Le Chase Chapter 14

Previously in Chapter 13:

There was a little gap in the steel lockers, I looked around me just to be sure no one was watching, I quickly slipped the note in Layal's locker and escaped the room just in time.

But what I found when I left the room, forced me to freeze in my spot in shock.

"Ebrahim! Shitsawe ehny?" Layal's voice was loud, there was a glass thing over one of the doors so I could see there was a tall looking guy, with the same skin and nose as Layal's, he was peeking around the cafe, looking suspicious.

"Bas gelt I'd visit you." Ebrahim, Layal's brother, the brother I was supposed to know, shrugged.
I was busted.

-

-Layal's POV-




 I hoped my voice was loud enough, I saw Thari make his way into the kitchen a minute ago and I purposely told Ebrahim about my new job so he could come in and do his "checking". This meant he would check if there would be too many guys, the types that would just flirt and hit on you and then he'd probably tell me to quit, but of course, all of the guys here were respectable and polite, non of them tried to hit on a girl like those guys in the malls.

I just wanted Ebrahim to show up so I'd see Thari's reaction.

"Yir'9a el manager adish el ma6bakh?" Ebrahim asked me in a childish tone, it was his first time seeing me work and he had never tried out intern/summer or any part time jobs for experience purposes.

"Ferro yiwanes, ma ra7 yigoul shay 3ade." I laughed at his fearful expression, he had a cap over his hair and his eyes were much darker than mine. I ushered him into the kitchen, expecting to find Thari there but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Hatha mnu?" Ebrahim hissed, his eyes following one of the workers, his name was Jarra7.

"Jarra7 Al-X." I replied, my eyes trying to search for Thari's familiar tall height, his messy hair and the beanie he usually wore to work, but the only thing I found was the steal plates that surrounded me and the workers scurrying all over the place, trying to work as fast as possible.

"Ohh, a3arif okhouh." Ebrahim nodded in approval. Kuwait was such a small place. I couldn't just ask Ebrahim if knew a "Thari Al X", then he'd be suspicious on why I'd even ask about a boy so I had to make sure he saw him.

"Ohhh, hathee mnu?" Ebrahim's eyes turned flirtatious once he spotted Farah, wearing an apron that barely covered her naked legs.

"Ebrahim!" I smacked his muscled arm and he laughed in response, his dark eyes twinkling.

"Atghashmar atghashmar!" Ebrahim held up both hands in defence.

"Okay bas?" Ebrahim looked around, looking bored already.

Ugh Thari where are you? 

"I guess-" I was about to say the words but I heard a loud clank! The noise was coming from the small locker room to my left, I quickly turned around and found a shadow of a tall masculine body moving around.

"Offh!" A deep voice groaned out in pain and I could hear other things being thrown over to the ground by accident.

I found him.

"Are you okay?" I said after I pulled the door of the locker room open, trying to hide my evil smile. Ebrahim was right behind me as we both stared at Thari, he was sitting on the cool ground, his hair looking messier than before and the mops were lying next to him, I was guessing the mops toppled over by accident and made him trip over.

He looked like a little boy who just caught for stealing candy.

"Uhm," Thari mumbled, he tried standing back up but the mops made him trip again and fall back down, butt first. I turned around to watch Ebrahim's expression but I was surprised to find Ebahim wasn't even standing behind me anymore, he was too busy chatting up Farah.

I turned back around and found Thari standing now, he was much taller than me and so I had to look up to face him, I could have sworn he looked relieved for a second but now he looked emotionless and confident, his usual self.

"Yalla ana barou7 Layal." Ebrahim called out, I was about to stop him but he was too quick, Farah looked shy and I was pretty sure he got her number.

Darn it, just great, my plan had to mess up by itself.

I faced Thari once again, he was staring at me, holding back a smirk. He was up to something, and I was going to catch him for it.

"Are you okay?" Thari said, trying to not laugh.

"Just great." I said sarcastically, passing him to go to my locker, I just wanted an excuse to give him my back. I could feel his eyes on me for a few minutes before he walked off without another word.

Once I was sure he was gone, I didn't bother opening my locker since I didn't want anything, I left the room and passed Thari when he wasn't looking.

-

-Thari's POV-

"Shfeek?" Jarra7's sudden voice crushed my daydreams and I was back in the kitchen, watching Jarra7 toy with a knife.

"Ha ma feene shay." I smirked to myself, remembering how easily I got out of the Ebrahim and Layal mess.

"Tene7t." Jarra7 laughed at me.

"Oh, asif." I laughed along, scratching the back of my neck, tilting it a bit, making myself seem as if I was trying to stretch but I wanted an excuse to look at Layal. There was a window on the door to the cafe so I could see her perfectly through it, she was leaning back against the counter, her bright eyes were staring at her friend's as her full lips kept moving, she was engrossed into a conversation.

