Author's Note: In the last chapter, the Ahmed siblings sought bloody vengeance against a girl that had been teasing Saria in class. Assef let his sister use his brass knuckles for the first time, leaving her overwhelmed in gratitude. Now, we continue with the next day, as Saria discovers the fate of the girl that she left bleeding in a ditch...

As always, the typical disclaimers apply here. I do not own the Kite Runner; all characters, plot points, and dialogue that may be lifted from the book within this story are the intellectual property of Khaled Hosseini, and will remain so. I am making zero profit from this fic, and am merely writing it for fun and as a way to express my love for the original source material.

I also do not condone the actions, thoughts, behaviours or depictions of relationships seen in this story. It is merely a work of fiction and should, of course, be taken as such.

And without further ado, please enjoy this chapter! As always, comments, reviews and feedback are always more than welcome - and greatly encouraged!


Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the backseat headboard in Mahmood's car. My tiny hands rested on my lap, balled up into fists, fingernails digging into my palms. Beside me, there rested my school satchel, with all of the books, notepads, pencils, and pens that I had needed for that day. My stomach was churning, tense knots that bubbled up from within, threatening to overwhelm me with a violent car sickness. Don't, I told myself, as if hoping that this chastisement might stop myself from throwing up, you know how your father will react if you make him stop the car. I know this is tense, Saria, but it's only for a few minutes, and you'll soon be in the presence of your brother. You can hold on until then.

This tension had been running through my very core from the moment that I walked out of the school gates and opened the back door to Mahmood's car, getting inside with a polite nod and a subservient, "Good afternoon, Father. Thank you for collecting me today," as if the man sitting in the driver's seat was performing some great favour for me, and not merely a parent come to get their youngest child after a long and tedious day of lessons.

Mahmood grunted in response. Truly, he was a man of so many wise, intelligent and compassionate words, was he not? That was the only greeting that I received from him. There were no smiles, no easy banter passed between father and daughter. Not even the simple question of 'how was your day?' that I'm certain most of the other girls in my class received if they were being collected by their parents. No expression of joy on his face at seeing me. Instead, the man who looked back at me from his rearview mirror had a perturbed, almost annoyed expression on his face. His lips set into a thin line, dark eyes narrowed so much that they became almost two slits. It didn't take a genius to realise that he detested having to come and pick me up.

But for that part, I could hardly express any true blame towards my father. That might have been the one thing that we were in agreement on - I didn't much want to be here, either. As the car trundled down the road, and the gray building of my school faded away, getting smaller and smaller until at last it was no longer visible, I found myself wishing that the arrangements created earlier that morning might have changed, somehow. That I would have emerged through those wrought-iron gates and seen my dearest Assef standing there, a warm smile on his face, his arms held open to take me into a gentle embrace that would have set the world to rights.

Oh, if only we could have walked home, as we usually did. Chatting, laughing, sharing inside jokes that only the two of us would understand. Assef would have asked how my day was, that I knew. Assef would have been interested to learn about every single detail of what had gone on in my lessons, no matter how tedious it was. Yet that was not to be the case. Earlier that morning, Tanya had, in that shrill and pompous voice of hers, demanded that Mahmood drive Assef and I to and from school, and that was an end to it. For with the cold glare that she directed at each of us in turn, we all knew that there was to be no arguing with her.

What was the reason for this, you might ask? For what purpose did it serve to have Mahmood come to pick us up, when before we had always walked home, since as far back as I could remember? Was it because of some awful weather, mayhaps because there was rain that splashed onto the ground, hitting loudly against the car's window panes? No, actually. In fact, today had been slightly overcast, yes, but there was no rain. Nothing more than clouds from which a tiny pinprick of sunlight emanated through at certain points. So why... why had Tanya deigned to order that this change be made to our usual routine?

The answer to that was a simple one; I had, in fact, entered into a hell of my own creation. Earlier this morning, as I prepared what would no doubt be a rather boring and tedious school day, the news had come over the radio. She had been found. She, of course, being the girl that my darling and I had left for dead the previous night. Yes. Five hours after we had returned home, long after we had eaten an awkward dinner with Tanya and Mahmood, the four of us quietly picking at our meal, not wanting to speak a word to each other, a group of teen boys had been meandering through that patch of land, and had come across the lifeless form sprawled on the ground.

One of them had dashed back to the market, screaming for help. The others stayed beside the girl, and did so until an ambulance was called and she was loaded up onto a stretcher, taken away to get the help that she so desperately needed. It hadn't taken long before the word got out around regarding what had happened, and soon enough, the child's frantic parents were rushing into the hospital, demanding to know what had happened to their little girl. Demanding answers that nobody but Assef or I could give.

Her name was Mojdeh, the news reporter stated, though he did not mention her surname. Or perhaps he did, and I simply had not given it much attention. "Mojdeh," I mouthed the word, under my breath, glancing around to ensure that nobody else could hear me. Yes. Yes. I remembered now. Mojdeh. Ahtrai had liked her the most out of her Posse of Dipshits, and for good reason. Mojdeh had always laughed the loudest whenever Ahtrai said or did something to humiliate me. But alas, Mojdeh was not laughing now, nor would she for the foreseeable future.

We had done a real number on her, it seemed. More so than I'd expected. Oh, no doubt I was well aware that we'd hurt the girl, and badly, too. You don't receive a beating like that, especially one with brass knuckles, and come out unscathed. I had expected that she would have suffered from some broken bones, and from some internal injuries. That when she woke up, she would have been in a world of pain. All deserved, of course. Indeed, I had gone to sleep the previous night with a head full of sweet dreams of how much pain my victim would have been in when she came to.

But she did not awaken. Even as paramedics rushed her to the hospital, even as doctors and nurses fussed over her, inserting an IV drip into her arm, opening her eyes, shining torches, checking her for any signs of life. Even as her parents rushed to her bedside, holding her bandaged hands, kissing her bruised face, and pleading for her to come back to them. Mojdeh remained still and quiet. Her injuries, as well as the cold evening weather that she had been left in, had all but knocked the girl into a coma, from which it was unsure that she would ever recover.

Now, I'm sure I don't need to express what a panic this news had set Tanya into. She was already behaving a little... off... this morning, staring blankly out into the garden, at the empty swimming pool, from the kitchen window, her hands wrapped tightly around a steaming mug of coffee. Entirely lost in her old world, paying not even the slightest modicum of attention to her husband and children. Then the news had come over the airwaves about Mojdeh, and it was as if a switch flipped within her. The same one that had been flipped when Zainab's body was found.

She had demanded, then, that Mahmood drop off and collect Assef and I from school. "I won't have them out on these streets alone, Mahmood," she told him, pointing a long-nailed finger in his face, before he could even think to argue, "not now. Not when there are monsters walking the roads, attacking and killing innocent children." Would that she knew that the very 'monsters' she spoke of were both sitting at the kitchen table with her, were the very same children that she was so desperate now to protect. Tanya's attention had then turned to Assef and I. "Your father will take you both to school today," she said, "and collect you afterwards. I expect that you both will be grateful for this."

Because, of course, she couldn't just be a protective mother wanting to look out for her children. There had to be some underlying aura of haughtiness to her words, an expectation that this was some huge favour being done for us. I could tell from the look in Mahmood's eyes that he didn't want to heed Tanya's wishes, but that he had no choice, if he didn't want to start an argument between himself and his wife. And so, here we were, in this awkward situation, father and daughter both united in not wanting to be anywhere near together.

Finally, the car drew to a halt outside a large building that I recognised as Assef's school - though I had not seen it since I was much younger, not since it had been deigned acceptable for my brother and I to walk there alone. I looked out the window, my eyes scanning the area, until at last they settled upon the figure leaning against the gates.

Assef! I thought, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Oh, how I yearned to throw open the car doors, and run to him. I wanted to feel his arms around me, to feel the gentle touch of his lips against my forehead, to hear him call me 'Liebchen' in that ethereal voice of his. To hear the precious nickname that always lifted my soul to the highest peaks. But I couldn't. Not now. Not with the mood that my father was currently in. For I knew that if I opened those car doors, Mahmood would pull me back, kicking and screaming, before I even had the chance to reach my darling. He would throw me back into the car, screaming at me for being disobedient, for not heeding his orders to stay where I was. Perhaps, he'd even take the belt to me, right then and there, not caring about any witnesses - knowing that they would surely turn a blind eye to what, in their minds, would amount only to the fatherly duty of punishing an unruly child.

So instead, I just waited, with baited breath, for my other half to make his way across the asphalt and open the back door to the car, climbing in next to me. He threw his schoolbag onto the car floor and buckled his seatbelt, giving an emotionless nod to Mahmood as he did so. Once he was settled in, I reached out to him, wanting to feel his hand in mine; the only real connection that we'd be able to have in this moment.

He took my hand in his, squeezing it once, before letting go, leaving my fingers hanging there. I moved my hand back to my lap, a strange sensation bubbling within me. Assef's grip on my fingers was limp, his palm clammy, and he pulled away so quickly, I barely had time to experience the feeling of his skin on mine. He didn't even kiss my hand, as I'd been expecting him to. How odd that was. Still, I reassured myself that it was probably because he was as irritated at being chauffeured home as I was. He probably just wanted the freedom of our twenty-minute walk, and who was I to blame him for this?

Rather than bring the subject up and risk upsetting my darling further, I merely chose to offer a compassionate word of greeting to him, in the hopes that I might be able to bring some levity to his day. "I've missed you, Assef jan," I said in German, knowing that Mahmood would not be able to understand a single word that escaped my lips. "I hope your day was pleasant, big brother."

"You too, Saria," Assef replied, before he turned away from me and glanced out the window, his chin resting on his palm. Saria. Not Liebchen. Again, my stomach flipped unpleasantly, the tension only further compounded by the knowledge that Assef wasn't addressing me by the loving name that had been my own from as far back as I could remember. Where was my special nickname? Where was the gentle touch, the smile reserved for me and me alone? For what reason was he acting this way?

I turned away from him, and stared out my own window, seeing the trees, houses, and buildings pass by, as the car trundled down the road. Between Mahmood, Assef, and myself, every single person in this vehicle would have given anything to be somewhere else in the world right now. I yearned to wrap myself up within the safety of my brother's arms, away from the prying eyes of busybody mothers and neglectful fathers. Only a few more minutes, I told myself, only a few more minutes, and you'll be home.

