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7th February, 2017.
MDC Brooklyn,
New York City, America.
"Rabia! You have a visitor"
Rabia looked up from her metal bunk, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Excuse me, did you just say that I have a visitor?"
"No. I said your village people are here" The woman rolled her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her tone and words. She had been around people from different races that she had eventually picked up some of their words—including Nigerians. Though Rabia is one of the few Nigerians that are in the prison, the rest weren't exactly Nigerians anymore since they all either have their American citizenship or green card but that didn't stop them from speaking like typical Nigerians.
Rabia fought the need to roll her eye at the woman knowing that unlike the doctor, she won't get away with it this time around. She sat up carefully, though wincing slightly. She got off the bunk just as the cop opened the cell that she was in after putting hand cuffs on her, some of her roommates whom were in there followed her with their gazes, wondering who could be the one visiting her.
She had been in that place for ten years, and not once has anyone ever visited her since the day Maria did.
Frankly speaking, even she was astounded. Her brows drew together in confusion as her lips tilted down slightly. She racked her brain, thinking of who her visitor could be but all her mind came up with was blank. Nothing. There was no one who knew or cared about her that would visit her.
She had no one.
Nevertheless, she followed the female cop who led her to the visiting room where other inmates were with their visitors. There were only a couple though, four to precise.
Rabia placed her hand over where her stab injury is, limping slightly due to the wound that was still at its awake. It hurts with every slight movement she makes. It makes her think that maybe the doctor didn't give her any pain killers. She wouldn't be surprised if that turns out to be the case, it wasn't the first time anyways.
The veil she used to cover her wild and untamed hair, slipped backwards slightly because of how small it is. Every other veil she manages to get were either stolen or shredded. Same thing goes for all the mats she and the other Muslims use to pray on.
The cop gestured to a person that was seated alone in a table for two, the person's back facing them. Rabia threw the cop a confused looked but still, made her way towards the person cautiously. Hand over her shirt covering up the bandaged area of the wound, brows drawn incredibly closer and eyes slightly narrowed, she reached the person.
It was a woman.
Rabia couldn't see her face clearly though so she walked around the table ever so slowly, her eyes focused on the woman she had never seen before.
