The Easiest Target

I Hate Him

Azan's waiting for me outside first thing in the morning. He gets out of his car and I gag, covering my mouth.

It pisses him off. He tries to take my bag but I hold it tight, moving away from him. "Your mom's watching from —"

"Don't talk to me," I interrupt. I gag again and walk away. He takes my elbow and directs me to his car.

"If you throw up in my —"

"You'll what? Buy a new one? Boo-h—ugwuh!" He turns me away from the car sharply and I vomit onto the pavement. Nothing more than water comes out. It's all I've eaten since yesterday. When I finish, he gets me into the car quietly. There's a stifling tremble of fatigue that doesn't leave me anymore. I can't rest since Chandler touched me. I still feel his weight over me, his hard fingers squeezing my wrist.

Azan leans over me without saying a word. I should panic. I want to but I don't have the breath to anymore. He pulls my seat belt on and leans over the steering wheel, watching me passively. For a second, I think he's feeling guilty for all he's caused. Then again, he didn't really do anything. I threw myself off the stairs. I made myself this helpless.

"Your cumin scent is stinking up my car," he sneers. "Do you bathe in that shit?"

I look at him and gag involuntarily and he shouts at me to stop.

"Your presence is literally poisoning me," I stutter through my wheezes, turning my head away from him.

I close my eyes for a second and listen to the gentle hum of the car moving forward. Slowly the tension unwinds down my back, giving into my fatigue.

***

My eyes shoot open and I fix my backpack in my lap. I wait for him to start driving. I stare up at the shriveling trees coming apart as the seasons change. The sun is setting. The sun ... is setting? I glance around at the affluent neighborhood. Where the hell did he take me?

Azan has one elbow propped up out the car's window, his temple resting to his knuckles as he skims the contents of his textbook. He puts his book away when he notices I woke. Who the hell reads a textbook? He offers me a bottle of water. I try to grip it but my body feels completely drained.

"How long has it been since you've slept?" he yawns, staring at his thick, black watch. "You were out for ten hours." I stare out the windshield in disbelief, not answering the question. "Are you taking your antibiotics?" he asks.

"What antibiotics?"

"I knew it! I told your mom to get them when you left the hospital — she said she would!" he shouts and curses some more. I feel I should defend her since she's my mom but I don't bother. She's so happy about him so she can deal with the consequences.

If Azan is going to marry me, he should know by now not to depend on my mother. She's scatter-brained.

He drives away and parks in front of a pharmacy. He comes back a while later, his eyebrows pulled down into a deep scowl.

He pours me a few pills. "The pharmacist said these won't hurt with the antibiotics but you gotta eat something." He presses the pills to my lips and I open, wheezing, sweating and still cold. He presses the bottle to my lips and lets me drink. I have no energy whatsoever to fight him away. He gets out again, disappears around the corner of the block, returning almost fifteen minutes later with a smoothie and a bowl of hot soup.

I watch him suspiciously. "Why are you being nice to me?" I ask.

He stirs the hot soup to cool it for me. "Is there a rumor saying I'm a jerk?"