The Imperials

Throttle

Abu Huraira reported Allah's Messenger (may peace be upon him) as saying: The strong-man is not one who wrestles well but the strong man is one who controls himself when he is in a fit of rage.

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Halima POV:

Keeping my head low and disregarding my surroundings, I glided down the school halls trying to conceal myself with the walls, away from the sight of students. Imagine just turning invisible whenever I desired. What if I had the power to camouflage?

Just like any other day, I never go unnoticed in the halls. Someone will point out and gossip about me in hushed whispers, loud enough for me to hear, or block my path and ask the stupidest inhuman questions ever. And, to make matters worse, it always turned out to be Gideon placing his nose right in my business, and then passing on fraud rumours.

"Halima," Gideon sneered with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk plastered on his lips. "Eww, what kind of name is that?"

I narrowed my eyes on him. Most of the time, I zipped my lips and weighed the pressure on my shoulders just to listen to his verbal bullying attempts. However, today was different. I was enraged with my parents in the first place who had booked me in for a therapy appointment next weekend. Why? Why? Why? Why were my parents doing this? Why did Gideon have to do this garbage? Why did every human being have to be such torture?

I sighed with a glare, fisting my hands and gritting my teeth. "Not today, not in the mood!"

"Did she just threaten me?" He laughed, questioning his friends behind him. "You are such a loser. I bet your marks are so low that your parents beat you up for it. No wonder you're mentally ill! You sicko--"

"I'm warning you!" I glared, side-stepping his gang by pushing past Easton roughly, but Gideon was too quick. He stubbornly stood rigidly on my path, attempting to continue his spell of mental destruction for me. 

"Or else?"

"Move!" I commanded. 

"Is that what your parents teach you, rudeness and threats?"

"For the fact," I abruptly smashed my fist in his face, not being able to leash my anger anymore. "Yes, they do. And, if they saw me right, they'd give me a clap on the back and simply give me a knife to finish you off. My father plays it off as ruthless. You pig!"

I was mad at Gideon for standing in my way all the time; every single day. I was mad at Mr. Alan for giving my dad the stupidest idea of therapy, and I was so mad at dad for being gullible enough to listen to him. I was enraged at mom for not stopping dad. I was mad at their parents for not stopping both of them. I was mad at Musa, Harun, and Mymoonah for being so normal, and not me. I was mad at Allah for not giving me a normal life. 

"You Arabs are so damn rude?" Gideon grumbled, rubbing his swelled cheeks as he glanced at my glaring expression. I was forcefully handcuffing my hands in my pockets before they throttled him, and gritted my teeth using all my force to control my anger.

"What?" I seethed, challenging him to utter another word of mockery. I swear, one more phrase and he'd be dead on this ground.

"You Arabs are always--"

"You piece of garbage!" I screamed, lunging for his neck and choking him with both my hands. "I am no Arab girl. Not even a single Arab gene in me. I am freaking white, just like you. Call me rude, you call your entire race rude--"

Gideon choked. "Stop, I can't breathe!"

"Never!" I hissed, using more force on his neck. 

"Stop..." He tried to pry my hands off his neck.