I saw her by the locker room, I was curious if she read my note that I left in her locker but she was already gone when I went to check by the lockers again.

"Jarra7, t7b wa7da?" I asked, breaking the silence. All I could hear were the clink clanks of the forks and spoons around the kitchen, the water swishing around, cleaning the cake smeared dishes.

"H-ha?!" Jarra7 looked startled by my question, his cheeks heating up for a few minutes.

"Ahhh Jarra7 ye7b?" I chuckled, teasing him. His small eyes squinted at me, he had a tall yet thin frame and his eyes were shielded with transparent glasses.

"Heyy ushhh!" Jarra7 turned around quickly, looking scared that someone heard me.

"Mnu elbent?" I chuckled even more, loving his silly reaction. He was so innocent.

"A9lan ma t7bny." Jarra7's shoulders sagged lower, his eyes full of sadness.

"Shdarak?" I asked in a curious tone.

"She doesn't know I even exist." He shrugged, trying to end the subject.

"Laish ma tgouleha?" I tried filling him with confidence.

"Mu men 9ijik 9a7?" Jarra7 looked gobsmacked of my suggestion.

"Ohh, she's that type of girl?" I scratched my beard that I was too lazy to shave off, the small sprouts of hair tickled my fingers.

"That type of girl" meant the type that wasn't so open to go up to, the type of girl that was so respected, it was just obvious that she didn't even know anything about dating and wouldn't even think about it. Those types of girls were impossible to approach.

Just like Layal.

Ugh stop thinking about her, Bdour's easier you know.

I ignored the evil voice inside my head.

"Eee." Jarra7 frowned.

"Noura, mu 9a7?" I said her name, it was so obvious, she was one of Layal's friends and she always wore her hair up in a bun, not bothering to put make up to work but she had flawless skin, she didn't need any. Her frame was petite and thin, she suited Jarra7 perfectly.

"Shdarak?!" Jarra7 looked even more shocked now.

"It's obvious." I laughed, remembering the many times I caught him staring at her when she wasn't looking and then quickly turning around when she looked back at him.

"Ley hal deraja?" Jarra7 sighed, letting go of the knife in his hand and met my eyes.

"Eee." I continued to laugh.

"Ma yi'9a7ik." Jarra7 couldn't control his smile.

"Embala." I kept laughing, it was adorable in a way, it was puppy love. (*puppy love is when two people like each other but are too shy to say it, so they're super shy around each other and show hints that they have crushes on each other. The innocent/cute type of love.)

"Hff al7een shasawe?" Jarra7 sounded serious.

"I'm having girl problems myself, I'm not the one to ask." I replied seriously, my playfulness melting away. I turned to look at Layal again but I couldn't see her anymore, she wasn't in the window's view, her friend was.

"It's obvious with you too, you know." Jarra7 said in a hushed tone.

"Ha?!" I quickly turned my head and faced him.

"You and Layal." Jarra7 hid his smile.

"Shfeena?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Don't act stupid, everyone knows." Jarra7 laughed this time, it was his turn to tease me.

"There's nothing to know." I replied in an annoyed tone. Who is he to talk?

"Sure sure." Jarra7 grinned.

"Go back to work." I wanted to end the subject as soon as possible.

"Who made you manager?" Jarra7 kept laughing, loving the awkward position I was put into.

"Agoul, chub zain? I have work to do." I said in a fake serious tone just so I could walk off to the cashier machine, outside the kitchen, Jarra7 wouldn't stop laughing.

But whilst I was on my way to the cashier, I stopped on my track and decided to turn around and go back into the locker room. I unlocked my locker and got out my drawing pad that I brought with me everywhere. You don't know when inspiration kicked in and you were ready to draw.

I picked up a pencil from the pockets of my jacket and started to trace two simple circles over the paper. After that, I started sketching the shapes properly with the tips of my pencil, shading the sides and filling the little images with details.

I did it pretty fast, I knew Ferro, our manager, would check on us every few minutes to see if we were working or not so I didn't have much time to spare. I didn't have any colours with me but I showed off the different colours in the image by darkening the grey tones where the sides would be more darker and making the tones light when there were more colour.

Once I was done, I ripped the paper and looked at the drawing.

I successfully drew Layal's eyes, it was the same almond shape and you could clearly see the different splashes of colour and tones in her eyes. I folded the image up into little squares and walked up to Layal's locker.

I was slipping the paper in between the spaces of the locker, my back facing the door of the locker room.

A voice startled me, as if it came out of nowhere.

"What are you doing?"

I'M SORRY. - READ THIS.

 Perfect example of "don't judge a book by it's cover"> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mXu9qgIqGU&feature=related

This isn't a story post or a poem or any of my other writing projects, it's just words I hope EVERYONE would read. Even if you're a saint, even if you're a jerk, or someone who simply doesn't care, you still should read this. It may be boring to some of you but after seeing actions from certain people, I knew I had to write this and send this message. This blog isn't just a place where I can write my stories, it's where I can express myself and if you can't handle my opinions then don't read them.

