Wrong Suffered At Hands (Chapter Six)

6.

 

The sky was a gentle hue of blue with pillows of cumulus clouds that formed patches on the sky. The melody of birds tweeting rang into her hearing, mingling with the ripples of the flowing river in an ever-so-pleasant combination. She could sense the icy air caressing over her face like a golden wind. She seemed to be on seventh heaven; her heart was swelling up with sheer intensity of grace, fulfillment, and ecstasy as her smile reached miles. Her skin was tickled by the grass beneath her heels, and she was unconcerned about her hair grazing her face. Instead, she was all over heels in love.

 

But then she experienced a twinge in her arm, as if getting pricked by a needle, in a precise spot on her arm. Her face was damped with sweat, and her feet felt like they were drenched in muck. She was stiff as a brick, her body cumbersome with her weight, and the constant pressure of her chest and on her heart made it much harder for her to breathe properly.

She heard her name; someone was addressing her by her name. The thick, solemn voice pierced her ears like a rainstorm after a bright day. Her vision adjusted to the brightness that cut through her irises, and she flinched. Her eyesight was weak and hazy, like if she was seeing through fish lenses.

She blinked twice, taking in the hazy figure before her

"Are you awake?"  She hears him.

 

"Look at me, how are you feeling?"

 

“Afiyah?”

 

The ache surged through every curve of her body the instant she rotated her neck.

"Are you in any pain? Do you mind if I give you another analgesic?"

Sameer's face was as lifeless as nightfall when she glanced at him, and her heart sprang with redress.

Then she looked down at her drip-injected arm, the stiffness on one side of her body indicating that she had been struck hard in the muscles and tendons.

"You collapsed." As he adjusts the tapes on the syringe that has punctured her vein, he says, "It's been three hours, and we've been worried about you. Do you recall anything?"

With a shake of her head, she expressed her dissatisfaction with the scenario.

"According to your headmaster, you were seriously hurt when you fell on a glass-topped table. Take a look at the cuts." He indicated the bruises on her left arm with his pointer.

She couldn't look down, so she shifted her gaze to the side, attempting to deliberately ignore him.

“What had happened, Afiyah? Say something, we need to know."

She chose not to answer at all.

 

For a week and then, she wasn't fatally wounded to actually neglect school, yet she was still urged to do so. Her father claims that her school's headmaster advised her to stay home for a week or until the crisis subsided. Her father claimed that she had been assaulted by a student, as he had been informed by the instructors, but she had always resisted.

It wasn’t him.

Her father became enraged when she repeated the statement like a mantra, and he locked her up in her room to discourage her from requesting to go to school nearly every day.

She'd shed tears in the darkness of her room until her throat tightened as if being choked by a shed of ropes, and until her condition worsened, until she went to sleep on the blazing hot rug. She was furious to learn that Hassan had been named as the culprit in the incident; he wasn't responsible; he was blameless, and he had rushed to rescue her. She wanted to blurt at the top of her lungs, "It's not Hassan's fault!"

 

When Sameer told Afiyah that the headmaster had asked her to come to school, she didn't think it wise before nearly tripping over her face several times whilst getting ready for school. However, she was knocked off her feet when she learned of the school's plight;

“Hassan had been kicked out of school on the same day; he was identified as your victim. Everybody stated that he actually compelled you to perform immoral actions and abused you."

She listened intently to Bushra's utterance, with a rock on her chest. Her existence had come crashing down once more. 

Hassan was gone.

He was convicted of the assault.

He shouldn't have to bear the brunt of the consequences.

She wished to have heeded the advice of her companions.

She regarded herself as if she were a jet-black stone adrift in a sea of blue sparkling ocean. Hassan had painted her serendipities with dazzling hues, and now she was pouring with red of her blood.

 

“We pay attention to you, Afiyah, Reveal the truth, and unseal the truth to the school.” The headmaster demanded.

Her gaze was drawn to the miniature map printed on the white mug, which was perched atop the table. Her pulse was audible in her ear.

"Afiyah, I'm speaking to you.  Don't squander our time..."

