Freedom?

ICTS

I should have realized from the start that it would not go well. It was stupid. Okay, correction, it was not just stupid, but also extremely dangerous. 

As the wise girl I am, of course, I got my dad to buy it for me (first stupidity point). Or wait, the first was the idea and the decision to buy the book, and then the purchase (second stupidity point). And of course he agreed, it was only DKK 150 (about 23 dollars) for the book (have you seen how expensive books can be?), therefore it did not take long to make him finally cave in and buy it.

The next problem, however, was the delivery, because the book was not allowed to end up in anyone else hands but that of mine... because otherwise I would be in- pardon my language - in some deep shit. 

There is no better way to get out to ones Afghan Muslim parents than them finding and opening up your package (this can ALL with a Middle Eastern / Asian ethnicity relate to, our parents ALWAYS open our post) and find a book with the headline "I CAN'T THINK STRAIGHT" and of course with two cuties on the front page... f*ck. Now that I think back, I realize that I must have had a crazy big death wish. 

But enough of that, I came home one day and see the package lying in our mailbox, and at the same speed as 'The Flash' I flare my bag open and stuff the package down (there was just about enough space for it, Thank God) and hurry up. And when I got into my room, I stuff my backpack into my closet (where it belongs to), and away with that problem. 

Later on I opened the package and looked at the book. It was beautiful. And a feeling of sadness hit me in that moment because I knew I could not just leave it there, but I wanted to read it, but how...? 

And as the genius I am, I cover the cover with cardboard - and do the same with my other books as to not cause suspicion. Brilliant. And as expected, my mom could not stop herself from asking. 

"What have you done with your books?" She had frowned and stepped closer to them "Have you covered them with cardboard?"

"Uh, yeah, the cat scratched them," I had swallowed nervously before I had continued "and they have become quite fragile." 

"Hmm..."

I must have been lucky and passed the inspection for it was not brought up nor mentioned again, but I still remember it troubling me. 

I read the book. And hid it completely away. But the deep feeling of unrest would not leave me, for what if my mom found it and opened it?

I remember the moment the thought had crossed my mind, I had sunk even deeper into my bed and pulled the duvet over me as if to shield me from what I knew I had to do. 

And I did it.