a deep breath, clasping my hands together, and, as I exhaled, I made the choice to play things as innocently as possible. In the smallest, most confused voice I could muster, I said; "I... I don't understand, Mama. Someone... someone hurt Zainab? Who?"

There was a method behind asking this, of course. I wanted to know if the police had any leads on catching the murder. Was there anyone they had in mind as a potential suspect? Any shred of evidence that might lead them to even consider the possibility that Assef or I might've been involved? If that was the case, then my brother and I would need to do some serious damage control - whatever that may be. And if there were no suspects, well then, I could work out the next phase of the plan.

"Yes, Saria, someone hurt Zainab." Tanya's voice was now at an even more condescending pitch; clearly my innocent facade was at least getting through to her, even if only on a superficial level. "Someone hurt her very badly, and she died because of it." I didn't respond, and she got to her feet, crossing to the radio that stood upon the mantle-piece. "The news may still be talking about it," she mused, perhaps more to herself than to me, not that I was going to answer her anyway. Tanya fiddled with the dials, and the radio crackled to life, distorted words coming from its speakers as she tried to reach the correct channel. At one point, it appeared as though she'd gotten it, but then music began playing, and, with a sigh of frustration, Tanya continued her search.

Finally, after much turning back and forth of the dials, Tanya reached the station that she was looking for. The news channel. She turned up the volume, and mouthed for me to listen. And listen, I did.

A man was speaking. I didn't recognise his voice, so he clearly wasn't the same newscaster who originally reported on Zainab's disappearance. He had been speaking about something else - I don't recall, nor do I care to - but soon, his focus turned to Zainab, much as I wished that it wouldn't. But, it seemed this was happening, and all I could do was sit up straight, and listen intently as the newscaster spoke the words that brought a crushing reality to my inner fears.

"We continue with the breaking news story of the day. For those who may not yet be aware, we have been authorised to provide details regarding the body found two days ago. Police have confirmed that this is, in fact, the body of twelve-year-old Zainab Niazai, who was reported missing earlier this year. A diligent search was put underway by detectives, who combed the lengths of the city in their attempts to find the young girl."

If only they weren't successful, I thought, my shoulders slumped in dejection. How much simpler my life would be if that were the case. I glanced up at Tanya, who was still standing by the radio, staring pointedly at it, as if it was the newscaster's fault that Zainab was dead. The man continued to speak, oblivious to the panic that I was feeling as I listened to his every word.

"At three-thirty pm, this Tuesday past, Zainab's body was discovered. She had been wrapped in plastic bags, and thrown into a shallow grave that had been dug in a barren patch of land, near to a creek."

Thrown into a shallow grave. Excuse me. My brother had been extremely cautious when disposing of that carcass, far more so than she deserved. I almost snorted in derision when the idiot newscaster said that, but managed to resign myself to merely rolling my eyes when Tanya's gaze was not on me.

"She appears to have suffered from multiple deep stab wounds, though police also report that bruising has been found on the girl's skull, and so no exact cause of death has been determined yet. However, we can confirm that this death is being treated as highly suspicious, and police have stated that they are doing everything they can to identify the culprit and bring the person responsible for this crime to justice. Citizens of Kabul are being urged to take extra caution, especially when it comes to the welfare of their children, and to contact the local police department if they have any information that they think may help this case."

The newscaster then began speaking of another matter, I neither know nor care what. And, it appeared, neither did Tanya. She turned the dials to "off" and walked back to sit beside me again. I didn't move, didn't even look at her. I couldn't. My body was frozen, like the porcelain dolls I so often resembled. My mind, however, oh, that was working overtime, each thought more panicked than the last.