Finally, Mahmood turned the car into our driveway. I let out an inaudible sigh of relief, glancing our house up ahead. Not quite home-sweet-home, but a far better prospect than this dingy vehicle that we were now trapped in. I could hardly wait for Mahmood to put the car into park and let us out. But as he parked the car and turned around in his seat to face Assef and I, it became overtly clear that he wasn't going to let us go anytime soon. Not just yet, anyway.

"Your mother and I will be going away for the night," he told us. It was the first time that he'd spoken to us all day. I turned my head to face him, keeping my eyes lowered, the picture perfect image of innocent subservience. Mahmood adjusted his tie, then continued. "We will be leaving as soon as possible, and won't be back until later tomorrow afternoon." No surprise there; how typical it was in our family for Mahmood and Tanya to disappear and leave their children alone. Why even bother telling us this? Why not just leave, it mattered not to Assef or I whether they were around or not.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but was able to refrain myself from doing so, as Mahmood spoke again. "I've been asked to inform you two that you are not to leave the house for any reason. Hamilra will prepare dinner this evening, and you are to both spend the afternoon completing any homework or study that you may have been given for the weekend. Once that is done, then I am sure you will both find something with which to while away the remaining hours, but under no circumstances are you to go wandering off into the streets. Do you understand me?"

My brother and I both nodded obediently, answering that we would, indeed, obey his commands. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate for me to say; that we would obey Tanya's demands. Because I wasn't stupid. I knew that it was through her machinations that we were being forced to stay inside. Forced to remain sequestered within these four walls, to keep us safe and protected from the vile criminal that had left young Mojdeh for dead.

How odd it was, really, that she could be so utterly concerned about our well-being, and yet had no issue with leaving us alone for the night. I almost wanted to voice this irony aloud, to bring up Tanya's hypocrisy, but I thought better of it. With Mahmood's temper being as changeable as it so often was, I did not want to risk incurring his ire, lest I be faced with a harsh whipping. So instead, I merely kept quiet, locking these frustrations away in this deep pit inside myself where they would forever remain, bedfellows of all the emotional abuse that I'd suffered from the very beginning.

Mahmood looked back and forth between Assef and I, giving us a stern glare, as if checking for any signs of disobedience. Any signs that we would not do as he ordered. When he saw nothing of this sort, he gave a quiet, solemn nod, and unlocked the car doors. "Good. Now, let's get inside." I, for one, didn't need telling twice. I unbuckled my seat-belt, grabbed up my bag, which I held in front of me as I pushed open the door and stepped out. Mere feet away from me, Assef was doing much of the same.

Together, we all began making our way to the house. Mahmood fumbled with the keys, going through them one by one. He did this for what seemed, to me, like an eternity, before he materialised the house key. And not a moment too soon! He unlocked the door, which came ajar as he pushed it open. The three of us made our way inside, and I felt my heart drop into my shoes, as I noticed Tanya standing in the hallway, already waiting for us.

She was dressed to the nines, wrapped up in an expensive beige coat with fur on the sleeves and collar. Her blonde hair was pinned up in a neat bun, mascara dotting her eyelashes, her cheeks rouged and her lips red. They must have been going to some fancy hotel or restaurant for the night. Or perhaps this was another business meeting, of which Mahmood was always so fond of attending. Whatever the case, there was no other reason that my mother would have been as dolled up as she was. For her clothes to have been so meticulously chosen, for her to look as though she was heading out to dine with royals or celebrities.

And speaking of perfect clothing, I knew that Tanya would want to inspect my uniform before she left. There was no way that she was going to leave without ensuring that her daughter had managed to keep her uniform neat and clean, to her exact standards. Placing one leg behind the other, I lowered my gaze and sank down into another polished curtsy, bowing my head in deference.

I held my position as I spoke. "Good afternoon, Mama," I said, in my most charming and subservient voice. After that initial greeting, I spoke not another word, preparing myself for the inspection that I had no doubt was coming. My body tensed up, as I strained to remain in this curtsy, knowing that if I moved before Tanya had the chance to look me over, that I would really be in for it. I chewed anxiously on the inside of my lip, just wanting this to be over and done with, so that they could leave and I could get on with the rest of my afternoon.

But that was not what happened. Rather than being jostled about and turned from left to right like a porcelain doll, as I'd expected to be, instead, Tanya simply ordered, "Rise, daughter." What was this? Was this some sort of test? Why wasn't she inspecting me as she always did? Did she simply no longer care about how I looked? Before I could wax poetic further on this, Tanya reached out and caught my upper arm, pulling me gently into an upright position.

She brushed some dust from off of my uniform, and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, adjusting the clip that I had pinned in my hair earlier that morning. "I trust that you behaved in the manner that was expected of you today, Saria?" she asked, putting a finger under my chin and lifting it up so that I was looking at her in the eye. "And that you kept your uniform to the proper standard of cleanliness?"

"Yes, Mama," I responded obediently. Tanya's lips twitched, into what one might have construed as a smile. She placed a hand on my shoulder, allowing to linger there for an uncomfortable moment. There was something in her eyes, a glazed over, distant look that I didn't quite recognise. A look of... oh, I can't quite put the words to it. Was it sadness? Fear? Apprehension? A bit of both? Neither? Something else altogether? No doubt this was her way of coping with the news that we'd all heard earlier this morning. But I didn't have the chance to fret much on this, as Tanya eventually straightened up and moved away from me.

I watched as she walked over to Mahmood, and the two stood side by side, closer than I'd ever seen them before. "Are you ready to go, Mahmood?" she asked, to which he responded in the affirmative, placing a hand on her back. Seeing that, it really threw me for a loop. My parents were never this close to one another. Never. I could scarcely remember the last time that I'd borne witness to such affection coming from the two of them. Hell, they hardly ever acted like a married couple on a good day. Where the fuck had these supposed personality changes appeared from?

Tanya pointed to my brother and I in turn, giving us both a pointed glare. "I trust that your father has laid down the rules that you are both to follow while we are away?" she asked. At our programmed nods, she continued, in that same haughty tone for which I had come to know her. "That's good. I have given Hamilra my express command to ensure you do not go wandering off today. And I am sure that I do not need to reiterate what will happen if we come to learn that you have disobeyed our orders, now do we?"

"Of course not, Mother," Assef replied, offering her a charming grin. Both she and Mahmood were clearly satisfied by this answer, and they both made their way to the door. Not another word was spoken, no goodbyes given as Tanya retrieved her handbag from off of the banister, and reached down to take Mahmood's hand. They slipped quietly out the door, as it clicked shut behind them.

Finally, my darling and I were alone. A mischievous grin snaked its way onto my lips as I turned to face Assef, placing my hands behind my back and rocked on my heels. "Looks like we've made the bitch worry again," I joked, a playful giggle escaping, as I made this reference to the victim that we had left bleeding in the dirt. And, of course, to our mother's typical worrisome to reaction to it. I wanted to bring a bit of levity to this otherwise harrowing and uncomfortable situation that we both found ourselves in.

"I guess you could say that," Assef responded. His lips twitched, in much the same way that Tanya's had not moments before. A brief chuckle escaped his lips, as if he were trying to force a laugh at my joke, but wasn't able to do so. There was a look in his eyes that truly unsettled me. A glazed, distant look, as he appeared to stare right through me, as if he hadn't even noticed that I was there. Hadn't even noticed that I'd spoken. And did a trace of sadness linger there, too? Oh, how it would shatter my heart into tiny pieces if that were to be the case.

I approached him, taking his hand in mine. "Is something wrong?" I asked, intertwining our fingers together and lifting his hand just so that I could rest my cheek against it, hoping that this might offer some comfort to my precious other half. "You seem..." I wracked my brain, searching for the right words to express what I had noticed. No eloquent dictation came, and so I settled for: "... off. The look in your eyes, so solemn. And you haven't breathed a word to me since our parents left."

Or embraced me, I thought, for that was the strangest thing about all of this. Normally, Assef could hardly wait to hold me, to pull me close and whisper sweet nothings in my ear while I swooned from the true elation of being in his presence. But now? Now, he hadn't even paid a single iota of attention to me. Just as it was back in the car. I let his hand go, watching it fall limply back to his side. "Has something happened to make you feel this way?" I asked, concerned. "Something in school, perhaps? If that's the case, then you know that you can always talk to me, don't you? You let me share my woes with you, so I offer the same courtesy in return. Please, big brother, tell me what's the matter, because I know something is."

"It's nothing," Assef said, in a clipped tone. He looked down at me, and his expression softened just a little. "I've just had a busy day, and I'm feeling a little stressed, that's all. I need to go upstairs and lie down before I get started on my homework, because let me tell you, I've got a shit-ton of that to complete." He laughed, but again, it felt so unrealistic, and not at all like the Assef I knew. "Don't trouble yourself on my account, sweet sister. I promise, I'll feel much more refreshed once I've taken a quick breather."

He drew me towards him then, offering the lamest attempt at a hug that I'd ever received from my other half, and kissed my forehead, before moving away and hurrying up the stairs, taking them two at a time as I stood there and looked up at him in disbelief. Oh, now I knew there was something wrong! Knew it deep within the very fibre of my bones. It made me want to run up after him, to throw open his bedroom door and not move an inch until he finally came clean about what was bothering him. Until he let it all out, every sordid little detail about what had made him feel this way. To be his rock as he was always mine.

All the same, I feared that if I were to intrude upon my dearest's personal space, that it would cause emotions to flare and an argument to erupt like a volcano. We both had fierce tempers, after all, and if one of us were stressed, then it was to the other's detriment to push the issue beyond the typical bounds of what was acceptable. I looked up at the stairs, where Assef had long since disappeared down the hallway, and weighed up my options. Did I go after him or not?

Eventually, I decided that the best option here was to just let my brother have the peace that he clearly yearned for. Who knows after some time, he might feel refreshed and come back to his old self. And maybe then, we could find some way to entertain ourselves, despite being trapped inside for the night. Maybe we could play a game of Panjpar. I'd even let him win if it would make him feel better, like the caring and dutiful little sister that I was.

Until then, however, I would find something else with which to occupy my time. I went into the living room, flopping down onto the couch, wringing my hands as I did so. "What is going on with everyone today?" I mused in German, glancing up towards the ceiling. Indeed, my whole family was behaving so strangely. From Tanya not bothering to inspect my uniform, to Assef not wanting to spend any time with me, even going so far as to bolt up the stairs to get away from me. Of course, I was pretty sure as to why Tanya was acting this way, as this was the same manner in which she had treated me after Zainab's body was found.

