Eighteen-year-old Hayat Amanullah has it all: a loving family, a carefree life, and a future at the Ivy League school of her dreams. But her perfect life shatters when her oldest brother suddenly dies in a car accident. The tight-knit Amanullah fami...
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~ Pennyroyal (flower): Flee away ~
I don't know how it happens and for a couple moments I have no idea where I am. But when I become consciously aware, I realize I'm in the middle of the road in my neighborhood, and the headlights of a honking car are piercing my eyes.
I gasp, cold dread filling my insides. My head whips wildly around at the dimly lit streets. I look down at my bare feet and shaking hands, and a surprised sob escapes me.
A car door slams and I flinch, stumbling backwards.
"Hayat?"
I freeze in my tracks at the familiar voice. Too dazed to place who it is, I shield my eyes against the piercing headlights.
"Hayat, is that you?" A figure approaches me, and I rub my eyes and begin to back away quickly. In my haste I trip over the hem of my pajamas and fall backwards, palms scraping against the asphalt.
"Hey, hey." The figure holds up two hands and walks closer slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. He bends down, and the headlights finally illuminate his face.
Mikaal.
For the second time in a week, he watches me with concern etching his features. "Hey," he says. "It's just me. Are you alright? You scared the hell out of me, running onto the road like that. What are you doing outside right now?"
Words fail me. I have no shoes on, I'm sitting in the middle of the road, and I'm in my donut pajamas.
Mikaal's gaze trails to my bare feet and disheveled appearance and his eyes widen with renewed shock. "Oh God, Hayat, are you okay? Are you . . . were you sleepwalking?"
"I don't — I don't" — I lift my scraped, shaking hands and glance uncomprehendingly at my appearance.
Then I burst into tears.
"Okay, okay. It's okay. Come on, let me drop you off to your house." He stands and gestures for me to do the same. I stumble to my feet and mumble incomprehensible words through sobs, to which he replies by nodding or saying "okay" continually, reassuringly. He dashes to his trunk and pulls out a pair of men's shoes, gesturing for me to put them on. He keeps his distance but ushers me towards his car, and I limp the few steps, hissing lowly every time my feet touch the ground.
Mikaal returns to the trunk again and retrieves a throw blanket. Without touching me, he drapes it carefully around my shoulders.
It's at that moment that I realize I'm in my donutpajamas, nothing short of indecent in front of a man who isn't my father or brother. I tighten the blanket gratefully around myself, trembling as I slip into the backseat.