Hearing that news report made me feel sick. It was so gruesome, yet so matter of fact. Of course, the blood and gore mattered not to me, as I had been the one to cause them. But... as I sat there, almost glued to the sofa, with Tanya next to me, I began putting myself in the shoes of a typical Kabuli citizen. A person who had not yet reached mine or Assef's level of enlightenment, and therefore would not comprehend that sometimes, murder is necessary. Someone who would hear about the death of an 'innocent' twelve-year-old girl and be filled with rage towards the person, or persons, responsible. For no matter how awful Zainab was, no matter what a bully she had been, not only to me but undoubtedly to other girls in the neighbourhood, too, no matter how much she had deserved what she got; there would still be people out there who wouldn't believe that. People who would hear that she'd been stabbed and thrown away like trash and want to see the perpetrators punished to the highest degree.

The idea that an investigation into the murder was underway, even now, even as I sat here, numbed by the discovery, made me feel sick. The police would be combing every nook and cranny, looking into every possible lead. Doing everything in their power to ensure that Zainab's killer would be brought to justice. And the justice that people would desire, why, that would be nothing short of the most severe and merciless.

What would that mean, for me? For Assef? Was there any possible way, even in the slightest, that my brother and I could be implicated in this? This had been our very first murder; what if we had been sloppy? What if we'd left a piece of evidence behind? I knew nothing of the depths to which the police could conduct an investigation - say, if whatever technology, no matter how basic, may be employed to help them discover just who, exactly, was responsible? And I knew, cognitively, that any technology used in the seventies would be incredibly simplistic, but I was in panic mode; and Saria in panic mode didn't quite think straight or coherently.

As more bile rose in my throat, and I once again grappled with feelings of light-headedness, I told myself to remain calm. You cannot let yourself lose control now, Saria, I chided. Think of your mother, sitting beside you. Can't you feel her eyes on you? Can't you tell that she's scrutinising your every move? Any movement out of place, even the slightest implication that I was anything less than collected, and she would suspect something, would she not? She would know that something was wrong; and then... then she would barrage me for information.

"Daughter." Tanya's voice broke me out of my reverie, though I still didn't turn to look at her. "Saria, I know... I know..." Each word came out through a stuttering quiver, as if she were about to cry at any minute. "Will you look at me, please?" How odd that was, to hear her speak to me with such respect. To make a request of me, rather than an order. It was as if Zainab's murder had somehow knocked an entirely new personality into her, one that I wasn't quite sure I liked.

"Please, Saria," Tanya said again, the desperation in her voice more pronounced. "Will you please, please look at me?" I turned, then, for I had no other choice. Tanya's eyes were swimming with tears, and she blinked rapidly to stop them from spilling down her cheeks. Were I the type of person to hold unlimited empathy, I might have reached out to offer comfort to my mother, but as it stands, my levels of compassion were severely limited, and Tanya did not fall into the category of being worthy to experience them. All I could do was wait for her to speak again.

She pursed her lips, and I could tell that she was trying to figure out what to say. Trying to figure out how to continue this frankly dark discussion. "I know it's a terrible, terrible thing to hear," she said, motioning towards the radio. "Frankly, I didn't believe it myself, when the news first came over the airwaves. And I apologise, daughter, if listening to that newscast frightened you." What an ironic thing to apologise for, and to me of all people! "I just wanted... I wanted you to truly comprehend the severity of what happened."

I nodded, not sure if I ought to respond, or if Tanya even wanted me to be an active participant in this discussion. But she continued on unabated, so that must not have been the case. "That poor, dear little girl... I kept hoping, praying, that she would be found alive. That she would be able to return home safely to her family." Her voice became forlorn and almost... wistful... as she said this, a low exhale escaping from her lips. "Poor, dear girl. I can't imagine the fear she must have gone through in her final moments."

Well, I don't need to 'imagine' it, I mused internally, I can merely close my eyes and relive the memory. I know she was frightened, I heard her beg for her life. I saw the fear in her eyes, saw the life drain from them. I let the memory wash over me for a moment, allowing the divine adrenaline that I had felt on that day to bring me to a state of calm, which I knew I would need to make it through the rest of this conversation. When I felt able to return to reality, I opened my mouth and gave a practised, measured response.