It seemed that, whenever a child around my age was hurt, Tanya's entire personality shifted and she became a whole different person. An entirely new mother, as if she had peeled off of her exoskeleton and out came the sweet, loving, overprotective and gentle mother that I had never known. She would fret over the smallest things, worrying about whether or not my brother and I were safe. But that was par for the course with Tanya, and honestly, her actions and mannerisms were not at all anything for me to worry about.

Assef, on the other hand... That really worried me. What reason did he have to behave in this way? What reason did he have to want to get away from me? He was certainly not worried for my safety - he knew full well that there wasn't some bogeyman stalking us, wasn't some horrid creature going around murdering people without rhyme or reason. He'd been right by my side as I had delivered that violent beating to Mojdeh, he'd cheered me on, laughed with me as I made cruel and nasty quips about the girl that I was attacking. I mean, fucking hell, he'd even stomped on the girl's wrist and broken them! It had been a moment of bonding for us, a moment for the Ahmed siblings to show a pathetic, weak little victim just what it meant to incur our wrath. It was something good.

It's not so good now, Saria, a tiny voice in my head piped up. It continued speaking before I could quash it back down. Not when Mojdeh's been found. Not when she's lying in a hospital bed with everybody around her waiting for her to wake up and tell them what happened. To tell them who did this to her. Come on, it's blatantly obvious that there's going to be an investigation into this, any moron could see that! That's what's got Assef so worried; he's concerned about what will happen if Mojdeh wakes up and spills the beans that it was you two who beat her.

I placed a hand to my temple, attempting to rub away the thoughts that were now plaguing me. The thoughts that had wormed their way into my mind and were now eating me up from the inside out.

What if Assef was placing blame on me for the Just Because happening in the first place? It wasn't a giant leap to come to, now was it? After all, it had been due to my humiliation at the hands of Ahtrai that he'd even suggest we'd go out and find a victim in the first place. He'd given me his brass knuckles in an attempt to cheer me up, to cement our relationship through this act of savagery. It was his way of showing me just how much he loved me, but now that blissful moment came with an incredible risk.

If Mojdeh confessed that it had been me that attacked her, then surely she would remember my brother was there, too. And if that was the case, then obviously, any ramifications that I faced would be shared my Assef. There would be no way for me to protect him, then. Not even if I took all the blame, which I was utterly determined to do if push came to shove. No. The police would delve deep into this investigation, and there would no way that I, a mere child, would be able to stop them. And there would be no way that I could ever hate my brother if he blamed me for everything. He would be well within his rights to do so, after all.

No... no, that wasn't the case. This was merely my overanxious thoughts playing tricks on me. Assef didn't hate me because of Mojdeh. He hadn't placed any sort of blame on me when Zainab was found, did he? No, on the night, he had gathered me up into his embrace and reassured me that all would work out for our betterment. We were forever united in all things, especially when it came to defeating the enemies that dared to cross us.

There was also no reason for me to fear Mojdeh breathing a word about what we did to her. I mean, fucking hell, we'd kicked her damn head in. I'd even jumped on her skull before leaving. Who's to say whether she would even remember her own name when she woke up, let alone remember who had attacked her? Even if she did remember, well, would you dare to speak up against a person who had done this to you? It would be her word against ours, and if I could charm the police into believing me - which I had no doubt I would be able to - then Mojdeh would be really up the creek without a paddle. And she would then be forced to return to school, not only with the same person who had beaten her up, but the person she had attempted to get into trouble with the law.

I wouldn't want to take that risk if I were in her shoes. Mojdeh would remain quiet, of that I was absolutely certain. My darling and I were entirely in the clear. I could relax now, safe in the knowledge that nothing would harm us. Undoing my school tie, I pulled it off and slung it over the back of the couch, toeing off my shoes and kicking my feet up, lying on my side and closing my eyes, attempting to get some measure of solace. Perhaps I too could nod off for a while, before I had to go upstairs and begin working on my homework.

But no sooner had I begun to fall asleep, then I was jolted awake by an extremely loud, heavy thud coming from upstairs. Loud as an earthquake, or so it seemed. So much so, in fact, that I almost toppled off of the couch, that's how utterly flabbergasted I was. I rolled about half-way onto the floor, my legs dangling over the edge, throwing a hand out to stop myself from falling entirely. The other hand shot out to grab at the nearby coffee table, to stop myself from whacking my head against it.

For a moment I just hung there, in this precarious position, the world tilted onto an entirely new axis. "What the fuck?" I muttered, letting go of the coffee table so that I could press it against my chest, feeling my heart thudding so rapidly that I was surprised it hadn't literally burst forth out of my chest. "What the fuck was that?" I turned my head, glancing towards the closed living room door, beyond which, upstairs, there was something happening that I had not the slightest clue of. "What the fuck is going on up there?"

Another deafening thump came from upstairs. By now, I had managed to pull myself upright again. I slid down from off of the couch, before rising to my feet and standing there in the middle of the living room, as loud, heavy footsteps emanated from just beyond the door. Thump, thump, thump. The sounds of what was clearly a person going up and down a flight of stairs - doors opening and closing. What was it? Just what the ever-living fuck was going on?

I hurried across the room, placing a tiny hand upon the doorknob. As I was doing so, there came yet another thud, causing me to jolt in fear. There was something entirely untoward about all this, of that there was no doubt. But what? Just what could it be? Something to do with Assef? I trembled as my overanxious mind began to work overtime. Had my dearest been injured up there, somehow? I wanted to throw open the door, to go charging up the stairs and burst into his room to check on him. But I managed to convince myself not to.

It's probably just Hamilra doing some cleaning, I reassured my mind, as the footsteps continued, on and on. That's all it is, Saria. Come on now, if it was anything else, don't you think that there would have been noise up there? Listen, do you hear any raised voices? Sounds of pain? I pressed my ear to the door, trying to hear the aforementioned sounds. But there was only silence now. See, it's just Hamilra. She probably just dropped a basket of clothes on the staircase and was going back up and down to pick them up. You know what a clumsy fucking bitch she can be. Don't fret over it. It's nothing. That's right. Absolutely nothing.

My hand slowly pulled away from the doorknob and fall back by my side again. I turned to the couch again, wondering if perhaps I should just go and lie down again. Those noises had stopped me from taking the well-earned rest that I'd been meaning to have. And if I put a cushion over my head and shut the noise out, then maybe I'd be able to get some form of relaxation. Just maybe.

Alas, right as I was about to go back to lie down, there came another sound of footsteps. If this truly was Hamilra, then there was no way I was going to continue letting her make all of this noise, especially not when my brother was trying to get an iota of peace upstairs. "You fucking Hazara bitch," I growled under my breath, hurrying towards the living room door and throwing it open.

I slipped quietly out of the living room and began making my way up the stairs, on tiptoe, to ensure that I wasn't making much noise. If Hamilra had bothered my other half, then I would make damn fucking sure that I didn't cause any further issues for him. How careful I was not to even let the steps creak beneath my socked feet. "When I get a hold of you, Hamilra," I whispered, "I swear, I swear if you've bothered my Assef, I swear, if you're the one that's causing all this trouble, then damn what my mother's said, I'll drag your sorry ass out into the road and let you get run over by a fucking car!"

The footsteps had all but stopped now, leaving only a tense quiet in its wake. It was as if there was everyone had just completely disappeared from the planet, with me being marooned on a desert island on my own. Indeed, the hush that now fell over the entire household was far more unsettling than the noises that had earlier irritated me.

Eventually, I reached the top of the stairs, coming into the hallway. I gripped the top of the banister, taking a huge intake of air, glancing around at the empty hallway. From right to left, from left to right, then back again. Trying to gauge if there was anyone else up there with me. If perhaps I could spot a glimpse of Hamilra, on her knees, gathering up fallen clothing to replace them into her laundry basket. But there was no sign of her. Unless she had the ability to make herself invisible - which I most certainly doubted was the case, then she was not here.

Indeed, that was much for her own benefit, for I was not lying when I said that I'd punish her for disturbing my other half, if, of course, that was what she'd done. I stepped forward, one foot after the other, still looking around, staring at all of the closed bedroom doors, in the hopes that by doing so, I would gain the power to see beyond them and into the rooms within. Especially into my brother's room. How I wished I could have seen in there, to know that he was okay. To know that there was nothing amiss. For when it came to my Assef, there was naught that I could do but fret and worry. His welfare was of the utmost importance to me, far above and beyond anything else.

Distracted by my fretting thoughts, I very nearly collided with something in the upstairs hallway. I leapt backwards, throwing my hands out, fully ready either to apologise profusely, if it had been Assef that I'd walked into, or to start a damn altercation if it was Hamilra. In all truth, I expected the latter, and as I've already stated, I was in no mood to be toyed with this afternoon. However, as I stared at the thing that had almost bowled me over, I came to the confused realization that it was, in fact, not a person at all.

It was a ladder. Right in the middle of the upstairs landing, blocking my path forward. And this was not just any ladder, oh no. For as I craned my neck to look upwards, I saw that the steps leading up to a gaping hole in the ceiling, where a scuttle hole had formed, a hatch-door dangling right above my head. I gazed up at it, my lips parting in confusion, squinting from the hatch-door, to the ladder, to the gaping chasm up above.

The attic. Yes, that's what this was. The door to the attic had been opened, and quite obviously, someone had gone up there and was doing... well, on that matter, I had absolutely no fucking idea. You see, there's a very good reason why I've never mentioned the fact that my house even had an attic, and that was because I'd never been up there. Oh, I knew it existed, of course I did. Even in my youth, I could remember looking up to where the hatch-door was, and been naively curious about what might be up there.

Every time I brought this up to Assef, however, he'd merely place a hand on my shoulder and say, "It's nothing, Liebchen. Just some boxes of old toys from when you and I were little. Not anything you'd really be interested in seeing, you can trust me on that." Then, he would take my hand and lead me into his room or mine, away from the door-in-the-ceiling that I'd been so curious over. This happened maybe five, six times throughout my childhood, before eventually I forgot all about it. Assef managing to distract me every single time.

Thus, the attic remained this hidden place within the Ahmed family home that nobody ever spoke of, or went anywhere near. Not even Hamilra, who had so often been tasked with cleaning the whole house from top to bottom, who scrubbed and polished and brushed every inch, upstairs and down, until everything was sparkling like the inside of a palace, had ever been up there. It was like an unspoken rule, that we all knew to follow. You do not go up into the attic.

