The Easiest Target

Trust Me

Azan drives us back to his house and has to half-carry me out of the car to get into the house. I can barely keep my eyes open anymore, my body getting heavier by the second. When I refuse to get undressed, he shoves me onto his bed and pulls my boots off while I struggle. He throws me a change of clothes and I get dressed grudgingly in the bathroom because he threatens to change me himself.

So I'm really going to sleep over? Thankfully he has enough sense to steer clear of his room. He drags me to the massive living room downstairs and we take up separate couches. We stare at the ceiling in the dim light coming from an aroma lamp sitting on the fireplace.

I can't sleep despite how badly I want to. My head is throbbing and a gentle tremble has set in my bones.

"You — Tokyo ..." Azan starts. "Did you guys really never do anything?"

I stare tiredly at the darkness. "Are you accusing me of something again?"

Azan is quiet for so long I assume he's asleep. I hear rustling in the dark and then Azan's voice comes out low and kind: "I like you, Hadeel. Why won't you just give me a chance?"

I sit up, my eyebrows furrowed, anger swelling in me like another being pouring evil energy into my tired body. "You don't know a thing about me!"

"I know more than you think," he mumbles. "Never mind. Go to sleep."

"What do you think you know about me?!"

"Forget it. Go to sleep, Hadeel. I'm trying really hard right now," he raises his voice a bit.

"You are ruining my life, Azan," I snap, "so I need to know you're an asshole properly before I seriously commit to plaguing you with duaas!"

I hear rustling again and the next thing I know, Azan's shadow is on top of me. I bring my knees up and punch his chest as panic burns adrenaline through my veins. He calmly holds my knees down and stares into my eyes.

Even though I can barely see him in the dim light, there's nothing like an attractive person staring at you to make you feel like an ugly potato.

"Ruining your life, huh?" he says, his toothpaste fresh breath all over my face. "I'm saving you! You should be kissing my feet! If I had asked you to marry me, would you have agreed?"

"No," I spit. "I still wouldn't agree to marry you. I never did! You're nothing but a disgusting, shameless, playboy! You take me to a party against my will and go screw another girl—"

"Do you want me to screw you?" he says in a tone so serious I start struggling with all my heart. He restrains me like it's nothing and I start crying and screaming for him to get off.

"I told you from the start that I wasn't going to touch you," he says calmly. I keep my head turned away, my body shaking. "I told you this was a marriage for show. If you want it to be more, you have to let me know from now. Carla is my girlfriend, Hadeel. I do that sort of shit with her. Do you want me to break up with her and do stuff with you? Are you jealous? Is that what all this is about?"

I close my eyes tight as acid crawls up my throat, threatening to come out of my mouth. I take a shuddering breath. "I'd rather watch you get castrated."

"Do you think it was easy for me to convince my mom I want to marry a girl that comes from a poor family from the poorest villages of Ibb?" he says in Arabic. "You think I'd go this far if I didn't like you? Do you know how hard it was to convince my family I wanted you instead of a drop-dead gorgeous wife in Jordan?"

"Why not Carla?"

"I picked you to be my wife because I like you, Hadeel. I don't want anyone else."