Gang medic (Hijabi Love Story)

Iftar can wait

I think about studying and than I study and than I study some more. The wise words of Paris Gellar. I bet Paris would also tell me to do myself a favour and lower my expectations of myself because in reality I cannot successfully multi task whilst curled up on the sofa watching Gilmore girls and study at the same time.

Do I still scream at Rory for passing up the perfectly good prospect known as Tristan Dugray whilst writing out the difference between a plant cell and animal cell ? Yes

Anyway its the school holiday or for us year 11s just a long week of the world aka our teachers bullying us into studying .

I , Safiya Khaled , a burnt out student only continue to study for 2 things
1. Make it out the hood
2.Becone rich enough to buy my parents a house

Its also Ramadan so im fasting and there are wayyy too many Luke diner scenes in this episode . I decide to take a break from studying and clean up a bit as well as begin to prepare some snacks for Iftar. Not that I need to I'm home alone for basically most of the holiday. Mum works the night shift and dads gone to india to be with my sick grandmother. My older sister Mariam is at uni in Manchester she's part of the Islamic society so iftar is a big celebration every day of Ramadan with lots of good food .

I dont mind being home alone . Its great to have some quiet time to yourself as long as you don't watch any true crime documentaries and happen to have the sweetest neighbours who are also my second cousins once removed apparently. Its a desi thing we don't have a family tree but family forests .

I've fried enough samosas for me to devour (which is all 24 from the frozen packet - I'm a growing girl after all) at exactly 9:21pm so an hour or two to go.

I sweep the floor , was the dishes wipe the counter top and decide to take out the overflowing trash bag .

I'm headed down the stairs distracted from the smell of biriyani cooking in my neighbours kitchen maybe they'll send me a plate over . My mum and aunty Khadija ( our neighbour) often trade baked goods to eachother its become a sweet little tradition .

Anyway I'm taking the trash out and wrapping my shawl tighter around me as there's a chill in the air when all of a sudden I'm dragged back inside the entryway of my flat with the door slamming shut and now i feel like that I'm waiting to meet the angel of death . Well Ramadan is a good month to die ... I guess .

"You've got to help us "

Why is the angel of death asking for help?

And that's when I snap back into reality. A boy who looks to be about my age with the fear of God illuminating in his hazel eyes is clutching onto a guy who could be actually be meeting the angel of death . Blood . Blood has drenched his white T shirt stained his hands and still continued to pool out his right shoulder. He's been stabbed.

"Ya Allah " is all I can whisper

"Please. He's my brother" is all the boy says

"Come on " I say wrapping my shawl around the bleeding shoulder to keep pressureon the wound. Modesty is the least of my worries right now .

We carry him as quickly and carefully as we can into my living room .

I fling away my text books and revision cards off the sofa and place him down .

I'm praying those 2 years spent learning first aid as an army cadet will come in handy.

"Keep putting pressure on the wound "

I'm reaching for the phone to call 999 when the younger brother shouts " I swear to God if you call 999 . Getting the ambulance involved means getting the feds involved "