In the last chapter, the Ahmeds took a trip to the hospital to visit Masood. The day took a turn when Saria learned that Mojdeh was staying in that same hospital - leading to her and Assef paying the girl a visit and threatening her into keeping her silence. Now, we find Saria back in the classroom, but this is no ordinary school day.

As always, please note that I do not own the Kite Runner or any of its characters, plot points, dialogue or settings. I also must make clear that I do not condone the actions, thoughts, behaviours or anything displayed by the characters here. This is merely a work of fiction and should be taken as such.

With that said, please enjoy! Feedback always welcome!


"Settle down, girls, settle down!" Mermon Yashfa's voice rang out throughout the classroom, audible and distinct even above the typical noise of giggling preteens, chairs being scraped back, and the rustling of paper and pencils as some of us - myself included - rustled around in our bags for the items that we would need for the lessons that we would be facing into this morning. I removed my maths textbook out of my satchel and was half bent out of my chair to grab up a pencil that I'd accidentally dropped, when Mermon Yashfa spoke again, with more urgency this time. "I have something very important that I need to discuss with you all this morning, and I will need your full attention to do so. Stop whatever you're doing, and eyes on me. Now, please."

Having given up on my attempt to retrieve this fallen pencil, which had now rolled under my shoe, I readjusted my position so that I was staring expectantly up at the teacher who stood behind her desk, hands resting upon the wood, looking around at all of her students, who, like me, were now intrigued as to know what she needed to speak to us about. Understandable, honestly; it was rare that we had to begin a school morning with an announcement, and it was clear from the inquisitive looks on the faces of the other girls, that we were all united in wondering what, exactly, was going on.

Once she was satisfied that we had given her our full and complete attention, Mermon Yashfa began to disclose the information that she needed to share with us. There was a look in her eyes that I couldn't quite make out, though it wouldn't take long before the reasoning behind this would be revealed, and for me, at least, this was undoubtedly a case of 'ignorance is bliss'.

"Thank you, girls. What I have to say to you all is of the utmost importance, and I do not want to hear a sound while I am talking. Not a murmur. Not a whisper. Do I make myself clear?" We all nodded in collective unison, and she continued. "As I'm sure you're all aware, this school and our community at large have been rocked by two extremely tragic, and horrific events that took place within the last year." No, I thought, my brain conveniently developing the words to protect myself from what I knew Mermon Yashfa was talking about. No, I don't know what you're talking about. These must be some new tragedies. Yes, of course, of course. Because you could not be referring to- "I'm talking, of course, about the murder of Zainab Niazai and the violent beating of Mojdeh Tarin."

Ah yes, there it was. The words that I knew were coming, despite how much I wished, in all honesty, that she was speaking of some other events. An ominous feeling swept over the classroom at the mention of Zainab's name. Beside me, Adia shifted uncomfortably in her chair, scratching the back of her neck. Several of Zainab's friends let out pathetic little cries, the kind that made me want to throw my eyes up to heaven. I wanted to remind the little idiots of all the type of person that Zainab really was, of all the times she had been acted like a spoiled brat, or made a snide comment, or just been her annoying, bitchy self.

But the general aura that settled over the room was, in fact, one of confusion. I noticed a few of the girls giving side-ways glances to each other, Ahtrai and all of her Posse of Dipshits included. For this, I don't think I can blame them, in truth. I too found myself wondering why Mermon Yashfa had chosen now to bring up Zainab and Mojdeh. Aside from requesting a moment of silence for Zainab when we first returned to school, and a brief "I am certain I speak for everyone in this room when I say that we wish Mojdeh a speedy and full recovery" when the news broke of what had happened to her. That was all. No dwelling on it, no long or drawn out speeches. Just a few words of condolences that would do nothing to bring Zainab back or provide real comfort for her grieving friends and family, nor would they be of much benefit to Mojdeh, who I'm sure was still full to the brim with the terror my Assef and I had imparted upon her during our trip to the hospital.

"The local police force have been working diligently in order to ensure that whoever committed these horrible crimes is brought to swift justice," Mermon Yashfa continued, and luckily, I managed not to turn my nose up the mention of the police - who were, full offence to them, ranked quite highly on my enemy list - just below Ahtrai and my parents. "And this school has been doing our part alongside them, keeping in constant communication with the officers assigned to these cases, as it is of extreme importance that we all come together and do our bit in helping to keep this community safe."

One might even say 'grave' importance, in the case of Zainab, I thought, snickering internally at my gallows humour. Mermon Yashfa took a deep breath, and another heavy silence permeated the air as she looked over each of us individually. Her eyes fell on me, sitting there so prim and pretty and proper in my freshly washed and ironed uniform, nothing out of place, a model of the perfect student, and the typically harsh look on her face softened, if only for a moment. I was her favourite, after all, and for that reason alone, I had to commend her. I was feeling a little more at ease now. Hopefully this was just a speech praising the virtues of law enforcement, and we would all get back to normalcy soon enough. Hell, I was even looking forward to the math pop quiz that had been promised to us earlier in the week, if it meant I never had to hear about the fucking police again.

And then it came. The bombshell that almost knocked the wind right out of me. "In order to help the police with their investigation, two officers will be coming here today to speak with all of you." My heart seemed to seize up in my chest. My arms and legs became clammy with sweat, droplets forming upon my trembling hands. No. No, this wasn't happening. This was not happening. It couldn't be. The police could not be coming here - this was some horrific nightmare that I would wake up from, hopefully soon. All I had to do was blink and I'd return to the safety of my bedroom. Then I could go to my other half and climb into his bed, feel his warm, safe arms around me, hear his words of sweet reassurance as I told him of my ordeal.

I blinked. I was still in the classroom, surrounded by girls who looked confused about Mermon Yashfa's words, though not one expression displayed the terror that I felt. I blinked again, this time holding my eyes closed for a few seconds longer. Three seconds. Four seconds - I'll open them again on five and when I do, I'll wake up, I told myself, taking a deep breath. Five. Seconds. My eyelids fluttered, the silence in the room so deafening that I could hear my own lashes as I opened them. Nothing had changed, only now the terror that I felt had become evermore palpable. I was in the midst of such a grave state that I wanted to scream, to let out the most bloodcurdling shriek that would not end. But even as I thought this, I knew that if I were to open my mouth, no sound would come from my lips.

Mermon Yashfa was speaking again, and I know that her words held great importance, but I would be remiss if I lied and told you that I remembered what she was saying at that exact moment. She could have been singling me out, telling me that the police were coming because I'd left some piece of evidence behind, and that I was going to be arrested, and my reaction would have been to sit there and give her a blank, expressionless nod. I was so far gone in my panic that I'd stepped right off the diving board, spiralled in mid-air and plunged into the black depths of apathetic numbness. As if my own mind was trying to protect itself from the horrific 'what if's' that would have destroyed my very soul had I permitted them to consume me. Letting me drift off in my subconscious to some parallel universe where this was all an awful nightmare and I would soon awaken only to go through a typical, tedious school day with no law enforcement coming to visit.

But then... there came a knock upon the classroom door that jolted me back into reality. Once, twice, three times, loudly and in quick succession. So forceful, in fact, that I nearly toppled out of my seat, that's how shocked I was. It was only through some miracle that I managed to keep a hold of the chair's edges and resist making a total fool of myself but landing in a messy heap on the floor. I stared at the door, half expecting some big, burly officer to kick down the door, drag me out of my seat, turn me around, slam me face-down onto my desk, force my hands behind my back and slap some handcuffs onto my wrists before escorting me into their waiting car - where I would be driven off to the local jail to await trial for murder.