And yet... someone had obviously disregarded that, if the ladder was anything to go by. But who? Hamilra? My brother? For what reason could either one of them have for being up there? Assef had told me that he wasn't feeling the best, that he needed peace and quiet in order to get some much needed respite. Had he played me false? Convinced me that he needed to be alone upstairs, knowing damn well that I would leave him alone, in order to sneak into the hidden attic?

There could be no way. Assef knew how much I worried about him, he knew that even mentioning feeling stressed or off in any manner would cause my mind to work overtime. He'd never put me through that, not in a million years. Not on purpose. But then... for what reason did I now stand before the attic ladder, something that my eyes had perhaps never yet seen before? For a moment, I looked through the gaps in the rungs, to where my brother's room lay just beyond, the door firmly closed. I thought about knocking to see if he was in there, and if he was, asking him if there was anything he knew about what was going. Perhaps he was as in the dark about this whole situation as I was.

Or maybe... maybe he wasn't. Maybe there was some deeper conspiracy going on here, of which my brother was entirely complicit. Who's to say that if I tried to get some truth from Assef, that he'd be able or willing to give it to me. And what if he wasn't in his room at all, but was up there in the attic? I bit down on my lip, staring down the hall, part of me hoping that his bedroom door would open and that we'd be able to talk about what was going on. Alas, the longer I waited, the more frustrated I became.

I dragged my attention back to the ladder, placing a finger up against my mouth. Did I go up there? Did I dare to risk whatever indignation might come my way if I made my way into this secret abode, where nobody in this household ever dared to thread? I almost wanted to forget the whole thing, to go back downstairs and fetch myself a snack, to sit in the garden and be alone with my thoughts. But I knew that if I didn't figure out what was going on, I would be afforded no sleep tonight. Oh, how hindsight is really twenty-twenty.

Glancing up and down the hall to ensure that nobody was around to catch me in the act, I took a hesitant step forward. Reaching out with shaking hands, I gripped tightly onto the rungs and hauled myself up. For the briefest, most minuscule nanosecond, a part of me wanted to reconsider. Was I truly going to go through with this? To go into this secret place that the general consensus was that nobody dared enter into?

It's now or never, Saria. You can't just stand here for the whole day, you'll look a total and utter fool if anyone comes out here and sees you dangling from the ladder, frozen on the spot. So either you go up there right now, or you walk away and never think of this again. You never ask about what's up here, you never bring it up to Assef, never even consider what might have been hidden from your prying eyes. Make up your mind right this instant, and let that be an end to it!

Can you guess what I decided on? That's right! Up the ladder I climbed, holding desperately onto each rung with my quaking fingers. Higher, and higher, and higher I went, every part of me screaming to get down. This was not out of any fear of heights, oh no! Even as I reached the half way point, and my stomach lurched to notice just how far above the ground I was. No, my fears were all down to not knowing or understanding what I would discover when I eventually reached the top.

Yet I had no other choice in the matter. I had made my decision, and it would be an act of pure and utter cowardice to turn back now. To stop myself from accomplishing the task that I knew had to be done. For fuck sake, I was the girl who had brutally stabbed another child to death, who had left a girl bleeding in the undergrowth with potentially life-changing injuries! My fortitude was entirely unmatched by all but my darling. There was no way in hell that I was going to let some tiny, dingy attic scare me!

I reached the top of the ladder, my head and shoulders poking through the opening. My arms and legs ached, whether from the stress of what I was doing, or from the energy I'd needed to exert while climbing up here, I had not a clue of. Nevertheless, I pulled myself upwards one final time, until eventually I was in the attic. Getting to my feet, I smoothed down the front of my uniform, before taking a look around at what lay before me.

One bulb hung in the ceiling, flickering to the point where I was certain it was going to go out and leave me in complete and total darkness, which would have been rather unsettling, to say the very least. Above my head, hung several beams, on which there was quite a bit of dust. Old clothes and toys lay strewn across the floor, including a small teddy bear that I remembered playing with when I was a toddler. It had come across some misfortune during one particularly adventurous game that my brother and were playing together, and half of its stuffing had come out, as well as one of its eyes. So frightened was I by the sight, being a mere child at the time, that I'd pleaded for the bear to be taken away from me.

Grumbling about what a "silly little girl" I was, Mahmood had taken the bear from me, and gotten rid of it, telling me that it had 'disappeared' and that I never need to worry about it again. Presumably he'd only done so because I was kicking up such a fuss that he had no other choice but to remove the item that was causing toddler Saria such distress. Assef always used to tease me about it, in that lighthearted manner as only siblings as close as us would be able to.

A sharp laughed escaped as I walked across the floorboards, which creaked under my tights to the point where I worried they might break and send me crashing through the ceiling and onto the hallway floor below. Reaching down, I took the hold of the bear by one limp arm, disentangling it from the other toys that it had been mingled in with. Holding it between thumb and forefinger, I stared into its one, empty eye socket, poking my finger into the gaping hole on the other side of its head.

"To think I used to be so frightened of you," I laughed, jostling the toy back and forth, as if it were a real, human enemy that was now within my grasp. "To think that the sight of you used to make me scream and cry and throw up. And now look at us both, you here, forgotten, and me, well..." Me, the twelve-year-old killer. The monster that kept children locked inside at night. I'd never quite get over the fact that I could call myself that, now would I?

I tossed the bear away from me, not in fear this time, but disgust. It landed in amongst another pile of toys and old picture books, where it would forever remain. Not even worth my time anymore, really. On some level, though, part of me wondered if my younger self was happy with this closure, if there was an inner child deep within me that had achieved some measurement of harmony knowing that she would one day grow up to no longer be so troubled by the bear that was currently giving her nightmares.

How I hoped that would be the case. Regardless, I didn't come up here to wax poetic about my childhood, or to lecture my old toys about the trauma they'd once put me through. No, there was a mystery that needed to be solved within this dusty, ionic room, and it was up to me to piece together what exactly was going on here. I looked at all of the paraphernalia, questioning myself as to what might be here that could give me any answers. "What am I looking for?" I folded one arm across my chest, the other resting on my elbow, as I tapped my chin. "There has to be something, some reason that the attic door was opened. Come on, Saria, you know for a fact that nobody went up here to play with your old toys. Think, damn you! What is it that you're missing?"

Soon enough, my attention became drawn to an old, wooden folding table in the corner of the attic. So insignificant that I'd hardly even noticed it before. There it was, though, and now I was staring directly at it, as if nothing else in that room mattered. But that was not what I was interested in. Rather, what I was now looking at was the cardboard box that somebody had placed upon the table, its flaps hanging open. And facing me, no doubt scribbled in Tanya's cursive penmanship, were the letters "Sa-".

My name, I thought. There was a patch of dust on the box, hiding the rest of the letters from view, but I was of absolute certainty that it was, indeed, 'Saria' that was written there. This must be a box full of my old baby toys and clothes. What else could it be? Had Assef been feeling nostalgic for our childhoods and come up here to look through everything that we'd owned in our youth, back in the days when we had been young and far more pure of heart than we were now? If that was so, then where was he now? Had he gone back downstairs and forgotten to close up the attic door behind him?

Once again, my feet seemed to carry me before my brain decided to do anything, and before I knew it, I was stood in front of that table, looking at the box that rested upon it. With trembling fingers, I pulled up the sleeve of my dress above my wrist, and wiped away the dust that had settled upon it. Once, twice, three times, until it vanished, revealing the word... the name... that had been written there.

It was Tanya's handwriting, looped and neat and perfect, as my mother so often tried to be. It had been written in sharpie, but I could tell that even with that having been the case, she had worked so hard to ensure that it looked utterly impeccable. But the name that had been penned on the cardboard was not my own. Instead, the letters that had been ascribed there spelled out the word: Sami.

"Sami?" I mouthed, staring at the name in utter confusion. I let myself taste the word, the way it caused my lips to move, how it sounded on my tongue. I said it first in German, then Farsi, and finally in Pashto. Sami. Sami. Sami. I'm pretty sure I don't need to mention that this was not, in fact, the name that I'd been expecting to find here. But was this maybe an old nickname of mine, one that I had shoved to the back of my mind and now did not remember?

No... the only person who ever addressed me with such pet-names was my brother, and I had been his Liebchen for as far back as I can recall. Either that or 'Sar' from time to time. My parents either called me by my full name, or 'daughter'. The only times that they ever used affectionate endearments to refer to me was when they'd been particularly abusive and wanted to draw me back into their wicked trap; a kindness that they bestowed upon me less and less in these past few years, it would seem. And let's be real here, shall we? Sami was not a nickname that one might conceivably draw from Saria in any way, shape or form.

What was it, then? A misspelling on Tanya's part? No... if she had put so much effort into transcribing this as neatly as she did, then there was no way she would have accepted making an error of this magnitude. A smudge from the ink was one thing, but writing the entirely incorrect name onto a box of one of her children's things? I know my mother. That would not do, in her eyes. Which made it stand to reason that Sami was not me, but some other person entirely. But who?

There was only one way to find out, and luckily for me, the box was already opened, meaning I would not have to go tearing off sellotape or trying to pry the lid apart. Heaving a giant sigh, I reached into the box, and pulled out the first item that my fingers could grab hold of. A small, blue onesie, the kind that a newborn baby might wear. It was so tiny, the bear that I'd flung across the room earlier could no doubt have fit within it. I ran my fingers up and down the soft fabric, closing my eyes as I tried to imagine an infant wrapped within its softness. Holding my arms out, palms against my elbows, I rocked the onesie back and forth, wondering if perhaps a real life child had once worn it.

Who's to say, maybe this was the name of my old bear, and I'd just forgotten all about it? Maybe Tanya had sewn this for me, in a rare moment of parental kindness? I almost wanted to go over and pick up the teddy again, to garb it within the clothing, wondering if perhaps I might be able to understand more if I did so. Before I could move, however, I stopped myself. There was something more afoot here, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I placed the onesie to one side, neatly folded back into a tiny bundle. Then, I reached again into the box and fumbled around some more, until my hands caught around what was surely a piece of paper. Careful so as not to rip it, I pulled it out, and my suspicions were, thus, confirmed. Yes. There it was. A faded, yellowing bit of parchment that had no doubt seen better days.

