ON HOLD The perks of being a Hafizah

Pain does hurt....a lot

بسم الله الرحمان الرحيم
Amatullah's POV

He lay on the floor almost motionless...

And it happened so spontaneously that as I curled into the floor, he too landed into the floor.

And all I had made out was one entity...

BANG.

So loud and clear of all prospect.

But as his head hit the floor my body shook violently inside and I begin to feel the beautiful scenery that I was once capturing had incinerated and almost didn't even exist from what had just happened.

I jolted up and grabbed the blanket and held it under my chin.

On the coffee table lay once a beautifully decorated crêpe.... now soaked in orange juice.

A step at a time I made way towards Yahya; flat face first on the ground.

His short yet long almost Curley locks of hair sat like sausages into the ground.
And the stray hairs of his beard peaked out and it was a pain; so excruciating, so piercing to see him on the ground that I was almost tempted to shake him...to tell him to stop joking and to be Yahya again.
To the the same one that held my Quran.
To be the same one that fought for my honour.

And out of nowhere a tear streamed down my cheek and as quick as I could I tried to shun it away...but failed.

Another one came along with a sharp inhalation.

I stepped over his foot to catch a glimpse of his face.

His eyes were shut, absolutely motionless and his hands quite weakly gripped the leg of the coffee table while his forehead was pressed into it.

"Yahya" I squealed out of a culmination of modesty and fear.

"Yahya!" This time I shouted his name...much louder and clearer.

No reaction.

I feared to touch him....that he would hate me forever to do such a thing. I didn't know what to do and so stepped out of the room and shouted:

"UMMI WA ZAHRA"

Zahra came running in her abaya and hijab towards me.

"What happened?" She looked quite frustrated and eve more so serious.

""I have never heard you shout like th..."

"Yahya" I sobbed. My eyes flooded with tears.

Her face went from olive to white.

Zahra burst through the door in complete distraught.

"Amatullah, what is the matter..f-f-fo-for s-su-such ungency" Ummi began to attempt to walk up the stairs.

I began to walk down and saw her in complete and utter devastation: her eyes were stained red and her skin drenched with tears as her hands began to shake in an attempt to walk up the stairs.

What have I done!?

I ran down the stairs and held Ummi's hands.

"Don't worry Ummi, please don't worry sit" she plonked herself into the stairs and began to sob uncontrollably.

Her blessed face slumped unto the wall as she began to stream a waterfall....to see a mother in such a state it was hard to stop the existing tears from the state of Yahya.

"Ummi....Ummi" I held her hand and began stroking it.

It wasn't my business and nor should it be...and attempted not to ask her anything.

"Why?" She sobbed harder and harder every time but attempting to make no noise.

She sounded like a boiling kettle letting the words "YA Allah" escape her in great pressure.

Everything that had just happened happened so quickly that it's almost impossible to calculate what happened when.

Everything was a blur.

In minutes the ambulance arrived and escorted Yahya from the room into the van.

"I'll go with him" Ummi began to whisper.

"No Ummi you can't. In the state you are in you can't." Zahra spoke as Yahya was being escorted.

"Where is Abu Bakr?" She spoke.

"Let him be" Ummi replied.

Abu Bakr...my Rahim... Was here.

I began to walk towards the living room when Zahra stopped me.

"It's better if you go with Yahya Amatullah...if you don't mind. Abu Bakr isn't in a state to go either." Zara searched my face for approval as I let out a small nod.

She handed me a phone.

"When he wakes up, just phone is straight away okay?"

"Okay"

"And I'll send Abu Bakr in 30/40 minutes" she tapped my back and in the ruffled scarf, in an oversized abaya that's wasn't mine, with a tired and unwashed face, I made an exit to accompany Yahya.