"It's very sad, Mama," I said, in what I like to call my 'little girl' voice. "I feel... I feel awful for poor Zainab and her family."

"You have a good heart, Saria jan," Tanya complimented me, and I almost laughed at the irony of her words. If only she knew! "I can't imagine what that girl's family are going through. And her friends at school... what must they be thinking, hearing this horrendous news? Knowing that their friend suffered such a dreadful fate." She paused, then, and looked at me. "You... did you know her, Saria? Were you one of her friends?"

She placed a hand on mine, as she said this, and I almost jolted from the unpleasant feeling that came with having this usually abusive woman act so gentle with me. As I've stated before, her strange behaviour was perhaps one of the most frightening part of all of this. Had she not already asked me if Zainab and I were friends, way back when the news first broke of her disappearance? Did she suspect me? Did she know, mother's intuition, that I'd had something to do with it? Did she know about the murder weapon; the knife that I'd hidden under loose floorboards in my room?

And was she planning to report me to the police? To report my brother, too? For if she suspected me, then clearly, she would suspect Assef, too. And she would want us both to suffer for what we had done. Tanya had always detested seeing how close my brother and I were, had always wanted to separate us, but to no avail. Accusing us of murder, however, would get both of her children out of her life, permanently. Maybe that's why she was so gentle with me. Part of her might have felt guilt that she would be handing us over to the authorities, and thus she wanted to show me a little kindness before this happened.

I shook my head. "I didn't know her personally," I said. "She was in my class at school, and sometimes I greeted her in passing, but we weren't friends or anything like that." Greeting Zainab in passing, of course, usually boiled down to her shoving me in the hallways when nobody was looking, and calling me a 'German freak', and me telling her to piss off, but I decided not to bring Tanya up to speed on that. Not when the fear that she might already suspect me of this murder was circulating in my head like a looped song on a record player.

But how could she? How could she truly believe that I would be capable of such a thing? To her, I was the picture-perfect daughter, the subservient and obedient child who bowed her head in supplication and did as she was told. I said please, and thank you, deferred to my 'betters', and kept both myself and my room neat and tidy. The Saria Ahmed that Tanya saw was vastly different from my true self, and thus, it seemed almost foolish to believe that she would even conceive of the idea that I might be behind something so harrowing. At least, that is the mantra by which I tried to reassure myself.

And it seemed that my prayers might indeed be answered as Tanya spoke next. "All the same... to know that this happened to one of your classmates, it must be very frightening." She patted my hand. "Now, Saria, I need you to think carefully before you answer this next question. It's very important, and may help the police to find and catch the person who hurt that little girl. Have you seen or heard anything suspicious lately? Anything that may stick out in your mind? Any-"

I cut across her, an action that she would normally scold me mightily for, but that she opted to ignore this time; a testament to how much these events must have truly shaken her up. "No, Mama. I haven't seen anything like that. Everything has just been... well, normal... nothing out of the ordinary."

"Are you sure?" Tanya pressed, her gaze boring into mine with such an intensity that I was almost cowed under it. "Your father and I have always taught you the importance of being aware of your surroundings, did we not? To be able to tell when someone is behaving in a way that arouses suspicion? Don't be lackadaisical in your response, now. Have you seen anyone that looks out of place? Even in the months prior to this... event. Was there anyone hanging around outside the school gate, anyone talking to the girls there? Anyone who looked as though they shouldn't be there. I promise you, Saria jan, you won't get in any trouble for being candid with me. I just want to know... you understand how important it is for everyone to do their part in helping to make this city a safe place, don't you? Now, you tell Mommy... have you seen anyone suspicious?"

Dear God, would she not leave me alone? Why was she asking me all these fucking questions?! What was this, why was she playing the "cop card"? Did she think she was helping the situation at all? My mind was already running at a billion miles per minute, each thought more horrendous and dire than the last. After all, look at this from my perspective; I had just learned that there was a police investigation into a murder that I'd committed, and here my abusive mother sat, giving me the third degree about it.

