Crimson Hunger

Chapter 19

It took the four—Ian, Ada, Eyad and Ali—almost an hour to arrive at a two-story house near a rocky shore. There were many other similar houses there. The waves violently rapped against the shore, creating a relaxing sonata. Eyad and Ali's mother, father and two sisters greeted them and invited them inside. Their mother was an old, chubby lady with a very bossy yet loving attitude like a Mama Bear.

Ada felt a camaraderie grow instantly between her and every member of this family—she missed her own family and wished she was among them instead. They all sat in a very warm square-shaped room with long wood couches covered with flowery cushions, chatting enthusiastically and drinking yerba maté tea with milk using metal straws. She found it very refreshing.

A feeling of self-consciousness overwhelmed her as she saw how clean and tidy the family's daughters were. She looked at her feet—her socks were torn and her skin bloody. Her clothes were covered in dirt and her hands looked as if she had spent days peeling beans and eggplants.

Leaning toward Ada, Ian whispered in her right ear, his voice hoarse, "Don't tell the truth."

"The truth about what?"

"About us getting kidnapped and all. Make something up; they seem very simple, I bet they'll buy anything you tell them."

Slightly turning her head and shifting her eyeballs to her right, Ada flinched at the sight of the zombie who was a very handsome hunk only a few days ago. Now that his face was very close to hers and illuminated by the room's fluorescent lights, she found herself obliged to study it. His eyelids were weary and heavy and his eyes high-strung and bloodshot. The black shadows beneath them popped as his complexion became paler and completely lost its glow.

Guilt bit her for having tormenting him after he started the fire and wished she could unsay every mean word she released to his face.

"Tell us, Ada, how did you end up getting lost?" Yasmin, a fair-skinned teenager with thick eyeglasses and a red ponytail, asked.

"Yasmin!" Her mother, Hanan, snapped, "Where are your manners? Since when do we disturb our guests with such questions?"

Yasmin was underwhelmed but instantly restored her perky smile and said, "The water in the bathroom is boiling and the oil stove is blazing. How about I give you something to wear after you've taken a shower until we have washed and dried your clothes?"

Ada's upbringing would suggest she responded with a "thank you" and "please don't trouble yourself," but instead she said, "Yes, please, I'd love that!"

She said to Ian, whose eyes were widely open one would think his eyelids were about to rupture, "I'll go take a bath. Sleep meanwhile and when you're awake, you'll take a bath, too."

He continued to stare at her and didn't even nod. Ada didn't know that his new friend, Clara, was accompanying him this whole time, humming tunes in his ears and laughing occasionally for no reason.

***

The bathroom was very warm and steamy. Ada let out a moan of pleasure as the hot water touched her skin. She shuddered and, ever so slowly, immersed her entire self in it. Bathing in tubs was not her thing, but this time it felt like paradise. She let down her waist-long, dark chestnut hair and savored the feeling of her wavy locks draping over her shoulders and back. It was as if she'd forgotten she ever had hair.

Very thoroughly, she washed her hair and body with the laurel oil soap bar Yara, the family's eldest daughter, had given her. The aroma filled her nostrils, drawing a soft smile on her tired face. Her thoughts drifted to Ian, who wasn't himself anymore—or maybe he was; she doubted ever being able to fully decipher his character. One thing of which she was sure: He definitely was not wicked. There was a soft heart behind those steel ribs, but it was caged and deprived. Besides, if all people had similar judgments, the world would have been an unbearably boring place. Some people perceive the world in blacks and whites only, while others can see the different shades of gray. Some only saw blacks and some only saw whites. Some created blacks while others fought for whites, but even those fell into the trap of the world's grays without acknowledging it—or probably without even being aware of it.