A walk on thorns

Chapter 56| Luck And Prayer

Sabrina's POV

To say that I spent the entire night crying would be an understatement. Mukhtar’s fury raged through the house, drowning out everything else. He beat Anisha until her voice faded completely, I could hear the relentless sound of the strikes, but not a single word or cry from her. Rubina? Her sobs had disappeared into the night too. I didn’t know if she had fallen asleep or succumbed to something worse.

When I finally woke, it was 4 a.m. My eyes burned, swollen from tears, and my heart felt as heavy as the silence that cloaked the house. I roused Jenny and Celestine and walked toward the living room.

The scene before us was enough to freeze the air in my lungs. Anisha lay sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood beneath her. Her face was battered, bruises and swelling distorting her delicate features. Rubina had cried herself into exhaustion, her small body slumped in the corner.

I stood there for a moment, swallowing the lump in my throat, forcing myself to act. I discreetly removed the hidden camera from above the door and slipped it into my pocket. Evidence, I reminded myself. This madness needed evidence. But there was no time for that now. I turned to the others, my voice trembling but firm. “Take them to their rooms,” I said.

Jenny and Celestine hesitated, their wide eyes brimming with fear. They weren’t prepared for this; none of us were. But the last thing I needed was Sarah’s decision, her bravery, rippling through the rest of the household, leaving us even more vulnerable. “Go,” I urged. “I’ll take care of the rest. Just go back to your rooms afterward.”

We moved quickly but carefully. Once Anisha was in her room, I closed the door and locked it behind me. The sight of her up close made my stomach churn. Her body was a mosaic of bruises, swelling, and cuts, with not a single untouched spot. Her blood pressure read 190, Ya Allah! My hands shook as I worked to cool her down with a cold massage, her limp body unresponsive under my touch. I cleaned her wounds, gently wiping away dried blood, before dressing her in soft silk pajamas. Her face... it was almost unrecognizable.

Switching on the AC, I took one last look at her battered figure before stepping out. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. I wanted to cry all over again, but I knew tears wouldn’t help now. I left her to rest and retreated to my own room.

There, I turned on the hot water and let it scald my skin as I scrubbed away the despair clinging to me. Once I was out, I prayed Fajr, whispering fervent duas, my forehead pressed to the mat as I begged for guidance, for strength, for a way out of this endless darkness. Afterward, I recited Suratul Yaseen, letting the verses wash over me like a balm.

By the time I finished, the sun had begun its slow rise, casting a faint golden glow through the curtains. I took a deep breath, stood, and dressed for the day, picking out simple clothes that allowed me to move freely.

At 5:45 a.m., MJ called. His voice was warm, tinged with concern, as he informed me he was on his way.

I nodded to myself, the sound of his voice bringing a momentary comfort. I wrapped a hijab over my hair and slipped on Crocs before grabbing my phone and heading out.

The air outside was crisp and fresh, the quiet hum of nature a stark contrast to the chaos I had just left behind. I crossed the road and waited, my gaze fixed on the horizon as the morning light painted soft hues across the sky.

When MJ’s car appeared in the distance, a sense of relief washed over me. He parked a few feet away and stepped out, his presence steady and grounding. I took a deep breath, my feet moving on their own as I met him by the car.

The weight of everything threatened to spill over, but I held it together, knowing that now, more than ever, I needed to stay strong.

"Good morning, beautiful," his voice reached me like a gentle breeze, soft, yet carrying so much weight. MJ stood before me, his tall frame wrapped in a black hoodie, the hood resting around his shoulders, framing his face. There was something different about him, something that felt both distant and familiar. The raw tenderness in his gaze pulled at me, unraveling my already fragile state.