"That must be the officers," Mermon Yashfa said, appearing a bit startled by the knocking. Perhaps she had not expected them to be here so early. She glanced towards the door. The knocking had stopped, but the rapid thumping of my heart against my chest was still ongoing. Don't answer, I begged internally, don't, please. There's no need for the cops to be here, no need at all. Just ignore it, and let's go back to lessons. Please... please... I'll take a million pop quizzes and whatever boring homework assignments you set for me, just please, dear God, please don't open that fucking door!

The words rang out in my head as I stared at Mermon Yashfa, silently pleading with her not to do what I knew was inevitable. For what felt like an eternity, I just stared at her, this woman who held the vestiges of my destiny within her hands. "One moment, please," she said as the knock came again, not taking her eyes off of the door. She took a step towards it, and I wanted to cry out 'Stop! Just fucking stop! Stop knocking! Stop moving! Stop all of this! Stop, stop, STOP!' as loud as was possible. How I wanted to tear my damn hair out as Mermon Yashfa moved ever closer to the door. "I'm going to step outside for a moment to speak to the officers before bringing them in here. I expect you all to behave yourselves while I'm gone."

She cast her infamously stern glare upon all of us, before walking towards the door. Time seemed to slow to a halt as I watched her reach for the doorknob, turn it, and pull the door open, before stepping outside. I kept staring in the direction of the door, straining my ears, in the hopes that in doing so, I might be able to hear the conversation that was happening beyond those walls. Hoping that by doing so, I might be able to glean the information that Mermon Yashfa was discussing with the officers. Were they just filling her in on what they would be discussing with us? Or was something more sinister afoot? Oh, how I wanted to press myself against the door and eavesdrop, not caring one bit whether how 'weird' that made me look. But, of course, I knew that I wouldn't be able to do so. Snide looks and comments from Ahtrai and her friends I might have been able to handle, there was no way I could offer a reasonable explanation for the cops as to why I'd been listening in at the door, now was there?

I chose instead to push any such thoughts to the back of my head. I wouldn't have been able to hear a damn word, anyway. The instant that Mermon Yashfa had stepped outside, the classroom erupted into a flurry of hushed whispers. If our teacher had expected for a second that we would heed her warning and remain quiet, then she had another thing coming. This was the most interesting thing that happened in school, so of course they were going to want to talk about it. In truth, who could blame them?

Silly little girls had to keep their tiny minds occupied somehow, did they not? Even Ahtrai and some of her more obedient lackeys were engaged in this conversation, talking about what this meant, what the police would be talking to us about, whether or not they would be able to give any information about Mojdeh. There was an almost reverent whisper with which they spoke her name, as if they believed that she might be able to hear them talking about her, even from miles away in her hospital room. How funny it was that Ahtrai could have such empathy and concern for a person as awful and nasty as Mojdeh, yet not bother to show me even a inch of that respect, even though I deserved it far more than Mojdeh ever would.

But, really, I was grateful that she and her friends had been distracted, in all honesty. It meant their attention was elsewhere and not on me, which was more than fine in my eyes. I didn't need Ahtrai throwing wads of scrunched-up paper at me, or chucking pencils at my head, or hissing "freak, freak, hey, you fucking freak, look at me while I'm talking to you!" over and over again. What with all the stress that I was currently feeling, I'm not sure I'd have been able to handle such trein atment calmly. It would not bode well for me if when Mermon Yashfa led the officers into our classroom, they walked in on me stuffing a pencil into Ahtrai's throat and beating her bloody with one of my shoes.

Wanting to force all thoughts of Ahtrai out of my mind, I reached down, keeping one hand upon the desk to steady myself, and retrieved the pencil that I had dropped earlier. A few seconds went by as I absently rolled it back and forth between my palms, then tapped the eraser side against the desk, no rhythm just a quick tap, tap, tap. When that failed to distract me, I began to doodle on the top corner of my notebook - nothing entirely noticeable or important, really, just a few stars and hearts to decorate the otherwise white paper. The kinds of doodles that one might expect a child of my age to draw. As I stared down at the little hearts that I was presently shading, I found myself thinking of my other half.

Oh, how I wished with every fibre of my being that Assef was here with me. That I could climb into his arms and feel his warmth, rest my head upon his chest and listen to his heartbeat, close my eyes and let any stress I felt be washed clean away. What I wouldn't give to hear his voice, the soothing accent that to my ears was more beautiful than even the most expertly played symphony. Assef would know just what to say to make me feel better, of that I was absolutely certain. He always did, it was one of the many wonderful things about him.

I pictured him lifting my hand in his, kissing my fingertips. 'It's going to be alright, Liebchen,' I imagined him saying, 'whatever happens today, we'll make it through. These cops have nothing on us, my beloved Saria. After all, we have managed to evade the law for this long, and we can do it again. Just trust in me, sweet sister, and I will make sure everything works out.' Yes, those were the gentle words that he would speak to offer comfort to the frazzled mind of his precious Saria. And try as I might to repeat those same phrases in my head to supply to assuage my fears, it was a useless endeavour. Nobody could soothe me in the way that Assef did, not even myself.

The unmistakable sound of the doorknob turning broke me out of this reverie. I immediately ceased scribbling on my notebook, flipping to the next page and laying the pencil in a neat line across the top of it. Straightening upright in my chair, I placed my hands over top of the other, then placed them in my lap. My stomach churned as I watched, almost as if in slow motion, as the door began to open again. It creaked as though this were a horror movie - or was that perchance my overactive imagination playing tricks on me? Either way, there was nowhere for me to go. I could not run from this - even though I wanted to. Hence, it was of the utmost importance that when those cops stepped through that door, I gave them zero reason to look at me any differently from the other girls in the class.

Everyone else in the room also went into action upon hearing the door re-opening. Those who had left their seats to chat with their friends now scurried back to them. Ahtrai was muttering to the girl sat behind her, though I neither knew nor cared what they were discussing. I wasn't about to involve myself in their discussion. We all know how that would have ended, now don't we? Besides, there was nothing of greater importance to me in that moment than the people who were stepping through the doorway.

Mermon Yashfa entered first, a most somber look upon her face. She held open the door and turned to the officers who were still standing in the outside hallway. "Come in, Officers, please," she said, in what I could only discern to be a most polite, almost saccharine tone. Or... not... I thought, you know, you don't have to come in here, really. It's fine. We're all aware of what happened to Zainab and Mojdeh, well fucking aware, in my case. We don't need to discuss this any further. I'm sure you have more important business to be dealing with - so why don't you both just piss off back to the station?!

A male voice responded, in a gruff tone. "Of course, Mermon Yashfa, thank you." I rolled my eyes. How polite they were, referring to one another with their respective terms. Though, in all fairness, I suspected that was only being done for our benefit. Then, the two officers entered the room, and a feeling of complete and utter dread passed through me.

To anyone else, they might have seemed entirely innocuous. The male officer was tall with slicked back, dark hair, and stubble on his chin that would not, or perhaps could not, grow into a beard. His female co-worker was a head shorter than him - though probably still about 5'9, and had a quieter demeanour than that of her partner. She had shoulder-length, dark auburn hair that curled slightly at the ends, and green eyes. Normal. That's how they both looked - entirely normal. It was unsettling to see.

They look like two people that one might pass on the street, I thought, staring at the officers with an emotion akin to disbelief. Take away the police uniforms and the badges and everything else - and they'd be just like anybody else. Just a man and woman like any other. But... they're not like anybody else, are they? They're the monsters under the bed, the bogeyman and woman hiding in the closet, ready to lunge out and drag me down into their abyss. Well, I'm not going to let that happen, no! I won't! You won't get the better of me, you pieces of shit.

