LOOK AT ME (Muslim Story)

LOOK AT ME (28)

"Your mom seems nice."

He disappeared into the other room, on his way to get something. He left me sitting in the washroom counter for a couple of minutes before she showed back up with a plastic box full of bandaids and injuries.

He shrugged, "She's just being protective. Sorry if you got the wrong idea."

"Wrong idea?"

He took out a large bottle with clear fluid. Must be alcohol or hand sanitizer.

"Yeah you know," he flew open the cap of the bottle, "When she asked you if you were Muslim and shit. She's just being a religious mom."

"Religious mom?"

"I'm not allowed to hang out with girls." He took a small Pom Pom from the cabinets under the sink and pushed a bit of burning fluid on to it, "Its not halal. That's why she was a bit hesitant."

"It's haram to talk to girls?" I raised my eyebrows worried, "But you talk to me all the time!"

"Used to." He looked at my direction but never my eyes, "I used to talk to you. Now you don't want anything to do with me and I don't even know why."

I stayed silent. He got me.

I had nothing else to say to him now. I want to tell him, I want to tell him so bad why I can't even be around him, why it's risky and what happened to me last night. How my body was taken advantage of and how Avery tried apologizing for something so STUPID.

"This is going to hurt." He tried to warn me before pressing the alcohol against me stab wound.

I winced hard, burning sensation going through my body. Ahmed noticed the pain I felt, so he pressed it a little bit less hard, hoping it wouldn't hurt that much anymore.

I gripped his tee shirt hard, when he put more burning liquids on my wound, it felt like I was standing on top of a stove with boiling hot water dumped all over me.

He would lean into my ear, whispering soft things, "Sh, it's okay. It's just a little pain, it'll pass."

I missed him. This side of him. I missed Ahmed Wahab when he would comfort me and tell me everything was okay.

Because of Ahmed and how he was holding on to me, I completely ignored the pain. He was there, helping me, stopping the blood, stopping my leg. He was there.

With me.

"Are you done?" I winced one last time when he wiped off the excess, "Wrap my leg up already."

He chuckled, "Wrap your leg up?"

Isn't he supposed to just take a towel or a bandage and just wrap it around my leg? That's how you cure people no?

I nodded, "Yeah, like a bandaid."

He sighed, "Emerald, a band aid isn't going to help an open wound."

"What do you know?"

He opened up the same box again before pulling out a needle. He put a type of thread through it, taking a lot of concentration from him. What the hell does he think he's doing with that needle?

"Patch me up, so I'm ready to go." I rushed him, "Remember, my dad's waiting. I haven't seen him in—"

"This'll do." I heard him whisper to himself. He held the needle to the air before sighing and turning his position towards me.

Still not looking AT me though.

"This is going to hurt like none other." He warned me, coming close to me with that needle in his hand.