An Echoing Race.

Chapter Thirty Four.

Sorry for the long wait guys. This last week has probably been the most stressful week of my life! Alhamdulillah.

Uni is over which would usually mean a showering of updates BUT:

1. I have an operation after tomorrow and will need 3-4 days in recovery. [Make dua please]

2. Ramadan follows directly after that and for those who have read works of mine before, will know that I don't usually update in Ramadan as I like to focus on the month and gain as many rewards as I can.

Enjoy! Salam.

#Chapter Thirty Four#

{Unedited}

It was only when the glorious rays of sun sparkled up the room and the birds began their chirping did I roll up the prayer mat I had been sitting on for the last two hours. I closed the copy of the finely decorated Qur'an and placed it back on the bedside table. 

With a loud sigh, I removed my prayer clothes and threw them to the side, revealing the pyjamas I had been wearing underneath. Moving towards the bed, I pulled back the blanket and slid under. Bringing the covers to my chest, I shifted so that I was laying on my back comfortably, relaxing my arms by my side.

I stared at the white ceiling above me, knowing it was useless attempting to get some sleep. If I hadn't even been sleeping properly at night, I highly doubt I'd get even a wink of sleep now when it was light outside.  

So instead, I resorted to playing some stupid game on my phone and it only entertained me for so long. Next, my eyes found the book 'where the streets had a name', a classic book read by nearly all of Palestine's population. The book was set fifty years back when Palestine had still been under occupation and it was a sort of treasure amongst the oldies these days as it brought nostalgic memories of life amongst war. I picked up the book almost immediately, glad that at least some people other than myself like to read hard covered books. 

They were a rarity, slowly being extinguished with the use of tablets and other technologically upgraded equipment I tried not to bother myself with. 

I managed to read a few chapters and by then, the sun was fully set and the sound of human life emerged. Cars whizzed past on the street and the children squealed in their flustered groups. The sound of rubbish bins being dragged back into houses by grumbling dads combined with the thumping of a hammer against the nail from next door's renovations almost made me forget the tragic happenings in my life. 

With a pensive sigh, I threw the book across the queen sized bed and moved towards the window that overlooked the street. I pushed the curtain aside and peered down at the daily chaos ensuing before me, wishing and longing I was a little kid again. 

When one was hurting as much as I, innocence and naivety was seen as a blessing. Travelling back into the days where wearing a pretty dress and fighting for cheesecake at night was my only concern sounded pretty damn good to me right now. My life had taken such a drastic turn - in my eyes at least - and I really wasn't coping well. Four days ago, when baba and Tariq had confessed everything to me, I had escaped the house with a well-defined threat to three security guards at the gate, only to end up at my aunty's house. Despite the fact that I aimed at steering clear from anyone who knew about my past and withheld it from me, I couldn't help but end up at the one person's house who looked and acted exactly like my mother.