Amira's Pov
I saw the embers flying into the smoke, the burned bits of my childhood home flying into the air before me. The inferno engulfed the walls of my house, its flames licking moving in circles, as it took it into its hungry maw. My knees buckled as I took in the sight before me. I fell to the ground, my knees scraping against the sharp stones of the barren ground. My dress getting ruined was the least of my worries right now.
First Mama,
Now Baba and Sheru.
I had lost them all.
My mind was either not able to process what happened, but the growing pain in my chest, hearkens me to the catastrophe that my mind was not willing to accept.
I remember the tears in father's eyes when I first became the youth wing president. I remember when he held me in his arms and I leaned my head on his warm chest, and I knew there was nowhere safer I could be.
I remember my hands weaving through the silky fur of Sheru and how he leapt into my embrace whenever I came into the room. He came to me as a small golden puppy as a gift from my father on my thirteenth birthday. He was the only one in our house who wasn't afraid to show the love he held for us, and in his presence all was glad.
And now he's gone, burnt and buried beneath the ruins of a demolished building, we once called home.
I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to, since my reputation was now ruined. I walked down the empty road, waiting for the next catastrophe that awaited me, though I wasn't sure it could be any worse than the one I just faced. There was nothing left for me. What could possibly go wrong now?
A silver SUV van drove down the road, the it's speed causing the dust on the footpath to be picked and blown on my face, but I couldn't care less. The car slowed down, pulling up to a stop beside me, probably to throw snide remarks at me or even some eggs and tomatoes, but I couldn't care less at this point.
The door slid open, and I heard a man address me. "Ms. Amira," he said. "We are here to take you home."
The windows of the car which I previously thought were films for privacy were actually bulletproof glasses, which most of our cars were installed with. The men inside were also decked out in expensive suits, and looked to be part of the establishment, only of a more discreet status.
The one who addressed me however was in our traditional attire with a bandit over his head. He had a round face, and a big frame which would be more intimidating if he was standing up. He had a kind smile on his face that somehow made me feel safe.
"You must be mistaken," I told them, trying to cover up my chest with my arms. "I don't have a home besides the one that burned away." I pointed to what was left of my house, the flames now calming down to embers. This was probably the state of my father's body. I shuddered at the thought and looked away. My body and mind were probably too tired or shocked to register what happened because the tears I had shed were too less compared to the loss I had just suffered.
Perhaps this is what happens when you lose so much that you can't lose anything else. You become part of the oblivion that was once your life, and so does your body and soul.
The guy who had addressed me first, spoke again.
"Mr. Khan makes no mistakes, Ms. Amira," he said with a smile.
Khan… It was my surname, but there are plenty of Khans in the world, not related to me. Heck, I didn't even know any of my family save for the one I witnessed the death of, over and over again.
How did I know if he was family or the enemy? Didnit even matter anymore? What was the worst thing they could possibly do? Kill me? That seemed like a welcoming thought at this point.
Use you as a puppet against their enemy, the political side of my brain spoke up.
Well the enemy couldn't be us, because we weren't capable of posing a threat to someone. You'd have to be worth something, even if it is the enemy, so being a traitor to my country should be out of the question.
At least, I'll have a purpose.
Before any other thought could pop up in my mind, I got in the car and took a seat along with the men.
"What's your name and where are we headed to?" I asked, casually.
"Dawood Demir," he answered, pouring me a glass of wine and offering it to me, which I graciously took. "We're flying to Egypt."
Jala's POV
"Will you stop freaking out?" I exclaimed exasperatedly at Salman, who was hovering over me like a shadow, chewing his nails in frustration. His eyes were roaming around the corners of their sockets, "discreetly" looking out for the men who were apparently stalking us. I would have laughed in any other situation seeing a guy like Salman acting so paranoid especially since he acts so tough and couldn't care less in most scenarios. He has been breathing down my neck since we first stepped into the airport and now it's just plain annoying.
"They're looking this way, now," he half whispered as if they could hear us through the noise and crowd, his eyes constantly fixated on the two men in white button ups and slacks. One of them was looking in our direction, but quickly looked away when I made eye contact.
"Has it crossed your mind that they could be on the same flight as us, so they inevitably have to go through the same procedures we went through?" I finished the last of my coffee, the straw making a slurping sound as it tried to suck whatever was left in the styrofoam cup.
"If you say that "our paths were destined to meet" I'm going to throw up," he warned and I bit my lip in order to suppress my laugh. His eyebrows worried in a frown, and his pink lips were in a pout before he began worrying them with his teeth. He actually looked scared.
"Okay, look," I began. "Even if they are following-"
"Stalking."
"Stalking us, there are hundreds of people around us. Plus, we are at the airport which means there is some level of security going on. They can't exactly put sacks over our heads and carry us wherever they want to."