Mermon Yashfa gestured to the officers. "Girls," she said, "these are Officer Baset and Officer Delkash." She gestured to the male and female officers in turn. "Can you all give them a warm and polite welcome to our school?" We echoed a collective statement for our, in my case, extremely unwanted guests, like the pre-programmed robots that I knew Mermon Yashfa wanted us all to be in this moment. She smiled smugly as if to say 'see, Officers? See what dutiful, obedient and well-behaved little girls I teach? See how respectful that they are?' "Good," she praised, "now, as I said to you earlier, they are here to speak to you about the tragedies that have befallen our community as of late. I expect that all of you will listen carefully to everything they have to say and show them the respect that is their due."

If I did that then I'd have stood up and spat in both of their faces, and that would not have gone over well, now would it? So instead, I would keep the mask of deference on my face, confident in knowing that they could not read my thoughts - and that within my mind, I could berate them and be assured that I was safe in doing so. Scum, I thought in the recesses of my mind, as Officer Baset moved to stand at the top of the classroom, facing us all. Worthless scum. You have no right to be in my presence.

"Good afternoon, girls," Officer Baset said, smiling brightly as he scanned the room. I don't know if he expected us to respond in kind, but since we had already greeted him and his partner, we weren't about to repeat the same. He cleared his throat, before continuing. "I will not beat around the bush or sugarcoat anything here. The reason that my partner and I have come to speak to you on this day is due to the circumstances of Zainab Niazai's murder and the attack on Mojdeh Tarin that took place within the past year." Yet again, there came that uncomfortable feeling that settled through the room as those two names were mentioned. It was as if every single one of us was haunted by the mere memory of what had been done to these girls - though in my case, said haunting was due to the fact that even the slightest slip-up would cause me to face dire consequences.

The officer must have noticed the somber atmosphere that had crossed over the room. "When I look at all of your faces, so bright and full of potential, so eager to learn and to make something of yourselves, I am faced with the harrowing understanding and remembrance of the two young ladies who are not present at this moment - one of whom will never get the opportunity to sit in this classroom ever again. Who shall never again have her voice be heard, or achieve the many dreams that she and her grieving family have set out for her. I am reminded also of a girl who, instead of being in here in school with her friends, is lying in a hospital bed, struggling to heal both physically and mentally from the deplorable violence done upon her."

What about the girl that the dead bitch attacked? I wondered. Who felt herself being stomped into the ground and kicked in the ribs? Who was left in an alleyway and had to struggle her way home - with her chest burning in pain. Or how about the girl who had to deal with poor, hospitalized Mojdeh, bullying her and her best friend on a daily basis. Who went to school every day and had to deal with the cruel jabs, the snide comments. Who had to watch as poor, sweet, frightened Adia was shoved about and called names. Who had to see Adia crying over a hurtful word that Mojdeh and Ahtrai had spoken to her. Who was almost knocked to the ground and then laughed at because of it. Are you going to mention that at all, Officer? Are you?!

But no. Oh, no. We cannot speak ill of the sick or the dead, now can we? Regardless of what trash those people might have been. Baset continued. "I cannot begin to imagine what it must feel like for all of you, to have such terrible crimes committed against two of your own. And it is for this reason that I must make it abundantly clear that the police are doing every thing we can to ensure that the perpetrators of those crimes are brought to justice. We all know and understand that said justice will never, ever bring Zainab back to us, nor will it repair the pain that Mojdeh has suffered, but it will ensure that the person responsible shall never, ever have the chance to do this to anybody else again."

I had to remind myself not to burst out laughing at his words. To not even crack the tiniest of smiles. How's that working out for you? I wanted to ask. Obviously not too good, considering the perpetrator of both these crimes is sitting right in front of you, and has been able to get away with it for so long, and hasn't been caught just once. Why, I was even able to sneak into Mojdeh's hospital room and traumatise her all over again, and nobody is any the wiser about that! But please, oh mighty and great police officers, do tell us foolish neanderthals of the effort you are putting in to finding this dreadful, monstrous criminal.

Whatever sense of ego that I had developed in that moment, however, was deflated as quickly as it came. Officer Delkash stepped forward, scanned the room, then took over from what her colleague was saying. "The reason that we have come to speak to you today," she said, in a voice that, for some odd reason, reminded me of Faraya. A gentleness that I wasn't too sure what to make of. "is because we wish to hold private and personal interviews with each of you regarding the attacks that have taken place."

NO!

The entire world stopped in that moment, as I felt a cold, almost demonic energy slam into me, grab hold of my insides and twist them, ripping any and all confidence that I might have garnered in those brief moments, tearing away the power that I'd gained from my crimes - that feeling that I was an all-powerful, divine goddess who should have a universe of people worshipping at my feet - and replacing them with a depressing, crippling fear. And with it came the terror that I had screamed that negative response aloud, that soon all eyes would turn to me, that Mermon Yashfa would come swooping down like a damn bat from hell and ask just what I had been thinking.

But that did not happen. Instead, the entire classroom seemed to erupt into a frenzy of whispers and utterances. "What?" was the collective word that flowed forth from the mouths of the girls around me. "Private interviews? Why?!" Those were all the questions that I wanted to ask, but was too petrified to open my mouth to let the words form. Everyone began to shout over each other, words that might have made sense for anyone who's mind could hold a coherent thought, but I, sadly, was not such a person in that moment.

"SILENCE!" Mermon Yashfa shouted, pounding her fist three times onto her desk. Several of the girls - Adia included - jolted in response - looking at Mermon Yashfa with fearful eyes. No doubt they feared her wrath, and more to the point, feared the caning that she might dole out to any one of us who she deemed to be stepping out of line. She cast an apologetic look towards the officers. "My sincerest apologies, officers. Please, continue."

Delkash smiled, waving a hand dismissively. "Not to worry, Mermon Yashfa, we had expected a response of this calibre to our announcement." She faced us again. "We understand your confusion and hear your concerns. In truth, I myself might react the same way to being given such news. You may be wondering why we are choosing to do this. The reason for it, is that we wish to gauge any details that you might have about these incidents. Even the simplest thing can mean a huge breakthrough in the case - and we feel that by speaking to Zainab and Mojdeh's classmates and friends, we will be able to garner more information that might be of help to us."

So basically... law enforcement weren't doing the incredible work that they said they were, if they needed to get the help of children in this case. Or... or did they perhaps think that one of us might have something to do with this. Were they planning to separate us from our friends in the hope that we might incriminate either ourselves or someone else? That was what they did, was it not? Isolate their chosen suspect from the crowd, lure them into a false sense of security, and then, just as they let their guard down - the vipers would strike - poised and ready with a question (or two, or three) with which to trap them.

I glanced at Adia, panic filling me at the thought of the cops interviewing her. I might have had some modicum of confidence that I would be able to charm the officers, that I would be smart enough not to breathe a foolish word in their presence, but could the same be said for her? Oh, of course, I knew that Adia was none the wiser to who was responsible for Zainab and Mojdeh's... tragedies... but she was also the one person, aside from my beloved, who had seen the darkest parts of myself. The person who had been on the receiving end of the cruelest bits of my personality. What if she, unconsciously no doubt for I knew as sure as I knew there were stars in the night sky that Adia would not betray me willingly, but what if she blabbed something incriminating without meaning to?

Tearing my gaze away from Adia, I tried to convince myself that there was nothing to worry about. This was just a routine discussion, that's all. These scumbag cops didn't think us mere children responsible for any crimes. All they wanted to do was to talk to Zainab and Mojdeh's peers, in the hopes that we might know something about them that the adults in their lives did not. That was all. Absolutely zero reason for me to be worry - this would be a simple conversation, and when I was done, these fools would be none the wiser as to who had truly killed Zainab. Or who had beaten Mojdeh.