"It wasn't him, it was never him," she eventually admitted.

Each time she formed a syllable, she gulped the lump in her throat, making her voice small and feeble.

"And what about the scenario we have witnessed?" 

"Whose office was it?" she inquired, her dark eyes peering through the light ones. "It wouldn't have occurred if you had kept a close eye on Mr. Farooq instead of monitoring us every millisecond." she said, her voice now louder and harsh.

"Today, we pay for a crime we didn't even commit." she breathed unsteadily, "Keep a keen eye on Mr. Farooq, and you might be able to prevent losing students on a weekly basis."

"You expelled an innocent," she said as she rose up, "but be cautious of the predator lurking beyond your school's fragile fences; he might devour every kid here."

 

Afiyah was pretty shocked and perplexed as well. How attentively the headmaster had listened to what she had to say. She felt absolutely delighted of herself for belatedly speaking up, but deep down, she was also apprehensive.

Without Hassan, school appeared vacant, as if it were attempting to survive without coverings.

 

 

 

 

 

As she perched on the ledge of the stone-made wall on the top floor of her house, Afiyah appeared like a sculpture. She could witness the neighborhood's streetlights as teeny as stars in the galaxy. The gloom was dissipating as the attention-arresting lights that extended down the alleyways indicated that the housekeepers were wide awake. It has been a month and a quarter since she quit school; nevertheless, when her father spoke with Mr. Farooq, she was forced to quit school.

Sameer had explained to her why their father had taken such a punitive decision to have her withdraw her studies.

"You teacher claimed it was your fault because of how attractive you appear." he tried to explain, "You shouldn't be out in general populace with such an alluring face, he said it. That crappy faced man had suggested that you had drawn him to yourself, that you should be put down for attracting men to yourself." he had spat.

"You should've been silent." he continued, "Since we don't have a mother to testify on our behalf and papa is the only parent with a fine amount of obligations as a burden on his chest."

Where Afiyah sighed audibly after blubbering, she could merely hear Sameer, “A motherless individual is never allowed to communicate for her dignity, on behalf of herself. They're supposed to be kept silent and endure. Remember that only natal mothers look after their children wholeheartedly, and we don't have one. As a result, get used to the worst, learn to tolerate."

She, indeed, was without a mother, and she got close to experiencing what it's really like to be lacking a mother, as if devoid of a sanctuary. Her mental health had also been affected by the events; she suffered from insomnia and had more anxiety episodes. She was pondering about how to elucidate herself to those who won't pay heed to her.

How do you convince folks that you weren't wrong?

She would fall into slumber deciding about it and wake up with the slogan buried into her brain as if nail being pierced into her skull.

 

The clanging of dinnerware was hardly discernible, and her intellect was clouded with memories, causing her vision to grow blur and furious tears to well up in the corners of her eyes. Her entire head felt like it was plunged into blazing fire from all the sobbing for the past two months.

"Eshaal and Bushra have come to pay you a visit."

The spoon managed to slip out of her grasp when she was startled by her father. "I'll be there," she winced as she scooped up the spoon from the floor.

The response was concise and unambiguous. She shook her soaked hands into the air in order to get rid of the droplets, the water splashing all over her clothes, but she didn't seem to care.

She could only sigh wearily as she spotted her companions seated in the garden chair beneath the porch light. Because of all the sobbing, her eyes were swollen, and her nose was red from all the scraping and wiping.

"What have you done to yourself?" Bushra inquired, she appeared anxious.

"The unintended consequences of falling in love at the wrong time." She chortled, but her intonation was not amusing. 

"Stop complaining and start getting ready.” Eshaal said, her hand extending up to Afiyah's, "Hassan is waiting for you in the gazebo.”

"Stop messing with my thoughts, it's enough," she said, snapping her hand from hers.

"He's there, and he's waiting for you. One last time, at least meet him.”

Her intellect said no where her heart cried yes, and Afiyah's heart sank. Deep down, she presumed that after two months of no show up, Hassan was eventually there.