I wanted nothing more than to rage and scream against the world. Fuck decorum, fuck behaving like the perfect lady, fuck being an obedient daughter! I wanted to throw myself onto the floor, pounding my little fists against the carpet and screaming until my lungs burst, like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. I wanted to seize Tanya by the hair and bash her head in, to take her life as I had taken Zainab's. That would prevent her from asking me these inane questions!

Alas, I could not vent my frustrations in such a manner. Now more than ever, I needed to behave properly. After all, it was not only my neck on the line, but Assef's too. He was not here to speak in his own defence, not here to provide me with any assistance, thus it fell to me to guide Tanya's opinion on the matter as far away from us as was humanly possible. I racked my brain, trying to think of someone who might fit Tanya's definition of suspicious, but I couldn't put my finger on anybody. The only person who came to mind was Hassan's father, Ali, but I knew that if I pointed the finger at him, Jansher Quadiri would throw his entire weight behind getting his servants the legal help they would need for such a trial. So I was left without a scapegoat, but that didn't mean I couldn't try to sway my mother's sympathies in my direction.

"I haven't seen anyone like that, Mommy," I muttered. It was rare that I ever addressed her as such, but when one is trying to be as cute and charming as possible, one employs whatever measures that they can. "Nobody's ever talked to me at the school gate, or to any of the other girls, as far as I can recall." I paused, musing over my options for what to say next. "Do you think that... that the bad person who did this to Zainab... that they might... do this again?" My voice cracked as I spoke, more from the stress than from any underlying terror, but that didn't mean I couldn't use it to my own advantage.

The fear in my voice must have tugged on my mother's heartstrings, to some extent, for she squeezed my hand and gently brushed a lock of stray hair behind my ear. "I don't know, Saria," she murmured, running her free hand over her face. "I really don't know. The type of person who would do something like this..." She trailed off, maybe coming to the realisation that her response might frighten me even more. "But you can rest assured that the police will be working overtime to make sure that whoever did this is brought to justice. They'll be speaking to anyone that they think might help them. Come to think of it... there's a strong possibility that they will wish to speak to the girls in Zainab's class, to gauge if her friends know anything about what happened."

If she was trying to incite a panic attack in me, then she was going about it in exactly the right way! Talking to my mother was one thing, but the idea of the police themselves conducting an interview with me, that was almost too much! Was this what I had to look forward to when I returned to school? Not only dealing with lessons and homework, but also the impending terror of a police interrogation. Mental images filled my head, of cops placing handcuffs on me and escorting from the school while students and Mullahs alike watched on in horror.

"That said, they probably won't want to talk to you about this," Tanya continued, and I felt my chest deflate in relief. She had put my fears to rest on that matter if nothing else. "Not individually, at least. You said it yourself, you weren't friends with that little girl. It'll probably be just a general conversation with the entire class. But if they do speak to you, then you will answer as honestly as possible, and do your best to help them in any manner that you can. You know how your father and I expect you to conduct yourself, Saria, and you had best believe that we expect you to adhere to those rules of honour and respect tenfold when speaking to any authority figure."

What a self-righteous bitch she was, to speak to me like this. To chide me as if I didn't understand how to behave when speaking to a police officer. As if I was going to, what, give them the thumbs up - the symbol here for "fuck you" and then spit in the officer's face? I mean... I certainly would have liked to do that, but I knew better. It was nearly offensive that Tanya would attempt to lecture me on the matter. Alas, all I could do was submit, and hope that she would bring this conversation to an end. "I understand, Mama, I will do my best help with whatever the police may ask of me. I wish for Zainab's killer to be taken off the streets as much as anyone."

"Thank you, Saria," Tanya replied politely, "I know I can trust you to be obedient in all things." She smiled, but it didn't reach her watery eyes. "I know how terrible this must be for you, to come to terms with such an awful crime happening, and right in our own back yard!" That was a statement of hyperbole, but she had no idea just how true those words were. "It's frightening for me to think of, so it must be doubly so for you."