Mermon Yashfa cleared her throat, taking her place at the front of the room again. "Officers Baset and Delkash will begin by calling each girl from the room one by one," she informed us, before turning for a moment to address the cops. "An empty classroom has been arranged for you to conduct these interviews." Baset nodded his thanks, clearly a man of little to no words, before Mermon Yashfa continued. "I do not think I need to reiterate, girls, how imperative it is that you all comply one-hundred percent with the officers today, and answer any questions put to you with honesty and integrity - as befits a student of this school."

I'm afraid I may not be able to do that, I mused. Honesty and integrity on my part would end up with myself and my brother being hauled off to prison - as murderer and accomplice respectively. So I'm afraid it's manipulation and dishonesty that they'll be experiencing from me. But oh well - that's just how things are sometimes, no?

"I know," Mermon Yashfa said, in that were far kinder than I'd ever heard the stern woman use, "that these interviews will no doubt take a toll upon you all. You may need to speak of unpleasant topics, ones that may bring up memories and feelings that can be upsetting. Because of this, I have elected to forego teaching any classes for the afternoon. I think I speak truth when I say that nobody here would be in the right frame of mind for education." Her lips quirked, was this some meager attempt at wit? "So we will take it easy today whilst the interviews are going on. You will, of course, need to remain here until your name is called, but you may chat amongst yourselves - provided the noise level is kept to a minimum so as not to disturb anyone else."

Without awaiting a response, she moved behind her desk and rifled around for a moment, before pulling out the school role-book in which all of our names were transcribed. She handed it to Baset with an almost submissive nod, and he thanked her for doing so. "I will be at my desk should any of you wish to speak with me," Mermo Yashfa informed us, but it did not take a genius to know that she wished for no such thing. "Do you require anything else, Officers, or if everything is to your liking, would you care to begin?"

The tone in her voice, the way she was so eager to defer to the officers - the male officer in particular - was reminiscent of how Tanya so often expected me to behave. Was this the type of woman that my mother wanted to turn me into? Subservient to all higher authority, and not only that, believing the lies that that authority told. Believing that the police were good, believing in the concept of a world where people like my brother and I were locked away from society. Heaven for-fucking-bid that I would dare to become this type of person!

Baset passed the role-book over to Delkash (what, is this the job for a woman? I thought with a secretive roll of my eyes) who began flicking through it. I placed my hands under the desk, crossing my fingers as they gripped tiny fistfuls of my skirt. Don't call my name first, I prayed, don't, please don't, please... I need more time to prepare.. to get my thoughts and my explanation in order. Call someone else, anyone else, just not me. Not now.

The first name was called, and I breathed an internal sigh of relief that it was not mine. Honestly, I do not know or care to remember what the girl's name was. She was seated a few desks away from mine, and her chair scraped noisily against the floor as she pushed it back and got to her feet. I watched with a cool yet avid interest as the girl approached the officers, who placed a hand upon her shoulder and escorted her out the door which clicked shut behind them. How long would she be gone for, I wondered, hand under my chin. Twenty minutes? Thirty? Forty? An hour? How I wished that I shrink myself down into a miniature size and become a fly upon the wall, eavesdropping on their conversation. Perhaps if I knew what questions these cops were planning to ask, I might be able to better prepare myself for when it would be my turn.

Alas, there was no chance of that happening and I would have to find some manner in which to distract myself from the thoughts that were circulating in my head. This didn't seem to be a problem for the other girls in the room, who instantly began to take full advantage of the fact that there would be no consequences for talking. Chairs were turned around, books returned to satchels, friends began to gather around one another. This was a rare treat for us - being able to chat in Mermon Yashfa's classroom - usually she expected complete and absolute silence while she taught, lest we face the painful and dire discipline that would have befallen the unfortunate girl caught speaking.

Now, however, she was simply seated at her desk, head buried in a book. I wasn't able to see the title from where I sat. Was it a novel that she hoped us to study in later months? Or perchance she was reading for her own personal enjoyment? I looked at her with an almost cold expression, part of me wishing, daring, that she might look up so that she would see, for a split second, the darkness lurking behind my pretty blue eyes. But... I knew that she wouldn't even have noticed - adults are, after all, mere fools who only see what they want.

The sound of a chair being moved in my direction caused me to jolt. In a brief moment of panic, I worried that Ahtrai was on her way over to make fun of me again. It was completely in her bitchy nature to do so, and especially on a day when I was stressed. She was like a honing beacon when it came to exacerbating any discomfort I may have felt on a given day.

I was relieved, then, when I discovered that it was not Ahtrai approaching me, but rather Adia. My sweet, darling friend must have noticed that I was bothered by this turn of events, for she had moved her chair right up next to my desk. "Saria?" she whispered. I turned to face her, saw the concern shining in her innocent, wide eyes. "Are, uhm... I mean... you're being very quiet..." She said that last word in hushed tones, almost as though she were nervous of what my reaction might be. "Are you... are you okay?"

It was the first fucking time since those goddamn cops had walked in that someone had asked me that question. That someone had been concerned for my well-being, rather than focusing all of their time and energy on the dead cunt and the trash with the broken bones. A surge of affection coursed through me, the urge to wrap my arms around little Adia and praise her for being such a good friend. Seeing the look of disquiet in her eyes for me, was a great comfort. If my soulmate couldn't be there for me right now, then at least I still had someone there to care for me.

"I'm fine," I replied, turning away from her to slowly roll my pencil back and forth across my desk. Yes, I may have enjoyed her concern, but she didn't need to know the reason for it. Adia's innocence could not, would not, be tainted by learning that I was the one responsible for the police being here in the first place. "I guess I'm just... wondering what the police are gonna ask me, you know?" In more ways than one.

Adia leaned closer to me, her dark eyes wide. "Me too," she exclaimed, in a voice that made it appear as though we were sharing secrets at a slumber party rather than discussing an upcoming police interrogation. "I keep wondering what they're gonna ask me, and... and if I'm gonna be able to help them at all. What questions do you think they'll ask?"

I shrugged. "Beats me. Probably some routine things about whether or not we've seen anything unusual lately. You haven't, have you?" Why was I asking this? Did I even want to know? Yes, no, maybe? All of the above? Was this some meager attempt to gauge whether or not Adia might in some way incriminate me? That she might have seen or heard something that would point those damn cops in my direction?

She shook her head, twirling a lock of dark hair around her finger. "No. I... I don't know anything that I could say that would help, y'know? I mean, I wasn't really..." She dropped her voice to a barely audible tone, glancing around the room, seeing if anyone else was listening in. They weren't, of course. Everyone else was too deeply engaged in their own conversations to worry about myself and Adia. "... I mean... Zainab... I used to talk to her sometimes but she wasn't really my friend. Not like you." Oh, how my heart soared at those words. She considered me a friend. Such sweet words were almost enough to calm my frayed nerves.

"And Modjeh," she continued, chewing on the inside of her lip, "well..." She trailed off, but no more words needed to be said. We both knew what Mojdeh was, the way she treated us both, how she had clung to Ahtrai and laughed at all of her cruel jabs. Adia bit her lip, glancing towards the door.

I took her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb along the back of it. "I know," I whispered, "I'm nervous too, Adia. And I don't know if I'll really be able to help." Or rather, I can't help. Not in any meaningful way. Not unless I want to confess to two horrific crimes that will end with my arrest and potential imprisonment or execution. "But it's going to be okay, Adia jan. All they want to do is talk to you, that's all. I mean, it's not like they're going to bite, now is it?" She cracked a small smile at that, and I returned the gesture, placing my cheek against the back of her hand and brushing my lips over it, the way that my Assef would for me. "Don't worry too much, sweetheart. Everything is going to be fine."