Afiyah had slipped away with her friends when she discovered her father asleep in bed. In the pale moonlight, all by herself, she agreed to visit Hassan.

Her legs trembled, like a fish pulled out from the water, her steps wavering. Hassan would be waiting for her there, with a sequin smile on his face; he'd be waiting for her. Both the sweethearts spotted each other at once. Her heart swelled with glee as her face lit up with a beaming smile, her eyes welled up with excitement and enthusiasm. When he extended his arms for her, she dashed up to him.

They crashed in each other’s embrace; just way rapid cars collide with one another at high speeds. When she inhaled the comforting aroma of his body, the distinctive shape of his body, the curves and edges she had yearned to touch, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“My love.” He whirred, and the sensation was soothing to her ears. She had longed to hear him, call her name.

And she broke down into tears, hiccupping and wailing. Due to the hiccups, her breath was caught in her chest, unable to reach her lungs. She was well aware that her tears had stained his tee shirt.

"My love, Afiyah. Please, don't cry”, he cupped her face, staring through her irises, attempting to drive down her soul, "My daffodil, my nirvana." He snipped the threads of her hair off her face that had become trapped there owing to tears and sweat.

"Naive me assumed you'd abandoned me since you were gone." It was arduous for her to form a whole statement without being interrupted by the hiccups.

"I'll never be able to let you go; you're my entire universe, my dear one."

“Why did you do that?” she had asked, holding his wrists and intertwining his fingers into hers, “Why did you hurt yourself for me, my love. Can you tell me why you did it for me?"

"I couldn't cope with having him close to you any longer. I couldn’t bear anyone setting their hands on you if that person isn't really me. Only I have the authority to touch you."

Their foreheads rested together, brow to bow they stood. Afiyah chewed her bottom lip, struggling to prevent herself from leaning in; she drew Hassan to herself. Their lips melded into a precise kiss, the contact kindling a flame of need and delight in their pits. When Hassan cupped her jaw for a greater access to her mouth, she had allowed him to creep his hands over the places he desired. Hassan's touches were as delicate as being caressed by a feather, in contrast to the dirty hands that touched her once.

She had clung to his shirt, collar, and shoulders in an attempt to force him even deeper into her. When they came to a halt, they were out of breath. Their minds were a haze as they breathed profoundly, their hearts in their throats.

“I love you.” He confessed once more.

Afiyah mustered up the confidence she had been stifling for so long. “I love you, Hassan.”

After hearing her, Hassan raised his head. "Say it once again."

“I love you, Hassan.”

He embraced her again, occasionally kissing the crown of her head.

“I’m leaving.”

"Where to?" her heart fell miles down the river.

She wished to say, not again.

"We're moving; it's the only solution we have after what had occurred.  My mother can't seem to handle a word against me anymore"

“Did you tell her the truth?”

"I didn't say anything since she wouldn't listen." he declined. “I was absent for two months because I wasn't allowed to depart my house, and when I was finally able to see my friends here, I came to you. My friends are calling me. We have a get together before I leave." Hassan explained as he was interrupted three to four times by his cell phone

"Please don't leave me, I beseech you!" Her lungs were bleeding as she sobbed.

“I’ll come back to you, I promise. Will you be patient while I'm away? Will you wait for me even if it takes decades?"

She nodded frequently. Nevertheless, she didn't have any notions in her mind.

"Call me, send me a message whenever you want." he said as he handed her a scrap of paper. "Keep in touch with me."

"I don't have a phone of my own." she said, looking down at the jumbled paper, peering at the phone number.

"Please contact me as soon as you acquire one." His eyes pleaded, appealing for Afiyah's unwavering belief.

“Let me go, and I’ll revert home to you. Right here, we shall meet again.”

Afiyah buried her face in her palms as she wept again, furiously shaking her head.

"I'm all yours, my darling, and I'll always be yours."

Their hearts throbbing in tandem was all Afiyah could observe before Hassan kissed her temple and walked away without taking a good look back at her.

 

 

 

The night she witnessed a piece of pearl fall off from the bracelet Hassan gave her, she was grief stricken.