Yes, but not for the reasons she was thinking. Fear for Zainab, for the supposed "bogeyman" that lurked in the shadows, ready to strike and drag young girls like me into an early grave? No, of course not. Fear for Assef, for myself, and for what consequences may befall us? To an infinite degree!

"I understand how you feel," Tanya told me. No, no she didn't. She didn't understand one fucking bit about what I felt, and it galled me that she would sit here and pretend that she did. She began to go off on a tangent. "To think of what that poor family is going through... that girl's parents, what must have gone through their minds, when the police showed up on their doorstep... knowing what happened to their baby... I... I..." Her voice rose in fever pitch, and she began wringing her hands as she tried to get herself under control, but to no avail. "I don't know what I would do, Saria, dear God... if anything were to ever happen to you or your brother. If I lost either one of you... how would I cope? How would I go on?"

It was becoming evermore uncomfortable to sit here and listen to this. Hearing her bemoan Zainab's fate was one thing, but for her to act as though she gave two shits about either Assef or myself, well... that was almost too much to bear. I wanted more than anything to firmly remind her that both she and Mahmood had forgotten my last birthday, and to refresh her memory on all of the times that she stood back and let Mahmood beat us, not to mention the beatings that she dished out on her own accord.

Tanya let out a distressed sob, causing me to jolt in my seat. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. "After... you and your brother have NO idea, Saria, NO idea just what this kind of awful news sounds like to a parent... no idea just what you both truly mean to me, and to your father... It just... I keep thinking... " She trailed off, tugging on strands of blonde hair as her voice took on a more angered tone. "There are some truly SICK people living in this world. Horrendous people who get some sort of disgusting pleasure out of hurting innocent CHILDREN." Tanya clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as her voice continued to rise. "But I promise you, Saria, I promise that the police are going to catch whoever hurt that little girl. That monster won't be walking the streets for much longer, and when they do find them, when they do, oh, I hope that person HANGS for what they did."

The sheer tenacity in her voice was terrifying to hear. Never before had I heard my mother speak with such conviction, never before had she been so enraged. Oh sure, I'd been on the receiving end of her chastisements, I'd even seen arguments that took place between her and Mahmood - though those became all the rarer in more recent years. But this... this was on another level. She sounded unhinged. Like she wanted to get hold of the person who had taken Zainab's life and murder them with her own two hands. And perhaps in her mind, she thought she was trying to make the world a safer place for her children. But when said children were actually involved in this murder, then hearing that she wanted me hanged was not as comforting as she must've considered it to be.

Quite the opposite, in fact. For now I was picturing being dragged before a crowd of people, having a rope placed around my neck and being strangled to death. Or having my neck broken. Images, worse still, of having first to watch as the same thing happened to my brother. To witness that would kill me faster than execution would. Tears began rolling down my cheeks, and I made no attempt to wipe them away. It no longer mattered to me that Tanya was here. I was in pain, afraid, and I wanted to let those emotions out.

As Tanya's rage began to subside, she turned to look at me, and her features immediately softened. How utterly pathetic I must have looked, sitting there with my face coated in tears, rocking back and forth as I tried to stop myself from completely losing all remnants of my sanity. Whatever motherly instincts that this news knocked into her seemed to work overtime at this depressing sight, for she instantly moved closer to me, and pulled me into her arms and began rubbing my back, something that I could not remember her doing, nor allowing her to do, since I had been a toddler.

"Oh, Saria," she cooed, her own tears flowing onto the top of my head. "It's too much for you, isn't it, baby? Too much to take in, oh, I know, I know..." Tanya's fingers glided across my scalp, her vice-like grip tightening to the point it felt like my bones would crack. "It's okay to be frightened, Saria, it's okay to feel sad about what happened. To know that there's someone out there who would, who has, hurt a little girl just like you. But it's going to be alright, I promise, everything will work out... everything will be okay..." She pressed her lips to the side of my head and began humming in German. "Mommy's got you, baby, mommy's right here. Nobody's going to hurt my little girl, nobody's going to take my children from me. Hush now, my little liebchen... mommy's here..."