Was it Adia I was trying to convince with those words, or myself? Did that even matter? I kissed Adia's hand again, then reached out to gently rub her shoulder. "I promise that you have nothing to worry about," I reassured us. She nodded, and I moved away from her, returning my gaze back to my desk. I wasn't in the mood to chat, whether light-hearted discussion or otherwise. Adia was accepting of this, sliding her way back to her own desk and flipping through one of her books. She appeared to have gotten the comfort that she needed from me, and I was satisfied to know that I still had it in me to be there for the girl. Still had that goodness in my soul; that Adia, in the very least, still trusted me so implicitly.

Time passed. Girls came and went, some interviews lasting longer than others - but each taking about fifteen to thirty minutes in total. I tried to look at each of their faces, to see if there was any reaction. Any tear tracks upon their cheeks, any indication that the polite dispositions the officers had displayed whilst in the classroom was nothing more than a ruse to get us to put our guard down. But aside from a few melancholy gazes, every girl who stepped back into the room just returned to their desks and either began to read their schoolbooks or whisper amongst their friends.

I don't know how much time had truly passed when the doors opened again and Officer Baset's voice called out, "Saria Ahmed?" Would that there might be a lesser girl of that same name, and that it was not me that they were summoning. Oh, but when indeed has fortune ever favored my wishes?

"Yes, sir," I responded in what must have been a rather faraway tone, misty words through a cold and hollow mouth. I placed a hand on the back of my neck, massaging the tense muscles for a second. Okay, Saria, I told myself, this is it. The moment has come to pass. Go out there and be the sweetest, most charming little lady that they've ever seen.

Rising to my feet, I dusted off the front of my uniform, pushed my chair in, and set my shoulders straight. I could feel eyes on me as I passed through the rows of desks, could feel Ahtrai glaring at me from her place. She had not yet been called - and I needs must call myself a liar if I say that I did not fear what she might speak of when it was her turn. Yet it was not her turn, now. It was mine. And so I must do what is necessary.

When I reached the officers, Delkash placed a hand on my shoulder, as Baset held the door open for both of us. "Ladies first," he said, in a voice that reminded me, in a strange way, of Javid. I nodded in thanks, and allowed the two officers to lead me out of the room and down the corridor.

How many days had I walked these halls? Had I felt the squeaking linoleum underneath the patented leather of my shoes? And now, as I turned back to the classroom door for what I hoped would not be the final time, as I permitted the officers to lead me down the halls, both of them walking behind me, I couldn't help but to feel as though I was a prisoner, being escorted out of my cell for the final time - being lead to the gallows. Oh, how I wished so dearly that I might run from here - that I could barrell my way through the two blockades of officers that stood in my way and just leave, run until my feet blistered and my lungs burned. Run until I found my other half again and could throw myself into the safety of his arms. Of course, such thoughts could never be more than wishful fantasy.

Eventually, we reached the room wherein the interrogation - I could not think of it as an interview - would be held. Baset stepped around me and opened the door, holding it aloft for Delkash and I to step inside. "Thank you kindly, sir," I told him, lowering my gaze and dipping into a polite curtsy, one that would have made Tanya proud. And it was her voice that rang out now in my head, reminding me to be polite, deferential, and submissive to the whims of these authority figures. How ironic it was that my parent's expectations of me would be of benefit in this moment.

Baset smiled genially. "You're welcome, Saria. What a polite little girl you are." Oh, if only he knew. If only both of them truly knew! We stepped into the classroom - one that I recognized from the childish drawings plastered upon the walls of having once belonged to a class of girls much younger than I. Where were they, I offhandedly wondered, whilst their classroom was in use? Away on a field trip? Moved somewhere else? It was of no matter to me.

The officers moved to the teacher's desk. There was a small chair placed in front of said desk, which Officer Delkash gestured to. "Please, Saria jan, take a seat," she said, looking at me with an expression that I could not quite recognize in her dark eyes. Was it compassion? Understanding? Judgement? Both? How I wished that I could fake some illness - a migraine or a stomach-ache or something along those lines. That I might be able to be sent to the nurse's office and avoid this interview in its entirety. But then... I realized that by doing so, I would rouse more suspicion. How would it look to the officers if I was the only girl who didn't want to speak to them?

With my fixed smile still plastered to my face, and feeling evermore like a porcelain doll rather than a human being, I gracefully lowered myself into the chair provided for me, legs daintily crossed at the ankles. Seated there, frozen to the spot, I waited for one of these scumbags to just begin talking so that we could get this entire, awful process over and done with.

It was Officer Baset who got the show on the road - and not a moment too soon, in my humble opinion. He retrieved a small notebook from out of his pocket, flipping it open. "Now, Saria," he said, "before we begin, I want to make you aware that at any stage during this interview, I may write your responses here. This is merely to keep a record in case anything that you state might be of benefit to us later in our investigation. But I want you to know that there is absolutely no reason to feel nervous or apprehensive. Officer Delkash and I are on your side, and we wish you to be comfortable, open and honest with us."

"You may speak with us entirely in confidence," Officer Delkash added, her words making me want to roll my eyes. There was only one human being in the entire world that I could ever speak to in confidence, and he wasn't even in the same building as me. But I offered her my most demure nod and words of thanks regardless, anything to ingratiate myself as a reticent and unassuming young lady in their judging eyes. I reminded myself not to move, speak, hell, not even to blink in a way that may make them look askance at me.

"As was the case with your fellow classmates, we are going to begin by asking some simple questions about yourself." Baset unclipped the top of his pen, which stood poised and ready against his notebook for him to transcribe my words in a more permanent format. "Could you please state your full name?"

"Saria Adelah Ahmed," I responded, as a snide voice in the back of my head silently added 'the person who murdered Zainab and attacked Mojdeh. Not that you're smart enough to have figured that out, officers, now are you?'

Baset wrote that down. For some odd reason, I found myself wondering what his handwriting looked like. Maybe that was just my psyche trying to get me to think of something, anything else, than what was actually happening in this moment. My toes curled in my shoes - even stating my name for the cops felt like a great violation of my privacy. Like I had shared something that was meant for me and me alone. That may have been a weird stance to take on this matter, but it was how I truly felt.

"And how old are you, Saria?" Baset asked, pen once more at the ready.

"Twelve," I answered. I was then asked for my date of birth - for what reason I had zero clue - which I stated so that Baset could write that down in his notebook. The instant that I told them how old I was, I could feel Delkash's eyes on me, as often was the case when people learned how old I actually was. Glancing upward, I saw that her eyebrows had risen to such an inordinate degree that they'd almost disappeared beneath her hairline. As had been the case for most of this afternoon, I sent up a quiet prayer to whatever deity might exist in this world that she wouldn't comment on the obvious fact of me being way too fucking small for a twelve-year-old.

And as was the case for the entirety of my life, God did not get on the ball and answer my prayer. Delkash just had to go and run her mouth about a topic that was entirely unrelated to the situation at hand. "Twelve?" she repeated, as if she'd never heard that number before. I nodded, offering a quiet, "yes ma'am". She shook her head, as if trying to deny this, my own reality. "I... Forgive me, I don't mean to seem rude or anything, but I have to say this... you do not look like you are twelve. I would have put you as being the same age as my seven-year-old daughter if I were to have met you on the street."