"You're talking about the place where the security officers take selfies with people smuggling drugs, just because they are white or Chinese."
He had a point.
"Well, then I'll be freshening up a bit, then," I got up from my seat without another word and headed towards the washroom.
The coat on my shoulders felt like too much weight, right now. I took it off and placed it on the granite countertop beside the basin, and clutched onto its edges, taking short raspy breaths and looked at the girl in front of me, about to break.
It was really important to live in places I called in between. When I was younger and was traveling with my parents and brother, for attending an event, we would sometimes take the train or bus to take us to our destination. I often dreamt of something going wrong and end up somewhere else entirely. Maybe a creepy scenario to imagine, but I would do anything to escape. To understand what it meant to be free.
This is the most freedom that I had experienced in all my life. Why then did it feel like a prison just of a different kind? My heart thrummed faster, out of excitement or fear I could not say. It was like times in my childhood, when I was prescribed pills by the doctors in childhood but I was so afraid to take because I thought I would choke on them.
Would it be so hard to have some hope?
"It hurts, doesn't it?" I heard a voice, followed by the slow tapping of heels against the tiles. "The truth."
A stunning woman stood in front of me with a sly smile across her face. Her ebony hair were pulled back in sleek ponytail and her bronze skin doused with shimmer glowed in the bathroom lights. Her amber cat eyes watched me with amusement, that were led by a perfect Cleopatra nose. Her full lips were painted in a glossy shade of nude and twitched slightly in a almost condescending smirk. I backed away a little at the approaching of the stranger, and the tears that had previously filled my eyes, dripped on my cheeks.
Salman was right. Someone was following us.
"Funny, how weak we are willing to be at the hands of whom we love, when they should be the ones kneeling at our feet." She walked around me to the other basin, the smell of her strong perfume mingling with the air, and bent lower for a closer gaze at her reflection, pretending to fix her lipstick.
"Who are you?" I asked momentarily distracted by the truth and power her words held.
"Someone like you," she said, turning away from her reflection and fixed her gaze upon me once again. "Although I don't try and limit myself in the pursuit for purpose. My existence is enough for me to discover the endless limits of the unknown."
"So, hear me out when I say their interest in you is purely instrumental, and are only using you to get closer to their goal. Once it is achieved, it will all be over."
"Our goal."
"Sorry?"
"I said, our goal. The thing is you don't understand what this means. You're under the illusion of control of whoever is controlling you."
"And you aren't?"
"No. I have a purpose to guide me."
She scoffed before replying, "My dear there is no purpose, but only instinct that drives you. The will to prove yourself," Her close proximity makes it harder for me to breathe, her strikingly beautiful face mere inches from my own. One of her hand rests on the granite top, much like mine trying to hold on, preventing myself from falling. Its hard edge presses into my hip as her long exposed arm blocks my pathway to the door, trapping me between the basins and her body.
My breath gets caught in my throat as her smooth fingers brush the side of my face tucking a stray lock behind my ear. "The potential you undeniably hold but no one is willing to see. You try to hide it because you fear losing yourself, but you can't help wondering where you might be if there weren't any bonds."
Her words touch close to the heart. Too close and it's too much to take.
"Get away from me," l removed her hand and pushed her away from me. Picking up my coat from the counter, I turned away clutching my head, the events, lies, the truth, all making it spin.
"I'll be waiting, dear Jala. When all else fails and everyone leaves you to pick up the broken shards of your soul, and you finally decide to come back to your senses, I, Zohra, will be waiting to pick them up with you."
How the hell did she know my name? I was equally surprised at how easily she gave out her own.
Trust no one.
My purpose is stronger than that, I remind myself. I wanted to go without looking back but something stopped me for a second.
I turned back but there was no one there. The cubicles were all empty because that was fairly easy because all the doors were left wide open. I took a step inside and the door behind me went shut. The air got knocked out of my lungs once I was pressed against the tiled wall.
She moves awfully quick and quiet for someone in a six inch heel. "You know," she says, her palm pressed against the small of my back and something sharp pricked the side of my throat. "I would almost feel bad for cutting open such a beautiful neck."
I should seriously start carrying a weapon of my own.
"Look, I don't know what your game is, lady-"
"Oh you'll find out pretty soon," she said, drawing back her weapon. "In the meantime, I have something for you."
She held a clear card in front of my face, with small gold engravings that I couldn't decipher, but definitely could be analyzed on more thorough inspection. "Call it a token of trust."
"How do I know it won't blow up?" I asked, but took it nonetheless.
"My dear, if I really wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now. I just want to see if you're as good as they claim you to be. And, really? A card blowing up?"
"They?" I ask about the anonymous pronoun she used.
"You want me to give all the answers tonight? I thought you were better than that." She tutted, and made her way out the door. I put the card in my coat's pocket with a quivering hand, wondering what the hell was I going to do with it.