Get Up Again

-four-

Two weeks after the banquet, classes are at full swing and I just got a box of Aero chocolate bars from England. I was running around the building, giving people bars of this bubble wrap for your mouth, and adding sarcastic remarks for something at the side.

It's not like me to not be sarcastic. 

I was running to Mr. Steve's office when I bumped into Hiro. We haven't talked since the banquet, even though he's in all of my classes. But he chooses to be in the back, while I have to be in the front. 

Sometimes I wish I could get up and slip into that empty seat next to him and talk to him forever. 

"Hey Shikadai," I took a step back. "How are you?"

"Meh, the homework load is something I'm trying to get used to," He shrugged. "But otherwise, I'm doing okay."

"That's good to hear." I was trying not to gawk at how hot he looked. Because white leather and black shirts look amazing on him. I tossed him a Aero bar. 

He caught it and rolled his eyes. "You're being the real Mrs. Chocolate? Or do you want to open a candy shop or are too broke to do it?"

I shrugged. "I felt like being nice today." I walked past him, needing to limit the contact between us. "See you around." 

I was about to turn the corner when I heard him scream, "What is it?!". 

"Bubble wrap made of chocolate!" I replied back, and smiled as I headed for the elevator. 

---

"Assalamualikum Ma." I walked into her room, and she turned and smiled at me. Her room was right between my room that I shared with Taif, and Hiro's room, where he stays all by himself. I wonder how he does it. "I have something for you." 

"Walakususalam Neya." Her voice was rough, but somehow melodic. It has been that way since my father almost choked her to death. 

That was the same time he cut my left cheek, leaving three very noticeable scars. I shivered at the thought of that. 

"I ordered these." I gave her the rest of the bag, because I saved some at our room. She looked into the bag and hugged me. 

"You're the most thoughtful one." She said in Bengali. "You always were, and I hope that you always will be."

"Ameen." I hugged her back. "Can I stay the night here today?"

She nodded. "Can you pray?"

My cheeks flared. "No." I answered. I didn't like talking about my lady problems, to anyone, not just my mom. 

She laughed and pulled me to her room. A small cot, which was stuffed into the corner of the bedroom, welcomed me to a sleep that I very much needed. 

"You can sleep." She said in her accented English. "And I will pray." 

"Ask Allah to remove my period as quickly as possible please." I requested her. "I hate my period." 

"We all do." She told me and unpinned my hijab, like she used when I first started wearing it. She would put it on, and she would take it off. I learned how to wrap my hijab from her and where exactly to put the pins. 

I have no idea what I would do without my mom. I thought as I started falling asleep. I have no clue. 

Before anything else could happen, I fell into a deep deep sleep. 

---

I woke up to a bang. Oh my Allah, did I just hear a bang?

I grabbed a hijab that was hanging from the bed frame and pulled it over my head. And then I heard someone scream. 

It was a scream that I was familiar with. A sound that I was used to hearing. My dad used to torture us all the time. Me. Taif. Mom. 

I remember praying to Allah to get him out of my life. I remember saying that I could live without him and his tortuous ways. I remember crying because he hurt me so much. 

I searched for my walker and started walking to the living room. There were bangs outside the room, and screams and blood chilling laughs. The bangs, I realized, were gun shots. 

Ya Allah save me from whatever is happening. Please. My heart rate was ten times faster than normal. I hope that everyone outside is okay. 

"Hello Neya." That voice was so horribly familiar that I almost screamed. "Long time no see." 

"Baba." I run into the living room. And I couldn't believe my eyes. 

My mom was pinned to the sofa by my father. My father who kicked us out 3 years ago, after I told him that I wasn't going to stop following Islam because he told me to. On his belt was a gun holster, which held a gun. He was wearing all black. 

His presence was scaring the crap out of me. I was froze in place. 

"Run Neya." My mom was whispering. My father looked down at her with disgust. "Run. Get away from him. For Allah's sake, run." 

I wanted to ask, why?

I looked at my father. "Baba, why are you here? How did you even get in here?"

He didn't even look at me as he said, "I have my ways darling."

Oh my Allah, he's so sick. He's so sinful it drips off him. Allah, what should I do? Should I really leave Ma here and run????

There was only one thing left for me to do. So I did it. 

"You are a sick, lying, cheating person!!" I screamed into his face. "How are dare you?! Get out!! Leave us alone!!! Aren't you the one who kicked us out?! You, who hate Allah and Islam, you who left Islam after receiving your full education from a Islamic center in Bangladesh! You are a shame! You are just paving your way to the hellfire, and when we stop you, you torture us! You insult us! You try to kill us!!!"

"Just like your mother." He shook his head with disappointment. "Always. You are just like your mother. Religion, for the most part, are for weak and pathetic creatures." 

He looked down at the woman he pinned so uncomfortably to the sofa, and suddenly he pulled out his gun. 

There was no warning, but I saw it coming when he rested his finger on the trigger. 

I turned and ran, tears in my eyes, knowing that nothing that I could do could save my mother from this monstrous person. 

Just when I yanked the door out open, I heard a gunshot. 

And I knew that my mother was gone from this world. Forever. I would never see her again. Not unless she goes to Jannah, and I go there too. 

I ran out before I was dead too.