It was becoming evermore difficult to keep a smile on my face when all I wanted to do now was knock this woman's teeth into her mouth and watch them fall down her throat so that she might choke on them. Weren't we meant to be here to discuss Zainab and Mojdeh? What did my height, or lack thereof, have anything to do with it? Who cares whether I look seven or eight, or four, or five or whatever young age I might appear? My height certainly wasn't an issue when I was throwing myself on top of Zainab and plunging a six inch knife into her flesh. Or when I was breaking Mojdeh's jaw with my brother's brass knuckles and stomping her head into the dirt.

I cracked a smile, knowing that to roll with the punches was my only option. "I hear that a lot, ma'am," I responded, "you're not the first person to tell me that I look younger than I am." It was my brother who had gotten the height in our family - but I didn't want to mention this, and besides, thinking of Assef only made me miss him all the more - and I was determined beyond a shadow of a doubt to not allow any emotions to get the better of me; even those related to my other half.

Oh, I wanted nothing more than to get this damn interview over and done with. For them to cease asking me arbitrary questions regarding my age or height or whatever else they had in mind to grill me about that had nothing to do with the actual crimes that had been committed. This silence was more deafening than if I had thrown back my head and screamed at the top of my lungs. I hated this, I hated it, I HATED IT! Would someone please just fucking speak already? Would someone please fill this quiet?!

"Thank you, Saria," Baset said. "Are you okay to begin the interview proper? I understand that some of the questions that we may be asking may bring up some negative and uncomfortable memories for you, but Officer Delkash and I both want you to know that you are entirely safe here. And if ever you feel that things are becoming too much, please let one of us know and we will escort you outside for some fresh air."

Have any of the other girls needed to leave during their interviews? I wanted to ask. Have any friends of Zainab or Mojdeh become overwhelmed by the thought of what happened to them and had to leave the room? Have they lost control of their emotions and broke down into sobs in the way that I want to? Were any of them as petrified as I am right now? Did they feel the visceral urge to throw up this morning's breakfast all over the floor? And what would the officers think if I did become overwhelmed by speaking to them? Would they truly be as accepting as they claimed? Or would doing so cause their conjecture to be thrown entirely out the window? Would they see me then as someone to take a closer look at?

There was no way that I could leave this room - no matter how agitated I became. "I understand," I responded, "thank you, sir. I'm ready to begin, if you are, of course." I would defer entirely to the officers on all things - using those lessons in subservience that Tanya had imparted upon me and hoping that they would be of good use. How funny it was that now I had something to thank my mother for. Seems all of her constant lectures on being the perfect little lady would now come in handy. She'd be proud of me, though of course not if she were aware of the true reason for why I had to behave in such a manner.

It was Officer Delkash who took the initiative to begin the more uncomfortable parts of the interrogation. "We'll speak of Zainab Niazai first, Saria," she said. God, I wished that I never had to hear that fucking name again. I wanted it to be dead and buried like its owner. I placed my hands on my lap, fingers intertwined together, waiting for the next question to come and hoping that it would not be one that put me on the spot. "We understand that Zainab was in the same school class as you, Saria," Delkash glanced to Baset, who had his pencil pressed eagerly against the top of his notepad - once more ready to scribble down everything that I would come to say. "Did you know her personally? Would you have considered yourself to be a friend of hers?"

Those were the same questions that Tanya had asked me when the news first came upon the radio when Zainab had gone missing, and when her body was found. It truly shows how little my mother knew of me, that she might think that the girl who had been nothing more than a thug and a bully who had made my very life and every fucking day in school to be a living hell until I had made wormfood of her was any sort of person that I could have been friends with. But then again, neither Tanya nor Mahmood had ever shown a modicum of compassion towards me that might have made me even consider opening up to them about any problems that I might have had. Who knows, maybe if they had been better parents, this issue could have been dealt with in a more appropriate and humane way, and I would not be sitting here with two police officers, who were desperate to find answers that only three people in the world could truly give them - two of whom would not breathe a word and the third who couldn't because she was now a rotting corpse in the ground.

"I didn't know her personally," I stated. Baset wrote that down. Not even giving him a chance to lift pen from paper, I continued. "You're right in saying that we were in the same class, yes, but..." Here I had to pause. Every word from my lips had to be perfectly curated; handpicked just so in order to prevent anything I said being taken and used against me. Would that I could ask for a lawyer, someone to tell me exactly what I could say or not say. But then again, that would have looked suspicious, now wouldn't it? What twelve-year-old little girl needs a lawyer when answering questions about offenses she supposedly has nothing to do with?

"You wouldn't have considered yourself to be a friend of hers, Saria jan?" Delkash asked. The saccharine use of the term of endearment 'jan' and the way that she was cooing over me like some toddler would ordinarily have made me want to throttle the cunt, but I realized that I might have been able to use this to my own advantage. So the woman viewed me on par with her young daughter, did she? That was fine. Then I would lean into that role - and in doing so I might be able to gain some sympathy points from her. Her colleague might have been too strict and gruff to showcase any sort of understanding towards me, but if I could get Delkash to do so, then all the better for me.

I shook my head. "No, ma'am," I said. I looked up at Baset. "No, sir. I, of course, passed Zainab in the corridors from time to time and would have interacted with her on a few occasions during classroom activities." Here, I recalled one afternoon where Mermon Yashfa had paired Zainab and I up for some event that I care no longer to remember now what it was. The bitch had spent the entire time lazing back on her chair as if it were a throne and forcing me to complete the work for her, like she were the damn Queen of Afghanistan and I her meager servant. "And we exchanged pleasantries back and forth if ever the time for such arose, but... I wouldn't have played with her during recess or spent any time with her outside of school. So no, I personally would not have considered her to be a friend of mine."

My stomach churned as I spoke those words, the hands that had gripped my insides when I'd first learned that the police would be calling now tearing what I pictured to be their long, claw-like nails into the depths of my intestines. Every word out of my mouth was one that I found myself to be second guessing. What if, by stating that I wasn't friends with Zainab, the police looked at me with mistrust? What if they viewed me now as some loner that didn't have any friends? It was always those types of kids that one had to watch out for when it came to events like this, and it terrified me beyond all reasonable doubt to think that I might have ingrained myself as to being one of those kids.

But I rationalized that this would not be the case. I had only stated that I wasn't friends with Zainab - an honest truth. It wasn't as though I'd proclaimed myself to be the lonely, outcast, bullied girl that I actually was. No, all I'd done was mention how the dead girl and I weren't the best of buddies - that's it. Nothing untoward there. Nothing that could make me out to be of any real importance in a murder investigation. Zainab had her friends, and I had mine. We just didn't run in the same social circles; and there was nothing that could be done about that. No need to act as if the words meant anything more than the surface level statement that I intended them to be.

"Hm." Baset mused, his tongue darting out of his mouth for a split second to run along the bottom of his lips. He looked at me for a moment - his eyes taking in my pretty blonde pigtails. I wondered what he made of my appearance; blonde, blue-eyed, so vastly different from the other girls here. Aryan, my brother had called our appearance once, and he said it with reverence, as though it were a good thing. It didn't much feel like a good thing now, to stick out like a sore thumb. But there was nothing that could be done about that, and if either of the cops had a qualm about my appearance, they were, in the very least, professional enough not to speak about it.

Baset flipped to a new page in his notebook. Here was where we got down to the nitty-gritty of the situation. His expression was completely somber, not even the quirking of his lips to be seen as he spoke again, this time to ask: "I presume, and hopefully correctly so, Saria, that you are fully aware of the tragic events that unfolded for your classmate Zainab a few months ago?"