My entire body froze upon hearing that one, specific word. That word that, while a typical German term of endearment, was in my mind reserved solely for Assef to address me. Here was Tanya, who so often used her hands to punish and hurt, now cradling and soothing me, now using the nickname that my brother used. To hear her use it, it felt like a betrayal to the other half of my very soul, and I could stand it no longer! I untangled myself from Tanya's embrace and stood up, backing away.

"I... I need to... I need... I'm sorry... It's... I..." Like an idiot, I repeated those words, babbling as if I couldn't think of anything else to say. Tanya made to reach for me, but I pushed past her and, blurting out, "Pray... pray excuse me..." before I turned on my heel and bolted for the stairs. As I did so, I noted that my mother made no effort to get me to stay. Clearly she mustn't care as much as she purported to.

As I bolted up the stairs, tripping over myself, at one point almost falling to my knees and resorting to a sort of "half-crawl" to the top, I noticed Hamilra standing in the upstairs hallway. She was folding towels and putting them away in the linen press, but as I staggered to my feet, she looked at me in concern and stepped towards me. "Saria khanom?" she asked, reaching for me. "Is... is everything okay?"

Was I so broken that even a Hazara servant wanted to offer comfort to me? Who did this bitch think she was, reaching for me? Trying to put her unworthy hands on me... did she not know that there was only one person I wanted right now... One person who would understand the awful sufferings within my soul. As Hamilra moved ever closer, I shoved her out of the way. "No, don't touch me, don't... no... get AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

It was with those harsh and unyielding words that I managed to dart past Hamilra's outstretched hand and continued my descent down the hallway. There was but one place I wanted to be right now, one place that was truly the safest, even if the person who made it so was not here. Throwing open the door to Assef's room, I flung myself inside, and, after closing the door with a slam, I collapsed down to my knees and began to wail in earnest, slamming my fists into the carpet.

"Oh no... oh no... why... why me? Why is this happening to me?" I moaned, wrapping my arms about my waist as I let loose the barrage of emotions that had built up within me from the moment I learned of Zainab's discovery. All I could think of was just what trouble Assef and I would be in if our part in this came to light. Just what would happen if even the tiniest shred of evidence linked back to us. And Tanya, with her uncharacteristic kindness and sympathy, was not helping matters either. For I knew now what, or rather who, she reminded me of. Faraya. It was Faraya's motherly affections that I thought of when I cast my mind back to those minutes earlier when Tanya had embraced me, and did my frazzled mind no good to consider my own mother in the same vein.

I collapsed onto my side and there I lay, sobbing into the carpet, letting my tears saturate it. My cries were so loud that I wondered, in the back of my mind, if Tanya would come up to check on me, but she did not. She must have used up her motherly quota for the day. Not that I cared. There was only one person that I wanted, yet as the minutes whiled away into hours, and my throat burned raw from crying, it seemed as though my misery would find no company.

Finally, however, I heard the front door open, and my greatest prayer was answered. "Practice ended a little early," I heard Assef say, and my entire soul jolted in relief. Was there ever more comforting a voice to exist on this planet? He was here, he was back! Oh, praise the heavens above for having him return to me. I wanted to run down the stairs and throw myself into his arms, but as I heard Tanya speak, I just... couldn't bring myself to do so.