With both hands, I smoothed it out, trying to see the words written on it. If only I'd had the foresight to bring a torch up here. I held the paper up to the light, squinting to make out just what was drafted upon this memorandum. It took a bit of time, but eventually I was able to read it. To read the words that would no doubt change my life in ways that I had never, ever expected.

Wazir-Akbhar-Khan National Hospital.

This is to certify that Sami Abdul Ahmed (male) was born to Mahmood Ahmed and Tanya Schmidt Ahmed.

On the date of July 19th, 1958. At 11:03 p.m.

Length: 20 inches.

Weight: 6 pounds 7 inches.

Every word on this bit of paper, this birth certificate, was sending me into a pure and utter tailspin. Over and over did I read them, whispering the names and dates that were immortalised here. Again, part of me wanted to hold tight to my wilting innocence by reassuring myself that this, was, again, simply a mistake that had been made on my birth cert. That instead of 'Sami Abdul Ahmed' it was meant to read 'Saria Adelah Ahmed' and that the date should have been December 05th 1962. I rubbed at my eyes, closing and opening them again, hoping that by doing so, I would read the words that I yearned to. My name. My date of birth. But this was not the case, and in all truth, I had not really expected it to be.

What kind of doctor, no, what kind of idiot would make so many errors? To write the incorrect name of a child was one thing, but to give the wrong date of birth, too? That was an unforgivable error, and I was sure Tanya would not have accepted it. No, if this was my birth certificate, then she would have marched into that hospital, right up to the secretary, and demanded that any mistakes be changed. Not leaving until she got the perfect information detailing the birth of her child. So if this was not my birth cert, then what...

The paper fell from my hands, which were quivering so much I could no longer hold it up. I watched as it fluttered back to the table, landing there, facing upwards, taunting me with its confusing words. The name and date that clawed at the depths of my psyche, that made my stomach churn into knots. What other secrets did this cardboard box hold, what other information about this perplexing Sami Ahmed?

My instincts were screaming at me not to delve into this any further, but since when did I ever listen to my instincts? Pandora's box had been opened and I would not close it until at last all of my family's secrets were laid bare. Deciding to ignore the birth certificate for now, but ensuring myself that I would come back to it in due time, I started to rifle through more of the items in the box. Toys, more little baby clothes, knitted jackets and booties. None of these were what held my attention, though. No... what caught my eye was the scrapbook that was hidden away underneath them.

I took it out, and read the name on the cover. The name that would soon come to haunt my nightmares. Sami Ahmed. "Who are you, Sami?" I whispered, turning the front cover of the scrapbook to view the black-and-white photographs that had been glued inside.

The first was one of Tanya, sitting upright in a hospital bed. Her hair was tousled, and no doubt matted, a tired look on her naked face - which was, I could tell, entirely void of makeup. She wore a spotted white hospital gown, with a robe tied over it. This was the first time that I'd ever seen my mother look so exhausted, so completely out of character, so imperfect. And yet... it was also the first time that I'd ever seen her look so... happy.

She was holding a tiny bundle in her arms, wrapped snugly in a knitted blanket. Her gaze was not focused on the camera, which Mahmood was assuredly holding, but on the infant. A tiny hand was visible, gripped around Tanya's pinkie finger. Tanya's mouth was contorted, as if she were speaking or perhaps singing to the baby in her arms. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and lo, how I wished that I could be a fly on the wall in this moment, to know what words were being uttered to the little one.

I touched my own pinkie finger to the little hand that gripped my mother's, wondering what that felt like, wondering what Tanya must have been thinking as she held this little one that she had just given birth to. How overjoyed she must have been, to have carried this living being in her womb for nine months, and now being able to cradle them, to feel this life that she had just brought into the world. "Who are you, Sami?" I whispered again, some childish part of me hoping that the newborn would speak to me, to yield some answers to the questions that were threatening to rip me into a billion tiny pieces.

Turning the pages of the scrapbook, my eyes beheld more and more photographs. Each of the same hospital room, with the newborn heavily featured in each of them. One of Tanya sitting in an armchair, once more cradling her newborn. One of Mahmood, taken by my mother, standing with his child in his arms, beaming down at him with eyes that misted over just as his wife's had done. On some level, it felt as though, just by looking at these pictures, I was intruding on an extremely intimate and secretive moment of which I had no right to be a part of.

But would that stop me from reading on? Of course not! I flicked to the next page, seeing the photograph that would truly break down my very soul in a way that I would never truly be able to repair it from. The one that would incinerate every fragment of my already broken heart. Even now, I can scarcely bring myself to write about what I saw here, but as I have sworn to be entirely honest in these memoirs and leave not a single detail forgotten, I will do so. No matter how tough it may be for me to continue on.

This final picture was, yet again, one of Tanya sitting in a hospital bed, taken maybe a few days after the very first one. This time, the newborn Sami was entirely visible, so tiny and innocent. But it was not him that I was looking at. My eyes were, this time, drawn to the little boy curled up at Tanya's right side. He must have been about twelve months old, give or take, and was wearing a t-shirt with the words "BEST BIG BROTHER" on the front. Tanya had one armed draped over his shoulder, and he was cuddled close to her. She was looking directly at the camera, whispering something to the laughing toddler next to her.

"Assef!" I gasped, bringing my hand up to my mouth. For there was no doubt in my mind that this was my brother. I stared at him, stared until it felt as though the images had all blurred into one. The look on his face, his eyes wide with delight, his mouth open in childish laughter. Here was Assef, in a moment of rare, true, and beautiful innocence - the likes of which I had known him to truly experience. "Oh, Assef," I whispered, in German. "Oh, Sami..."

Realisation hit me with all the force of a speeding, ten-tonne cargo truck. I had another brother, a big brother who had existed years before I ever came into the world. There had been another Ahmed child, Sami, who had dined at the same kitchen table as me, who had walked these same halls, probably taken his first steps in the very same living room that I did. This was the proof of it. The proof that he had, indeed, been a real and tangible person. And that not one soul in this family had bothered to tell me about him.

I couldn't understand it, no matter how hard I attempted to make sense of everything. If Sami was indeed my brother, then why had nobody mentioned him? Why had I gone twelve years without knowing that he existed? What was so... so wrong with his presence in our lives that it had been swept under the rug like this? And why... why had Assef chosen today of all days to reminisce about him? Why? Why? Why? Fucking hell, would someone just tell me WHY?!

Tears welled and stung at the corners of my eyes, but I hastily wiped them away with the sleeve of my uniform, not wanting to ruin the scrapbook, not wanting to damage the images inside. Flipping the cover shut again, I placed it down onto the table, right on top of Sami's birth cert. I reached into the box again, pulling out the tiny blue onesie and holding it once more within my trembling hands. How different it felt now, knowing that a real infant had once worn this, knowing that someone of my blood had been dressed in these fabrics, had played with these toys.

All of Sami's very existence was concentrated into this box, as if he had left no bigger impact on the world than this. Sequestered into this dingy space within the attic, where nobody ever went up to. The forgotten Ahmed. The Ahmed who's name was never spoken, never mentioned. The Ahmed who might have been a friend to me, who I might have shared a deep, meaningful connection with. Another big brother to protect and look out for me. But that was not to be. I would never know Sami, would never speak to him, never hear his voice, never know what his accent sounded like.

I brought the onesie up to my face, breathing it in. Hoping against hope that it would still hold some of that newborn scent, even after all these years. Of course, there was nothing. The fabric simply held the dank and musty smell of being locked up in this attic for so long. Not one indication that it had ever been worn. I tried to visualise what Sami might have looked like in it, brought home from the hospital, tried to picture him laying in a bassinet, or in Tanya or Mahmood's loving arms. Tried to envision little Assef holding his newborn brother, posing for the camera while their parents cracked jokes and made silly faces to make him laugh.

But I couldn't. Every time I attempted to, I drew a complete blank. It was as if I had no idea how to imagine my family in a happy situation, in a situation where all of them were united in their love for one another. Sami was but a concept to me, a foreign entity rather than a brother that I could ever know or love. Bringing the onesie to my chest, I held it tightly again, feeling my heart beating through it. "What happened to you, Sami?" I asked aloud in this empty space. "What happened to you, big brother? Why does nobody ever speak your name? Why are all the details of your life concealed in this box? Why did my entire family keep you a secret from me, as if ashamed of your very existence?" I clutched the fabric tighter. "Oh, if only you were here now, Sami. If only you could tell me everything. Did you even know you have a little sister? Would you have cared if you did?" I gulped, wanting to cry out to the heavens above for the details that Sami would never be able to give me. "Please, Sami, wherever you are now, give me some sign, anything. Give your baby sister some peace of mind. Tell me what happened to you?"

A voice came from behind me, nearly making me jump right out of my skin. I was no longer alone in this place, though so engrossed was I in crying out to my lost, forgotten brother that I hardly noticed the one who existed within my life right now had made his way up the attic ladder and was now sharing this otherwise quiet and solemn moment with me. "Saria?" he asked, in German, "... what are you doing here?"

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, leaping about a half-foot in the air. I whirled around, tossing the onesie behind me as I did so. "Oh, fuck, Assef... you... you scared me, big brother... What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me like that?" I tried to punctuate the words with a chuckle, but from the look on Assef's face, he was in no mood to joke around.

He stood there, his arms folded across his chest, right in the entrance to the trapdoor. His blue eyes were fixed on mine, as if he couldn't quite believe that I was here. As if he'd been expecting to come up here and be alone, not to come face to face with his little sister. We were both as dismayed to see each other, it would appear. Time seemed to stop as both of us just froze up, each wondering who would be the one to make the first move, and yet neither of us wanting to.

In the end, it was Assef who took the opportunity first. Moving forward, he spoke in gentler, but no less firm tones. "You shouldn't be up here, Saria," he said, in the manner of a parent scolding their disobedient child. He looked at the box which held all of Sami's things, and moved forward again. "What... what are you doing in the attic? Doesn't seem like the type of place that you'd like to spend your time in, now does it? How about we go back downstairs?"

Maybe on some other day, I would have obeyed, would have taken my brother's hand and allowed him to guide me back down the ladder and away from this place. Away from the knowledge of my lost sibling. I would have forgotten all about what I'd discovered here. A more intelligent Saria would have understood that ignorance was bliss, and would have let the matter go. Another day, and I would have left well enough alone. But today was not that day.