More than you'll ever know, I thought. The memory warmed me - chasing Zainab over the hills, following her into that abandoned house, hearing her beg for mercy as I dangled the knife in front of her. Throwing myself onto her. The feeling of blade meeting flesh. That spark in her eyes dying as she did. The look of pride on Assef's face as he stood there and watched. Feeling so powerful, so invincible. So godlike. A feeling that I was now struggling so goddamn desperately to hold onto.

"Yes, sir," I responded, keeping my gaze lowered as I did so. Part of this was, of course, to amp up the deferential aspect of the facade that I was showcasing right now, and the other part honestly feared that if I looked him in the eye, something in my expression would give the game away. Cops were, after all, trained to spot little nuances in a person's behaviour to show them if that person was lying. I could only hope that my own manipulation tactics, which I had been honing since even my early toddlerhood, would be enough to serve me now.

"And how did you hear of this, Saria?" Delkash asked. What the fuck did that matter? Was this bitch actually participating in the interview or was she just trying to engage in conversation? What was this... good cop, bad cop?

I kept my eyes downcast. "On... on the radio, ma'am." I hesitated, then decided that speaking a few words of truth would do no genuine harm in the long run. A lie is more believable when garnished with the truth, after all. "Actually... it was my mother who first spoke to me of it. We had heard before that Zainab was missing and... and I know that Mama had been really worried because of it." Tilting my head upwards now, I looked Delkash right in the eye - portraying the innocent, pathetic waif that would melt the heartstrings of a mother like herself. Let her see me, this child of similar height and build to her own daughter, let her see that her own child might have been the victim of the same murder that had taken Zainab's life. "Mama and I were spending a quiet afternoon at home together while my brother and father were out when... when..."

Delkash's hands twitched, as if she were going to reach for me but thought better of it. I continued speaking, wanting to fill the quiet, lest they do so with more awkward questions. "I was outside in my home's back-yard when Mama called me in. Said she had something important to discuss with me. It was at this time that she played the radio announcement again, and I learned that... that Zainab... that someone..." I coughed, a hand up over my mouth as I did so. Wiping my chin with the back of my hand, I lowered my gaze once more. "Mama explained it to me by saying that a bad person had hurt Zainab really badly and that she... and that... that nobody... that now..."

Tears sprang unbidden to my eyes, not out of any compassion for Zainab, but because of the anxiety that this entire situation was causing for me. I tilted my head back in an attempt to blink them down inside myself again. But to no avail. Delkash must have noticed that I was becoming upset, for she reached towards a box of tissues situated upon the teacher's desk - which I had not paid heed to before now - and held them out towards me. I took one, expressed my gratitude, and used it to wipe my eyes. "Thank you," I whispered again. "I...I apologize for... becoming upset."

"It's okay, Saria jan," Delkash cooed. "It is a very upsetting topic, and nobody blames you for reacting this way. Officer Baset and myself are both parents, too, to girls of our own, and we were both very sad scared to learn of what happened to Zainab. As I'm sure your own family were, yes?" I didn't answer. I didn't think there was any need to wax poetical with the cops about how concerned my parents might or might not have been regarding Zainab's death.

Besides, it seemed that we had moved, temporarily, from the topic of Zainab and were now moving over to the bitch in hospital Room 207. "And what of Mojdeh Tarin, Saria?" Baset asked. "Would you have considered yourself to be a friend of hers?"

I had to pause. Had to give myself a second to think. If I stated that Mojdeh wasn't my friend, then that might cause more suspicion. But if I lied and said we were best friends, then maybe someone else would contradict this during their own interviews. And therefore, once again it was best for me to garnish the falsehood that would spill from my lips with a small modicum of truth. "We sometimes talk to each other and play together in the schoolyard during recess." By this, as I'm sure you're aware, I was referring to all those afternoons where Mojdeh had approached Adia and I, just minding our own business and had either shoved one of us, or made some snide comment regarding our appearance, or how we spoke, or... or anything else that they might have found to tease us about. Mojdeh had always been the nastiest, the cruelest of Ahtrai's Posse of Dipshits. Always so eager to please her malevolent mistress.

"And are you aware of what happened to her?" Baset asked. "I know that it might seem as though this is an obvious question for us to ask, but we simply must have all the facts, and we cannot do so until we are certain that you have much the same."

"Of course, sir," I said, "and yes, I am aware of what happened to her. Again, it was on the radio that I heard it. And Mermon Yashfa spoke to us about it in school. We held a silent prayer for Mojdeh, in the hopes that she gets better soon." To this day, I don't know what madness overcame me in this moment as I then asked, "I... I heard that she's very poorly in hospital. Has she woken up yet, do you know? Forgive me, I only ask because it worries me so to think of her being in such pain and I-I wanted to know-"

Baset looked sympathetically at me. "She is awake, Saria, and seems to be healing well, of that you can be assured. Officer Delkash and I, as well as several of our colleagues, have been to speak with her. Though she seems not to remember what happened to her, nor can she give us the names of anyone responsible. This is why we have decided to host these interviews with yourself and your classmates. If Mojdeh jan does not remember, then we hope that one of her school chums might have some information that could benefit our investigation."

Mojdeh's screams reached fever pitch when my brother stepped on her wrists, I thought. And it only took a few punches from me before her eye swelled shut. Have you ever punched someone in the eye, Officer Baset? Ever looked at a red, swollen, bruised face and known that you were responsible for it? Ever heard a person beg you to stop, and gotten so annoyed with their pleading that you hit them again and again until their jaw dislocated from their face? Would that information be of benefit to you? Hmm? Well, you pathetic, worthless rat, it's too bad that you'll never get to hear it from me.

"Saria," Officer Delkash said, in a tone that really meant business. "This next question that I will be asking you is a very serious one." Ah, so the previous questions had been nothing more than that of jest? I reminded myself again not to roll my eyes. "And it is of the utmost importance that not only do you answer honestly, and be the brave young lady that we know you have been, but that you take all the time necessary to give any and all information that you think may be of benefit. I mean it. Even something that you might not think is beneficial can help us immensely. Now... do you know, or have you seen anything or anyone suspicious lately? Anything that you might not have taken much note of at the time, and that thinking back on it, you think that it might be unusual?"

The silence that fell over the room now was not one of discomfort or anxiety on my behalf, as had been the case before, but rather one of pensive thinking. This was the make or break question. Depending on the words that next came from my mouth, I might persuade law enforcement to look in an entirely different direction from me. Or there may be more questioning - and that could lead them to suspect me. Fucking hell, how many times had I thought those words. Suspicion, judgement, questioning, all of it. I felt myself sweating, running from my pores like tears underneath my dress.

What could I say? What information might I be able to give that would guide the officers in the direction opposite to me? I brought my index finger up to my mouth, curling it downwards and placing it between my teeth, biting down on my knuckles. Closing my eyes, I pictured the streets of Kabul, saw the streets swimming before my inner eye. The market place. The market-sellers at their various stands, everything there for a potential buyer to look at. The men, women and children bustling to and fro. I bit my knuckle again, feeling the eyes of the officers boring into me. I knew that they were just waiting for me to speak, to give them some bit of information that might help their investigation.

But it didn't seem as though there was anything. I could hardly make it known that I was aware of the abandoned house close to where Zainab had died, or give them a detailed description of the undergrowth wherein Mojdeh had been attacked. Yet I didn't want to give them absolutely nothing to go on. This interview wasn't just about keeping suspicion from me, it was also about directing said suspicion onto someone, anyone, else. And I thought this, a face flashed before my mind - that of a homeless man that I had seen from time to time on the streets of Wazir-Akbhar-Khan.