"Alright, son," she said. I pressed my ear to the carpet and their voices wafted up through the ceiling so that I could hear their discussion in its entirety. Tanya was quick to convey the news that she had already told me. That Zainab had been found. She was brief with that, and soon got right to the point of what she actually wanted to discuss. That, of course, being me. "Your sister was truly upset by the news." Had I aroused suspicion by acting as I did? Did Tanya perhaps think less of me due to seeing me break down as she had? But as she spoke again, I was filled with a sense of relief to know that, indeed, this was not the case. "She seems to have taken it right to her sensitive little heart, and I don't blame her. It's just... repulsive to think about, and I can't imagine how frightened Saria must be."

There was another pause, before Assef spoke. "Yes, Mother, it just doesn't bear thinking about. Now, if you'll excuse me, I rather think my sister needs me. She's upstairs, yes?" Tanya answered in the affirmative, and within seconds, my brother making his way up the stairs. I rolled over so that I was now laying on my back, arms splayed open as I turned my head to face the door, which creaked open within mere seconds of Assef entering the hallway. Of course, of course he knew where to go, so in-sync were our minds and souls in all things.

Assef raced to my side, dropping to his knees beside me and pulling me into his arms. "Oh, sister," he whispered, gathering my limp form onto his lap. "Oh, Saria, it's okay, I'm here now, I've got you... it's alright, Liebchen..." Now that word sounded like the divine terminology it was. Only from my brother's lips. Only him. He cradled me to his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat was a miniscule comfort in and of itself, despite how erratic it seemed. Was he too made anxious by this harrowing discovery?

I clutched the fabric of his t-shirt, wanting nothing more than to burrow my soul into him and experience the true safety of his love. "They know," I groaned, my voice muffled. "They know... the police... they found her... Tanya made me listen to it on the radio..." As I said this, Assef tensed, and he muttered something I couldn't quite make out, before pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "There's a fucking investigation, Assef, an investigation into all of this, and Tanya says that when they find the culprit, they're gonna hang and...and-"

"And nothing, because there's no way we're going to let anything come back on us, right?" Assef asked, with such forceful conviction in his voice that it brought me a strange contentment that I had not experienced on this day. "No matter what it takes, I promise you, sister, that you won't take the fall for this. Nor will I," he hastily added, for I opened my mouth to remind him that he, too, needed to be careful. "They won't take you, my precious sister, they won't. They'll be looking for lowlife scum, not wealthy, affluent children from a well-off neighbourhood. I swear..." He placed a hand against my cheek, and I looked up at him through lashes that almost stuck together with my tears. "You must know that I would fight with everything in me to stay with you."

I began to relax a little. As always, my other half knew just how to make me calm down. "You're right, Assef, you're completely right. We'll make it through, cause we're the Ahmed siblings, and we're more powerful than any force in the universe."

"The universe would be a fool to dare fight against us," Assef said, kissing my head once more. "So you needn't worry about a thing. Alright? I'll let Tanya know that we won't be dining tonight; I don't think you could stomach dinner, and we can stay here, just the two of us. Okay?" I nodded, amazed by how he knew exactly what his Saria needed. Assef smiled and pulled me close again. "Now, dry those tears, Liebchen, you're safe with me, and you always, always will be."

No other words were spoken between us, then, and none would be. There would be time enough in the days to come for us to start formulating a plan to make sure the finger of blame was truly not pointed our way. For now, though... for now I would take solace in the warmth of Assef's embrace, in the gentle words offered by the one person in all of creation that would ever come close to understanding me. I would remind myself that if Assef said all would work out, then all would work out. Yet as I repeated this mantra in my head, another thought wormed its way inside me, before I could prevent it.

Assef, too, seemed nervous about this, and with good reason. For all his talk about keeping me safe, there was nothing much he truly could do in the face of law enforcement. One teenager couldn't really take on the police, no matter how much we waxed poetic about being unbeatable. And if even my greatest protector had been shaken by these events, then how could I hope to face the hell that may soon become my life?


Thank you all for reading! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, please feel free to drop by and leave a review if you're reading and enjoying my writing. The next chapter will take place when Saria returns to school, but a new face begins to stir up trouble from the get-go. Look for that, coming soon!

Thank you again, and all the best!