under the covers [hs au]

chapter thirty-four.

Rain pattered. Men whistled. Heels clicked.

Samira's legs couldn't cooperate with her brain. Somehow managing to hold Samira up, they stumbled down the street. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to preserve her modesty. Regardless of whether she covered herself, she knew too well that it wouldn't make a difference; Unease surged through her as the eyes of passersby raked her body.

One second, Samira could see, and the other, she couldn't. Her vision blurred, and she could feel the pressure build inside of her. Any catcall thrown at her echoed in her ears, dissipating as her mind scrambled. Her pace quickened, her chin raised up, and her eyes looked straight ahead.

Samira had no idea where the fuck she was. The idea that she was alone in the dark, drunk, sent a wave of fear through her bones.

The streetlamp flickered at the end of the street, a single light in a pitch-black sea. Wind howling in her ears, she turned to an alley, praying the secluded space would shelter her until she, somehow, managed to sober up.

Samira crept into the shadows, leaning onto the bricks. She breathed in with her nose and out with her mouth in an attempt to calm her rapidly beating heart.

God, Samira. You're so fucking stupid.

Samira's heart thumped—that was Wapa's voice. Not hers.

This is why I tell you to call me every night.

No one is going to save you. Only you can do that.

I didn't raise you to be like this.

It's haram because it's not good for you.

"Why are you always right," Samira groaned desperately, tears threatening to sting her eyes.

At the thought of her father, Samira felt her last shred of drunken confidence melt away. Every corner she looked, she could feel him watching her with disappointment. She didn't bother biting her tongue this time. Her voice cracked a wail; she drew her palm over her mouth so no one would hear her.

Time slipped right through Samira's fingers. Her ears were warm to the touch, her vision remained fuzzy, and her hands were shaky—she was still drunk and would stay so for a while.

Samira.

At the sound of her name, she shook her head at herself. She was just hearing shit again.

"Sam?"

The familiarity of that voice—Samira knew only one person that called her that.

Shit, shit, shit.

Samira pressed her back further into the wall, wishing it would swallow her whole. Her chest started to ache as she held her breath, hand pressed even more tightly onto her mouth. Her body trembled as she struggled to keep herself still.

Harry's footsteps echoed from the sidewalk, ringing in her ears like a haunting tune. She cowered in this corner, praying he wouldn't turn his heel to the right.

"Fuck it," he cursed, then his tracks went down the street.

The static sound of the fulgurating lights hummed through the air again—Harry was gone. She let out a shaky breath, loosening her rigid joints.

Right when she was about to make a run for it, her phone started ringing, lighting up Harry's name.

The voice in her head screamed at her. Just run. Her phone almost felt like a burning pan as she scrambled to turn it off. Immediately turning her heel, she staggered down to the other side of the alley.