LIGHT FROM THE DESERT✓

||CHAPTER 6||

||SALIMA||

Being tied to a rope is not new to me. I have been here, hundreds of time. At the mercy of this cruel beast of a father. Many a time I would feel vulnerable, but today, I don't feel it so much. I grow every day. I master courage every day. To add to that, Hussein has been teaching me the basics of surviving a 'war'. One, be still, do not provoke. If provoked don't take the bait. Practice patience. Two, learn to observe. Be smart. With these, you can win yourself a ticket away from torture or impending wars as he calls them.

My mom's mouth is gagged. Father says that she is a daredevil who likes bickering and intruding on matters that do not concern her. He does not want her 'noise' to interfere with his concentration while he is busy searching for Zawadi's number on her phone. He tortured us but we did not give him any clues of our knowledge on Zawadi's whereabouts.

So, when our fruitless selves drowned in excruciating pain, he took my mom's phone and started dialling every single number like a psychopath. When he dials, he waits for the owner to say hello, when the voice doesn't match with Zawadi's, he hangs up and calls the next. He is sitting on the old worn-out couch, legs on the table and a beer in his hand which he swirls and takes a sip now and then.

"Why do you need all these women on your phone book, Khadija Fatima?" he asks mockingly. My mother shoots him a glare as she cannot speak. "Let's move on to Mama Khuram," he says and my heart pounds faster.

My mom's eyes widen in shock. She has started squirming on her chair. He presses on the dial button and places the phone to his ear. I pray hard the owner does not answer because if she does it will mean hell for us. Mom saved Za's new number as Mama Khuram, so that if something like this ever happened my father would just think she is a random woman from the neighbourhood.

Little did we know that he would go to an extent of dialling number after the other. I pray harder as my heart rams wildly in my ribcage. The pain is raising again as fear for my sister balances on the lids of my eyes in form of tears. We have done so much to keep her hidden but the devil never got tired of searching for her. He never gave up.

The phone rings, no one answers. I tell myself he will not try again but he redials the number. No answer. A third time, no answer. He dials a fourth time like a persistent mole, it's answered. Tears slip down my cheeks as mom breaks down into a hard sob. It pains me to see her so vulnerable in the hands of a man she calls her husband. Its a pity.

"My darling Zawadi, how sweet of you to keep me waiting?" he says. "You thought you ran away from me for good? Poor you! You can never run away from me! Now, without wasting much of my time, shall we get down to business?" he continues with a feral tone.

My mom and I watch him keenly. Zawadi says something on the other side which I am dead curious to know.

"Oh, you think you can threaten me, young woman? Let me repeat myself, you can never run away from me! No need to make me repeat that cause if you do, that will mean that I'll have to drive Salima's geometry pencil right through her tiny right hand." His voice is full of promise and it scares me to death.

He has tortured us before but none of the torture included maiming. But with the current situation, I am more than sure he will not hesitate to do it even if it is to prove a point. He is enjoying it so much that he puts the phone on speaker.

"You wouldn't do that?" Za pleads in fear.

"Oh, I would. In fact, as we are talking, she is squirming on her chair, wriggling her hands painfully to get rid of the ropes. Does that sound familiar?" he asks mockingly.