I reached behind me on the table, and materialised the scrapbook and birth certificate. "Assef? I... I have something that I need to ask you. Something important, and I really need you to be honest with me, big brother."

"Of course, Saria," Assef replied, and it hit me once again how he had not once called me Liebchen throughout the entire day. "I... I have nothing to hide, you know that. You can ask me anything. But... uhm... why don't we go into my room or something, yeah? I mean, come on, you don't want to be up here with all these mothballs and dust. It'll make you sick. Let's-"

Before he could finish his sentence, I cut across him. "Who is Sami?"

Assef's face drained of all colour, turning him a ghostly white in this otherwise barely lit space. He uncrossed his arms, holding them by his sides. He began to rock back and forth. Looking to all the world as if he was going to collapse to his knees and then fall sideways into a dead faint. Part of me wanted to go to him, to apologise for having clearly upset him in such a way. Before I could take a step, however, I reminded myself that I was not the one in the wrong here. I had every right to know what had happened to this secret brother of mine.

The seconds ticked past, Assef opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, his brow creasing, wanting to answer the question but having no idea as to how to do this. It was pretty obvious that he had not the slightest clue what words to give me that would satisfy my growing curiosity. It was as if I'd hit him with a ten-ton boulder, and had knocked the wind right from out of his body. This only served to frighten me even more. What in God's name could be so wrong with Sami that Assef didn't want to talk about him? That he would react in such a manner to hearing his name? It just boggled my mind to its absolute entirety.

I opened my mouth to speak again - to say what I do not know, but to fill this empty silence that now hung in the air between us. Before I could do so, Assef managed to regroup, and click back into reality. "Who told.." he began, then trailed off, shaking his head. "No... no... you shouldn't... how did you..." He kept his gaze fixed behind me, on the box that contained every bit of Sami's life. As if it was to this box he was speaking, not to me. "How... Saria... you... you shouldn't... you shouldn't know..."

It was so unsettling to see him this way. So out-of-character. Standing there, spluttering and tripping over his words. "You shouldn't know that name, Saria," was the answer that he finally settled on. As if this was the answer that would placate me. He took a step towards me, then hesitated. "It's not something that you-" A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "Come on, back downstairs with me, I've told you enough times. I'm not going to ask again."

The birth certificate trembled within my shaking fingers as I held them out to my brother, who seemed to become even more like a ghost at the sight of it. I pointed to the box, jabbing my finger against Sami's name. "I thought this was mine at first," I told him, "thought that you'd come up here to look through boxes of our old toys. Though I couldn't quite put my mind on why, or why you didn't want me to come up with you. Hell, we could have made a day of it, heaven knows that we needed something to do this afternoon, given the fact that we're banned from going beyond our home's walls."

"Saria-" Assef began.

"But then..." I cut across him, jabbing at the box again. "Then I came up here, and I saw this box. I thought it was my name at first, thought these were my things, my old clothes and toys. It doesn't make sense, I know, but... some part of me hoped.. Prayed that it might be... That I was looking at things from a different angle. But then... then I found this..." I held the birth certificate aloft, seeing it glinting in the light as I once more squinted to read the words that were transcribed upon it. It was harder now than it had been earlier. Perhaps this was due to the fact that my brother was there with me, and I could feel the tension between us, cut like a knife. Yet... I could not keep silent on the matter. "Sami Abdul Ahmed, born to... born to Mahmood Ahmed and Tanya Schmidt Ahmed... J-July 19th 1958..."

I left out his weight and height. Those were of scarce little importance. "This isn't a fake birth certificate, is it, Assef? No, this is real. These are the words confirming that Sami Abdul Ahmed did exist, that he was born, that there were doctors and nurses and midwives and hospital staff who of his existence. I'm not going crazy, I'm not losing my mind. He was real! He did live, somehow, in the years before I did. He was a real, living, breathing person, and I'm the only one in this family who didn't know that."

Assef took a hesitant step closer. He was smiling, but it looked so off. So wrong. As if someone had stitched a wide, ear splitting grin onto his face. The kind of smile that people give to naive, gullible children when they're about to distract them from the hard questions that they might have about situations such as their parent's divorce or the screaming arguments held behind closed doors. "That's a mistake, Saria," he said, in a sugary-sweet, patronising voice. "This whole thing was a mistake, you know? You shouldn't be up here. Hell, I shouldn't be up here. And you shouldn't mention Sami's name. He's... He doesn't... That was all in the past, now. There's so much you don't understand," he trailed off, those final few words being little more than a quiet murmur.

If there were any words that had been created in any of the world's languages that could properly describe how truly frustrating it was to be talked down to my brother. Assef never spoke to me like this, no matter how difficult the conversation might have been. It was one of the reasons why we were so close, why our bond had stood the test of time. He never treated me like a child, never patronised me, or disregarded my feelings, no matter how silly or childish they might have been. Fuck, he was the one who'd let me sleep in his own damn bed on a night when gunshots rocked our community, and who didn't lie and tell me they were fireworks or something equally as mundane.

Why now did he want to treat me like some foolish, spoiled toddler who didn't know what was good for her? For what reason was Sami Ahmed causing him to behave in a way that was so completely wrong... so completely... not like the big brother that I knew and loved ."I'm not stupid, Assef, much as you're trying to treat me like I am."

Another bitter laugh from his mouth. "I'm not trying to treat you like you're stupid, Saria. Come on, do you really think I'd do that to you? To my little sister? All I'm trying to do is protect you from information that you don't need to know about. It's my job as your big brother to look out for you, you know. And-"

My frustrations were growing now, claws inside my body that twisted my intestines, making my stomach churn. If Assef thought for but a fucking second that I was just going to bow down and allow him to treat me this way, then he was the foolish one, and I feel no remorse for saying that. "No, Assef, no! Goddamn it, you do NOT get to lie to me about this. You do not get to brush this shit under the rug and pretend it doesn't exist. You do not get to put this shit-eating grin on your fucking face and pretend like it's nothing." I began rapidly flicking through the pages of the scrapbook, cursing under my breath as I did so. "Oh, where is it, where is it? Where the FUCK is it? Come on, come ON! I need to... AHA!"

Yes, this is what I was looking for. The picture of toddler!Assef sitting next to Tanya in that hospital bed, with Sami in her arms. I held the photo out to my brother, who's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "That's you, isn't it? The smiling little tot there, snuggled up next to our mother, closer than I've ever known the two of you to be. You see the words on that shirt you're wearing?" I violently jabbed my finger into the photograph, once, twice, three times. "BEST!" Jab. "BIG!" Jab. "BROTHER!" Jab. Jab. Jab. One jab after the other, the words screaming at me even as I screamed at my brother. "Or what, are you going to tell me that this is some mistake as well? Is this some other child that randomly wandered in? Some other family who's taken the place of ours?! What silly little excuse are you going to come up with to hide this from me?"

"Keep your voice down!" Assef scolded me, putting a finger up across his lips. "We don't need Hamilra coming along and finding out that we're up here! Stop fucking yelling!"

I snapped back, my voice louder, because honestly, fuck him for trying to get me to calm down. "I'll yell if I fucking choose to, Assef, and you don't get to tell me what to do." This was fast turning into another argument, much like the one that we'd had all those months ago when Zainab had kicked the shit out of me. "You knew about Sami, didn't you? Didn't you?! You know EVERYTHING about him and you still won't tell me. You still stand there and pretend like this is nothing, like the evidence isn't staring you right back in your GODDAMN FACE!" I pointed violently at his younger self again.

The frustrations now were mixing with an overarching depression that hung on me like a rain-cloud in a downpour. Assef had lied to me. Assef knew about Sami, of course he did, of fucking course. Try as I might to deny it, to reassure myself that there had to be some better explanation, I just couldn't do it. I would not lie to myself, I deserved more respect than that.

He lied to me, I thought, glaring at my brother, who was staring back at me with an equally perturbed contortion on his face, all this time, he's been lying to me. All of these years, all of the times where he could have sat me down and told me about Sami. It could have been a moment of bonding for the two of us. But instead, he's kept this from me. My parents are bad enough, I'd have expected them to lie to me, par for the course, really, isn't it? But Assef? My Assef? My big brother, my other half, my best friend? The person who I trust with everything, the person who I'd lay down in traffic for? He's been lying to me, he's been hiding this from me. Something so fucking monumental.

I would accept the fact that Mahmood and Tanya had lied. I'd hate them for it for the rest of eternity, but that was nothing new. Assef, on the other hand, he was meant to be different. Meant to be better. Meant to treat me like an actual human being who deserved to know things, meant to make me feel like I had someone in the world who was on my side. Not sneak around behind my back and try to hide shit from me.

"You lied to me!" I spat, before I could help myself. "You knew I have another big brother, you knew that we're not the only Ahmed siblings who live in this world, and you didn't think that this was important?! You didn't think that I had a right to know about it?! Didn't think that I should be, oh, I don't know, told that Sami fucking Ahmed was my brother?! What, am I not part of this family? Am I not your little sister? Have I no right to be given the information about the brother that I never knew about! Fuck you, Assef, he's MY brother, too. If he's YOUR family, then he's MINE! And I have every right to know about him, and I shouldn't have to sneak up to the fucking attic to look in dust-covered boxes to find out the truth!"

Assef's ghost-white, frozen face, turned crimson with rage. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" he screamed, causing me to jump and shrink back against the table, my hands gripping it so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My brother ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it in his frustration. "You don't have a fucking clue, Saria, you stand there, all high and mighty, pretending like you're some paragon of moral virtue, but you don't have a FUCKING CLUE as to what's actually going on. Have you ever considered that there might be a REASON why I haven't told you anything? Huh? Or are you just trying to get up on your high horse and berate me for shit that you know nothing about?!"

I made to retort, to scream back at him, but he apparently wasn't done with insulting me. "I swear, Saria Adelah, you think you're so fucking smart, don't you? Always in the right, aren't you? Heaven fucking FORBID that someone else might have a reason for their behaviours, yeah? Heaven FORBID that I might have shit I don't want to talk about! You selfish, ungrateful little ingrate BITCH, for all you purport to be so intelligent, you're really just a silly little girl who doesn't know what's best for her!"

Oh, now that had truly lit a raging, burning fire within me! Never before had I been spoken to so disrespectfully, and especially not by the person who was meant to love me more than anyone else in the world. How I wanted to rip the world apart, to scream and cry and throw back every fucking insult that I could think of into my brother's face. I wanted to cut away at his self-esteem as he had cut away at mind. But then I thought of something that would really hurt!

