Pure At Heart

Pure At Heart (3) The Kind Of Nature I Had

"Therefore remember Me and I will remember you. Be grateful to me and donot reject faith." [Al-Baqarah 2:152]

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“What do you want?”, I asked him. His eyes suddenly glimmered as he was waiting for me to say this. My head started to hurt as his lips curved into a smile. My mind and body both were not responding at the moment. And as much as I wanted to get up and run out of this room, I couldn’t. It was as if someone else was controlling me right now.

“I want you to trust me. I know what people say but im not what they think. I never was and im certainly never going to be”, he said, looking straight in my eyes. I nodded lightly as I tried to get up again.

“Here… let me help”, the guidance counselour held my hand and helped me stand up and surpisingly, it worked. He walked me to the door and as I was about to get out, he stopped me by my hand.

“You trust me, right?”

I nodded again and got out as quickly as I could. I heard the door close behind me. A breathe of relief escaped my lips. I decided to call my mother and tell her to pick me up. After what just happened, I don’t think I was ready for another lesson of anything today. I was glad nobody saw me coming out of there, or I would be swormed and questioned until I graduated.

*Flashback Over*

“I don’t want to wear any spiders tomorrow”, I said, putting my duffle bag in the closet.

“Hamna… be a little grateful, would you?”, Hafsa scolded me. I gave her a glare as I closed the closet door. The only light that was on, was the yellow lamp that was resting in the corner. The apartment was in front of a Hospital, so I could hear car honks, sirens, and people talking very frequently.

“How much long till we get out of here?”, I touched the couch, only to find a sheet of dust covering it.

“Hamna!”, Hafsa snapped.

I smiled as to tease her and got out the room. Aunty Aamina’s living room was no bigger than my bedroom backhome. It had a Tv, a love seat and a rocking chair. The only thing I found interesting in this house  since we came here, was the refrigerator. I walked right up to it and without hesitating, I opened its door, revealing the food heaven. But the imaginary glowing light and vocals lasted no longer than 4 seconds because the only thing that was behind the refrigerator door, was a bottle of milk. Half bottle of milk.

Yay.

I closed it without touching anything and came back to the bedroom.

“Im hungry”, I said. And that was no lie. The only thing I had eaten all day was the breakfast and the snack crackers on the plane. My stomach was growling and most probably, it was trying to eat itself.

“Get something from the fridge”, she said, straightening up the bedsheet and jumping on the bed, her book in her hand.

“I don’t think anyone’s interested in eating the milk bottle”, I said. I looked at her. She wasn’t paying any attention. I had annoyed her enough ever since we came here. And I think she needed a break. My blabbering mouth wouldn’t stop until someone tried to stop me. I hate this habit but at the same time, I love to be chatterbox.

“Hafsa IM STARVING!”, I yelled. She looked at me and reached into her bag. She handed me her leftover sandwich.

“Where did you get this?” I asked her. She gave me one of those glares I probably should avoid more often.