Opening my eyes again, I looked into the faces of the officers. Both had a patient look upon their countenances - though it was pretty obvious that they wanted me to just get on with it and speak. Really, I couldn't blame them for feeling this way. "Uhm..." I began, removing my finger from out of my mouth and wiping it against the hem of my uniform's skirt. "Come to think of it, Officers, there is... there is something that.. Someone who..." I shook my head, paused. "I don't know if it would be of benefit to you but..."

"Whatever you have to say, Saria, please do so." Delkash stepped around the desk and knelt down beside me. She placed a hand upon my shoulder, gently rubbing her thumb against it. "As we have stated before, there is nothing to worry about here. Nobody is going to harm you, in any way, shape or form, and if you have anything that might enlighten us as to being able to catch the person who might be responsible for the awful things that happened to your classmates. You are perfectly, totally and completely safe here, sweetheart."

As safe as Zainab and Mojdeh were around me? I questioned internally. I looked at Delkash with innocent, pretty blue eyes. "I... Well..."

"Please, dear, go ahead. It's quite alright."

She turned to her colleague, who stood poised and ready once more to write down anything I had to say. "There's a homeless man that I see sometimes on the streets. I don't know his name or anything about him. But... but he's... I can't quite express what it makes me feel when I see him around. And, Officers, I know that it might appear that I am judging this person, and I do not mean to, truly but..."

Baset scribbled my words once more. "Of course, Saria, we would never think negatively of you. You have shown yourself to be a sweet, charming and delightful young lady. Officer Delkash and I would never consider you to be a judgemental individual. Now, this man that you see on the street, am I to believe that he makes you feel uncomfortable?"

I nodded, looked at him, then turned to Officer Delkash, still kneeling beside me, hand still placed upon my shoulder. "Yes, sir. It... Sometimes when my big brother and I are out walking the streets, I'd feel, uhm, this is gonna sound weird, but... it's like there would be eyes on me, watching my every move. And... and when I turned around, there he'd be. Just watching. Staring at me. Staring straight through me." This was not a lie - at least, not entirely. The man of whom I spoke was known to be quite the creep. He was harmless, no doubt, but I was acutely aware that I was not the only person he made uncomfortable. "And when I heard about Zainab... and then about Mojdeh... I couldn't help but to wonder... was it only due to my brother being with me that I had been kept safe?"

More tears filled my eyes, though this time I did not wipe them away, instead permitting them to fall, looking directly into the eyes of gullible Officer Delkash as I did so. She cooed in empathy, continuing to rub my shoulder. "F... Forgive me," I muttered, bringing up a hand to wipe away the steadily flowing river of tears. "Maybe I'm just being overly sensitive. I just can't deny how uncomfortable this man makes me feel. How my stomach clenches whenever I see him."

"No, no, Saria, this is good. This is very good information." Baset transcribed the words down onto his little notebook. "Anyone who you might think of as suspicious should be looked into. And you should feel comfortable in speaking with us about that - and we are indeed proud that you have. Now, permit me please to ask, would it be permissible for you to give a description of this man? Anything that you can remember about him? No matter what it is, even the tiniest detail could help us."

Once more did I wrack my brain for any and all description that I could think up of this man. I placed a finger against my chin, tapping once, twice, three times. "Uh, let me see... Let me think... He's tall..." Well, anybody over four foot is tall for me. "Maybe around, if I had to put an estimate upon it, I would hazard that he is around 5'9 or 6,0." Baset wrote this down. "He's... uhm... maybe forty-five years old. Dark hair, dark eyes, a kind of pointed nose. He's always wearing a faded white t-shirt and an old pair of jeans with holes in the knees. And he has a mole on his cheek, just below his left eye. Uh... that's probably all the description that I could give to you about him. I'm... I'm sorry that it's not more. Like I said, he makes me feel uneasy whenever I see him so..."

The officers shared a look with one another as Baset wrote down this laundry list of descriptive qualities that I was providing about this man. There was something in that look - something that I could not put my finger on. Was it maybe recognition? And if that, so did that mean this man was already known to him? Had I put a suspect back on their radar? In honesty, the man who I was describing actually seemed to be nothing more than a down-on-his-luck individual who would not have harmed a fly. A gentle soul who would not have even dreamed to put his hands on anybody, let alone a child. He was creepy but harmless. But who cares? If it meant keeping myself and Assef out of trouble, then I throw anyone under the bus. It was myself and my brother versus the world, and I make no apologies to say that the world and all of its inhabitants will always come second.

"Thank you, Saria," Officer Delkash said. She rubbed my shoulder again, for the final time, before getting to her feet once more and returning to the side of her partner. "This information that you have given to us will be greatly beneficial to us in the long run. I think that you might have helped us to get on the right track when it comes to achieving justice for Zainab and Mojdeh." Well, hopefully it would end with someone in prison, at the very least. She offered another, almost motherly, smile in my direction. "I just know that Zainab is thankful to you for helping her, and that your co-operation will help her soul to rest a little easier."

I wanted to throw back my head and laugh like a madwoman at those words. Laugh until tears streamed down my face and I could scarcely breathe. Silly old bitch, it's because of me that Zainab's soul is resting anywhere in the damn first place. "I think that we can call an end to this interview," said Officer Baset, getting to his feet and returning the notebook to his pocket. "And allow me to echo Officer Delkash's statements of gratitude for your help, Saria jan. You truly have been a great asset to us."

My legs felt like jelly as I rose from my chair, lowering my head and once more offering a polite curtsy to the two law enforcement agents stood before me. "Thank you for your time, Officers."

"We will walk you back to your classroom, Saria," Baset said, making his way towards the door which he once more held open for us. "It was very nice to meet you. A very charming young lady who I'm sure has a bright future ahead of her."

I thanked him. And then... overcome with a strange urge, I asked, "Uhm... do you... do you think that you will be visiting with Mojdeh again anytime soon?"

Delkash confirmed that yes, they might be, and I turned to give her my biggest puppy-dog eyes and most dazzling smile. "If it's not too much trouble, do you think you could pass on a message to her from me? I don't think I'll be able to visit her myself and I want to... I want to tell her that I'm thinking of her and I hope she gets well soon."

"Oh, you little dear!" Delkash exclaimed, and for a horrifying moment, I feared that she might step forward and hug me. "Why, of course we will pass your message to Mojdeh jan. Knowing that someone cares for her and is wishing her the best will no doubt help her well-being immensely."

No more words were spoken between the officers and myself as they lead me back to the classroom. One need not be a genius to recognize that I had not asked for that kind message to be passed on to Mojdeh out of any sense of care for the girl - but rather as a reminder that I was always, always one step ahead of her. To let her know that I had even managed to charm the very law enforcement officers who were meant to be working on her case.

Because I had managed to charm them, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt. Knew as I returned to my seat and the next girl took her leave of us, that they would be taking an in-depth look into this homeless man that I had told them about. But therein lay another issue - even if the man was investigated, there was nothing, no concrete evidence, to tie him to the murder. The knife that had been used to stab Zainab was hidden under that piece of loose flooring under my bed.

Well, not for long. I had been thinking for some time of getting rid of that blade, but was unaware of how I could do so. Now, however, I had the perfect reason. I turned my head towards the window, staring out into the schoolyard and the streets that lay beyond.

Somewhere, in the alleyways of Kabul, my future scapegoat was walking the streets, unaware that his life was about to change - for the worse.


Thank you all for reading! In the next chapter, we follow on from this one as Saria returns home from school and she, along with Assef, put a plan into motion to blame the homeless man for her crimes. But can she accurately plant the evidence as she wishes to? Look for that, coming soon! I send my love to you all and as always, please comment, rate and subscribe if you liked what you read!