Before I could stop myself, I was waving the birth cert and scrapbook above my head. "Maybe you're right, Assef," I spat sarcastically, "maybe I AM just a silly child who needs you to tell me what's best. Maybe I don't know shit. But you know what I do know? Huh? If you REALLY cared about Sami, then you would have told me about him. You wouldn't have hid this from me. Clearly you don't give a FUCK about this secret brother of ours. So you know what..."

In this moment of true insanity, I held the scrapbook and birth cert right where Assef could see them. "Why don't we get rid of these, huh? Just rip them up into tiny little pieces where nobody else will be able to find them? Then we can smash up all of his toys, and cut up his clothes. How does that sound, big brother? We can sweep this whole thing under the rug, just like you want to. I'll be your good, obedient and dutiful little sister that does whatever you want and doesn't question anything. Is that what you want? Huh? IS IT?!"

With quivering hands, I began to slowly rip apart the paper in my hands. I could see the horrified look on my brother's face, and I knew that I was hurting him by doing this, but I didn't care. He had hurt me, and so, this was the retribution that he deserved. If it took me ripping this paper for him to see how he was the one in the wrong here, then so be it. I barely made a dent within the parchment, however, before Assef darted across the room, with all the speed of a hunting cheetah, and the ferocity of one, too.

He caught hold of my upper arm with one hand, and dragged me towards him, the other grappling desperately for the scrapbook and birth certificate. We were now almost nose-to-nose, and I could see the fury that permeated my brother's eyes. "Give those to me, Saria," he commanded, even as I tried to hold the items away from him. "I'm not fucking around anymore. Give them over now, you fucking cunt, and let this be an end to your disobedience!"

"Oh, is that the problem now?" I shot back, become evermore heated with each passing moment. "My disobedience?" I tried to pull away from my brother, but his grip on my arm was so tight that I couldn't move. "Oh, of COURSE that's what you're going to focus on, we couldn't possibly confront the fact that you lied to me, now could we? You fucking kept this huge secret from me for my ENTIRE LIFE, and excuse me if I'm a bit fucking pissed off at you!"

Assef tightened his grip on my arm, his fingers squeezing tightly through my uniform. He began to angrily jostle me back and forth, making my teeth rattle in my mouth. The exasperation had been cultivating within me was slipping away now, as my brother continued to shake me with such force I worried that he was going to give me whiplash. "Let go!" I cried, tears welling in my eyes. "You... you... you're hurting me, Assef! Let go of my arm, please! Please let me go!"

My words were falling entirely on deaf ears, it would seem. Instead, the vise-like grip that he had on my flesh tightened to the point where I could literally feel the bruises that were going to appear. I cried out in pain, terrified that he might dislocate my arm, but he just ignored me, his attention solely preoccupied with the items I was holding away from him. "I swear, Saria, I swear... if you rip up one PAGE of that scrapbook, if you even THINK of destroying Sami's things, then I will never, EVER speak to you again. Don't fucking test me on this one, damn you! Do as I tell you, NOW!"

Should I have done what he said? Should I have just let the issue drop? Should I have given over the items that were now clutched within my trembling hands? Yes. Yes maybe that would have caused this argument to end. It had gone on long enough, had it not? But I had gone too far to back down now, and so I kept holding onto the birth cert and scrapbook, turning away from my brother as he continued to grapple with me over them. "Fuck you, Assef, fuck you for lying to me, fuck you for treating me like shit! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!"

I continued to scream at the top of my lungs even as Assef managed to catch hold of the scrapbook, holding firm even as I attempted to tug it away. "LIAR, LIAR, LIAR!"

"DAMN IT, SARIA!" Assef screamed back. "WHAT IS THE FUCKING MATTER WITH YOU? WHY CAN'T YOU DO AS YOU'RE TOLD! LET GO!" We continued to struggle, with me trying in vain to pry his hands from off of the materials that I had clutched within my grasp. And then, then it happened, before either of us could do anything to stop it.

As if in slow motion, I watched as the scrapbook and birth certificate began to tear. The spine coming apart, pages flying up into the air, images being unglued as they, too, split into pieces. I tried to stop it, oh, how I tried, but there was no getting away from this cornucopia of devastation as it happened. Eventually, Assef and I found ourselves standing there, surrounded by tattered pieces of the scrapbook that had once contained all the memories of Sami's life. We were both each clutching onto one half of Sami's birth certificate, me holding the part that contained his name, and Assef the part which stated his date of birth.

Assef took a step backwards, dropping his half of the scrapbook, his mouth dropping open in horror. "No!" he cried, shaking his head as if trying to make this all go away. "No, no, no! Why, Saria, why?! Why would you do this?!"

Any and all indignation that I might earlier have felt towards my brother had completely disintegrated now, making way for a guilt that was so crippling, it threatened to bring me to my knees. What had I done? What had I done?! Why couldn't I have just left the matter alone, instead of trying to manipulate Assef into giving me answers that he clearly didn't want to tell me? Now look at what had happened! My brother's words rung out in my head: "If you even think of destroying Sami's things, then I will never, ever speak to you again!"

The thought that I had broken Assef's faith in me, that I had shattered his trust, that I had hurt him so viscerally, was horrifying. My conscience began screaming at me, calling me all of the horrific names under the sun, far worse than anything my brother had said earlier. "I'm... I'm so sorry, Assef," I whispered. I tried to go to him, to take his hand in mine and get him to see how truly I regretted the pain I had obviously caused him, but my feet wouldn't move. "I didn't mean to, I... I was... I just..."

Then, I looked into my brother's eyes. They had darkened entirely, the once vibrant blue that had shone with love and devotion for me were now blackened with rage, with a coldness that had never once been directed at me before. This was the look that he gave to Mojdeh as he'd dragged her out from that undergrowth. The look that he gave Zainab as he watched me stab her to death. It was the look of unbridled hatred that he showed to all of our enemies, and now, he was looking at me like that. It was the most frightening thing that I'd ever seen.

"I'll clean this all up!" I spluttered, holding my hands out placatingly. "I promise, Assef, I'll pick everything up and... and... I'll glue it all back together, I swear! No matter how long this t-takes, I swear, I'll make this all better. I'm so-"

The words died in my throat, the apology never coming to fruition. Assef siezed me by the collar of my uniform, almost lifting me boldly off of my feet, and threw me with such violent force that I crashed sideways, right into the table. A terrified howl of both pain and fear burst forth from my lips as my body crashed onto to the ground, the table and box being dragged down with me as I went ass over teakettle, landing in amongst this pile of toys, clothes and books. There I lay, a searing pain shooting right up through my chest.

I placed a hand on the floor, scrabbling onto my knees as I attempted to get back to my feet. Before I could get even halfway up, Assef clenched his fist, and pumped it behind his head, swinging it into my face, causing me to tumble onto the ground again. The world began to spin, my eyes disoriented, an untold agony forming within every part of my core. Not from being struck, but from the person who had done it. My brother. My other half. My soulmate. The person who I loved and cherished above and beyond all others. The person who was supposed to protect me from the abuse that I so often found myself being the victim of within these walls. And now... now he was the one who had given me cause to fear him.

Assef snapped back into reality as he gaped down at me, his eyes wide, an expression of pure horror on his face. "Saria..." he breathed, "Oh, oh my God, Saria... I didn't mean..." He extended a hand to try to guide me back upright. I shrieked as he did so, throwing my hands up to protect myself, terrified that he might become violent again. "Saria, please, please, let me help you, please, let me..."

"NO!" I violently flung his hand from off of my shoulder, leaping to my feet. Assef tried to reach for me again, but I shoved him away. "No, no, no! Get away from me! GET AWAY FROM ME!" With that, I sprinted towards the trapdoor, almost falling over myself as I desperately tried to climb down the ladder, my feet slipping through the rungs, one hand clutched around my stomach as the other held tightly to the bars. From above me, I could hear my brother yelling my name, hastening to go after me. When I was almost at the end of the ladder, I closed my eyes, and unclenched my fingers from around the rungs, permitting myself to fall to the ground.

I landed heavily on my knees, which burned with yet more pain. That might not have been the wisest choice, but I had no time to wax poetic on that, as I heard my brother calling to me from up above. "Saria!" he exclaimed, and I knew that he was already making his way down the ladder to me. I leapt to my feet, once more screaming for him to leave me alone. Tripping and stumbling across the hallway, I fell through the door of my bedroom, which I slammed shut behind me, keeping one hand against the wood, pushing it shut, desperate to keep my brother from getting in.

My eyes scanned the area, looking for something, anything that I could drag in front of the door to prevent Assef from getting to me. My vanity desk? No... no, I didn't have the strength to pull that over here, not in my condition, and by the time I moved away from the door, I was certain that Assef would be right on my tail. I glanced towards the bed, which stood about two feet above the ground, the sheet hanging down over the sides of it. The footsteps grew louder across the hall, and I knew that within mere nanoseconds, Assef would be in the room with me. There was nothing for it, then, this was my only option!

Dashing across the room, I rolled under the bed and lay there, knees drawn to my chest, hidden from view. And just in time, too, as the door creaked open, and my brother stepped inside. "Saria?" he called out, and I heard him making his way around the room, throwing open the door to my closet, rifling through the skirts and dresses and coats, as if hoping to find me sequestered within there. "Saria, please... please... I know you're in here somewhere..." A sob burst forth from my chest before I could stop it, making Assef turn towards the bed.

Through the little gap under the sheet, I was able to see him drop down to his knees. He caught hold of the sheet and made to lift it up, but paused. Something must have convinced him that this was a bad idea, for he backed away and for a moment, there was nothing but my heaving sobs and his ragged gasps. Then, Assef began to speak, his voice trembling with every single word, as if speaking in and of itself was a difficulty.

"I'm so sorry, sister," he whispered, "so, so, sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear it. I should never have laid my hands on you, dear God, it kills me inside knowing that I did. I... I'm so... Please, come out from under the bed, Saria, please, I won't hurt you again. I swear it. Just please, let me hold you. Let me try to make this better."

He paused, and for another moment, I worried that he might try to reach under the bed and drag me out. Who could put it past him, when he had done the same thing to Mojdeh not twenty-four hours previously? Before, I would have laughed at the idea that my brother would forcefully remove me from a place where I could find some relative comfort and safety, but before... well.. he was not the one that I would need to hide from. Even to this day, I can scarcely bring myself to remember the terror I felt in this moment without wanting to scream until my throat bleeds and my lungs burn.

Assef continued to plead for me to emerge from my hiding spot. "Come out, please, Saria. You have nothing to fear from me, I swear it, I swear it on my very life, just please, Liebchen, please, come out." My heart skipped a beat as I heard that most precious nickname from his lips, and part of me wanted to go to him, wanted to crawl into his arms and feel the reassurance of my other half's gentle, comforting ministrations. I wanted him to hold me close, to make all of the pain go away. But then, I placed a hand against my bruised cheek, remembering that he was the one who had done this to me, and I couldn't do it.

"I just..." I whispered, my voice quivering like that of a frightened child, "I... I just wanted to know about Sami. That's all. I was just so hurt to think that you had kept something so... so important from me. It made me feel as though I didn't matter to you." Those last words poured like a faucet from out of my lips before I could get them back in, and I heard my brother inhale sharply.

"You do!" he breathed, with all of the desperate pleading of a man crying out for water in the desert. "You matter, Liebchen, you matter so much. You're the only person who matters to me in this whole damn world. And you're right, you know what? You're completely right about everything. I should have told you about Sami, should have told you all about him from the very beginning, it was wrong of me to keep this from you." I turned away from him, turned to face the wall, staring at the peeling paint with tears rolling down my cheeks.

I wanted to tell him to fuck off, to get out of my sight and never, ever even look at me again. Wasn't he the one who had threatened the very same to me? Why should I not oblige his wishes? Why shouldn't I throw out the person who had thrown me across a room and then punched me in the goddamn face, even if that person was my own brother? Especially if that person was my own brother.

But I... I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Out of fear of his reaction, out of fear that if I started another argument, it would cause our relationship to become even more unglued than it already was. So instead, I just lay there, sobbing, as Assef continued to speak. "I'm going to tell you about Sami, Liebchen," he told me, "I'm going to tell you every sordid, little detail. You deserve to know the truth, and that's exactly what you will receive."

Squeezing my eyes closed, I hugged myself tighter, ignoring the pain that this caused in my ribs. "You did have another brother," Assef said. Past tense, I thought, with a sinking feeling in my gut, but again, was too afraid to interrupt. "Sami Abdul Ahmed. He was born the year after I was, and he was the light of Mahmood and Tanya's lives. They... I was too young to really remember much about the day he was born, but the picture you showed me, of us three in the hospital together, it's like this feeling of true joy, you know? All of the toys that I have up in the attic, they were all given to me around the time that Sami was born. As if our parents were so overjoyed to have this new life brought into the world that they wanted me to share in that same delight with them."

"Sami and I... we were so close growing up, Liebchen. He was the first real friend that I had in this world. We used to play together every day. That's what I remember most about the years before you were born. Me and Sami, laughing, and chasing each other 'round the house, making mischief wherever we went. He was so funny, Liebchen, so, so funny... He just had this way about him, you know? He could make even the most serious of people crease up. I just know he would have made you smile if you knew him. No matter how sad you were, Sami would bring you right out of that stupor."

He sounds like he was the sweetest little boy, I thought, remembering the toys that had fallen out of the box. Now, I could imagine Sami and Assef playing with them. Maybe he and I could have gotten along. But as those words formed in my mind, something prevented me from letting them out.

Assef paused for the longest moment before speaking again. "There was this one day, when I was four and Sami was three, and we were playing together as we always did. Hide-and-seek. That was our favourite game, did I tell you that?" He laughed bitterly. "I remember, I was hiding in that little closet under the stairs, waiting for him to come and find me. But he never did, and eventually, I got tired of waiting, and I was the one who decided to go looking for him. I figured he might have gotten bored of our game and wandered off without coming to get me. He did that sometimes, you know? Anyway, I eventually made my way into the back garden; the door was left open. Over to the pool..."

Oh, how I yearned to make him stop talking. Yearned to prevent myself from learning about the truth that I knew was coming. The pool... the pool... Filled with water, three year old boy... running about outside... You didn't need to be a genius to understand what was coming next. I rolled over so that I was now facing my brother, who was so haggard as he knelt there on the carpet, trying to uncover the words to explain what a part of me already knew. "I saw this little body in the water, floating face down. I didn't... I didn't understand what that mean at the time, Saria. The only thing I cared about was that Sami had gone swimming when we were supposed to be playing hide-and-seek. And that's what I focused on when I went back inside to find Tanya."

Drawing my knees even closer against myself, I began rocking from side to side. "Tanya was sitting in the living room, reading a book. I marched right up to her, and I told her, point blank, that Sami had gone swimming while I was hiding and waiting for him to come find me. She didn't understand what I meant at first. But then I repeated myself and she... she was up and out of the door within seconds. She just... jumped right into the pool, clothes and all, and dragged Sami from out of the water. That was when I knew that something was wrong."

"Tanya was screaming. That's what I can never forget about that day, Liebchen, her screams. They were... you've never heard anything quite like it, and I hope that you never do. She held his dripping wet little body and just screamed. And then, Mahmood must have called for an ambulance, I guess, because the next thing I knew, there were paramedics running in and taking Sami from out of Tanya's arms. She went with him in the ambulance, and Mahmood drove me to the hospital. Where they told us... they... they told us..."

I bit down on my tongue to the point where I could taste the rust of fresh blood. "The doctor who told us that Sami had died, I'll never forgot his face, never. Tanya let out this most bloodcurdling scream, like a dying wild animal. One minute, she was standing there, and the next, she was on her knees in this cold, hospital waiting room, screaming, and crying out to God. I didn't understand what was going on at the time, how could I? I was just a kid, the concept of death hadn't even been explained to me yet. But I knew that something terrible had happened."

By now, I was full on sobbing. "Our family changed the day that Sami died, Liebchen. We never spoke his name, never even mentioned that he existed. Mahmood packed up all of his things and put them into that box in the attic and told us that we weren't allowed to go up there again. It destroyed Tanya, sister, she was never the same again. She blamed me for what happened, something that she still tells me to this very day. I didn't tell you about Sami because... because..." He couldn't say the words. "It's Sami's anniversary, today, Liebchen. That's why everyone's been acting so strange. That's why our parents aren't here. And that's why I went up to the attic. I... I guess I just wanted... I wanted to..."

"You..." I choked out, speaking for the first time, "you sound like you loved Sami a lot." An odd feeling settled through me as I said this, making my toes curl within my socks.

"I did," Assef replied. "I loved him very much. I think a part of me always will. But... Saria... you... There is nobody in this world that I love more than you." His voice broke, and he had to pause before speaking again, "you are the reason that I wake up in the morning. I live every day for you, to see you smile. Without you, I don't know if I'd even be able to survive this awful family of ours. I think I'd have snapped a long time ago, were it not for the true joy and levity that you bring to my life. And I... Nothing will ever make me feel more terrible than knowing that I laid my hands on you. You are my other half, Saria, my reason for breathing. I'm so, so so sorry that I lied to you, that I hit you, that I made you feel unloved and unwanted. That's the highest form of blasphemy, my love, and I know there's no way for me to ever make up for what I did, but I'm begging you, Saria, please let me hold you. I need to hold you. Just please... Please, my love..."

Finally, I crawled out from under the bed. I looked up at my brother's red-rimmed eyes, as he held his arms out to me. "Assef," I mewled, granting him his wish, and letting him pull me into his arms.

He clutched me against him, his tears mingling with my own as we held one another. "Please, forgive me, my love," Assef whispered into my hair, "please forgive me for everything I did to you, for even dreaming of hurting you like I did. I'm so sorry, so truly, very sorry."

My voice was muffled as I spoke. "I'm sorry, too, Assef. I shouldn't have pushed the issue. Not when you didn't... when it's clearly still so painful for you. And I'm truly sorry for ripping up Sami's things. I was never really going to tear them up. I just... I just..."

Assef lifted my head off of his shoulder and placed his finger under my chin, so that we were both looking each other in the eye. "I don't care about that, Liebchen, I really don't. Those are just things, memories of a person who's long since dead and buried. I... I would burn everything in that attic to dust if it meant that I'd be able to gain your forgiveness for the things that I've done to you. That I would be able to even begin to make restitution for my blasphemy. I love you, Saria, I love you more than anything, and anyone in this world. More than I love myself. Please forgive me, my love, please, I'll do anything. I can't live without you. Forgive me, forgive me, please, my love, forgive me."

"I love you too, my Assef," I whispered, causing him to tense up as he wasn't expecting me to say this. "I love you, and I forgive you. I just... I just want to move past this whole mess now."

My other half pulled me to him again, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he let out a bitter half-sob. He lifted my hands and began kissing my fingertips, a tingling sensation running over me as he did so. "Thank you, my love, thank you. You have no idea what this means to me. You won't regret this, I promise. I'll make things right between us again, I swear it. Oh, I love you so much, my dearest, darling, beautiful Saria, I love you. My life, my sun, my stars, my moon, my world, my love, my universe."

As his voice trailed off, we just held each other, rocking back and forth, Assef whispering murmured platitudes and repeatedly telling me how much he loved me, as if hoping that by saying the words enough times, then I would believe them. And I did. Oh, of course I did. Assef was my world, he was the centre of my life. I loved him with the same tenacity as he did me. I knew that he meant it when he told me he would never hurt me again. And, I knew that we would come out stronger for all of this.

But as I felt my tears drip down onto my bruised cheek where Assef had struck me, and as I was hit with the memory of his hands, the same hands that were now holding me as if I were some religious statue, throwing me to the ground like a piece of filth, a coldness washed over me. The trust between my soulmate and I had been broken, and try as I might to convince myself that everything would be okay again, in the back of my mind, I wondered if the damage that had been caused on this day was truly irreparable.


And... wow! This is probably the longest chapter that I've ever written, and probably my favourite by far! I was so excited to get this one done that I just dedicated the last few days to doing it. I'm so happy to have it done and to be sharing it now.

In the next chapter, Saria spends the night at Adia's house, as the two best friends have a sleepover together. But what starts as a night of childish fun and laughter soon turns sour as Masood's illness takes centre stage and Saria witnesses firsthand just how terribly sick Adia's brother actually is.

Look for that, coming up within the next few months. As always, comments, feedback, and review are more than welcome and encouraged!

Thank you to all of my readers, again!