Okay, first, I am NOT perfect, I have my own mistakes and I'm still learning how to become a better person, so when you read my words, I am not telling anyone I'm the perfect saint who never did anything wrong. We humans, are not perfect.

I'm still young but 16 years is enough to see the behaviours of people, especially when you're around them all the time. People don't realise the power of words until they see the after effect. Calling someone fat? Yeah okay, they might not be a size 0 but do you realise how much you've hurt the person? How much the ONE word "fat" can affect them? How about, "you're ugly, you think people like you but no one actually does." Do you realise how these simple words could send someone into depression? It's that serious, don't think "no way, that's just over exaggerating it." Because depression starts at one point and anything small as this may trigger it, especially when these words come from one of your own friends.

People (not saying ALL of you think this way) think it's okay to throw around these words, never thinking about what they're doing to others. Maybe these people deserve the mean comments, maybe they're not nice themselves but would you stoop down to their levels and bully them back?  And then, making fun of what they don't have? So what if they don't have the latest bag or the latest jewels, all of these materialistic things are NOTHING. We are stripped of EVERYTHING on judgement day, riches doesn't define a person, their morals do. One day you could have all the riches in the world but remember, the next day, God can take all of those riches away from you.

I'm not writing this because someone bullied or was mean to me, I was just a person who watched this happen and I was beyond shocked. I realised how many times this had happened, how many times I've watched it happen and tried stopping it, yet it doesn't ever stop, its this never ending cycle, people hurting others, misusing their words. I'm the type of person who can't stay quiet when someone is mistreating another or is doing something wrong, I just can't ignore it and move on, because ignoring it won't solve this.

Our own religion doesn't allow this, how can you? As I said, I am not the perfect saint, I've had my own mistakes but I don't regret them, I believe our mistakes make us who we are today, mistakes happen to teach us lessons. But doing the same mistake over and over again? Where's the lesson taught if you keep continuing doing wrong and hurting people?

That person who you may be calling ugly, anorexic, fat or unwanted (and these are just a FEW examples of the words I hear these days), may be going on diets, using different kinds of pills to become thinner or even fatter, trying to think of plastic surgery, even thinking of suicide. You never know what a person's going through until you TRY to put yourselves in their shoes, do people choose to be this way? God created them this way and I believe God created them beautifully, it's not about how we look on the outside, our looks wither away in time, wrinkles will replace our flawless skins and all we'll have left in the end is our personality, actions and souls. And that's what God judges all of us on, our actions.

So before you go to a person, throwing your hateful words at them, I don't care if you two fought, I don't care if you two hate each other to bits, NO ONE deserves to feel worthless or unwanted in this world, you have been created to live and enjoy the life God gave you, you weren't created to be treated like trash by others and accept this as a way of life.

And by the way, celebrities are people too, they have feelings, they get hurt just like us, would you want to be treated that way? Ask yourself that question whenever you speak to someone, would YOU want someone to call you worthless and disgusting behind your back? Speak about someone how you want be spoken about, put yourselves in their shoes, don't judge them. It's hard not to judge, you can judge a person even when you're not doing it on purpose but try your best not to. Just because others may have different beliefs or different kinds of lives, does not give you the right to not accept them as humans and disrespect them. We were raised better than is.

I apologise to anyone who has felt this way because of me at one time, I may have done my own mistakes when I was younger but I believe you have to be the change you want to see in this world. And to this day, I am still shocked of the words I read/hear everyday, hateful ones that are being sent to the people I love and care about.

Again, sorry for anything I've done. I don't believe I've hurt a person this way but who knows? Like I said, I'm not a perfect saint and anything's possible, people hide their feelings so well these days, you just don't know who you're affecting or hurting anymore.

I'm sorry, to every person I may have hurt in the past.

And for the people who feel this way everyday.

You're not alone, you are one of a kind and don't ever think you're worthless. You were created the way you are for a reason, don't ever change yourself for others. Society will never be pleased and you shouldn't try pleasing them, they're not the people who will be judging you on judgement day. God's opinion is the only opinion you should care about.

Thanks for reading this, I had to write this and I had to get a point across, this wasn't written to offend anyone, and if it did, then I apologise but everyone's entitled to their own opinions.

Le Chase Chapter 13

Akhh this is the first chapter I write as not an Anonymous writer. \o/! THANK YOU for letting me write on my own free time, not pressuring me, you all have been so kind to me, I am so blessed, el7amdellah!

If you find any mistakes, don't be shy about telling me, I didn't check over the post. x:

-

Previously in Chapter 12:

@LayalAlX: You remind me of this guy I work with.. the descriptions in your blog, it's just like him. But unlike you, he's more of a total jerk."

Ouch.

I remembered how mean I was to her when my father angered me earlier today but for some reason, it still hurt to hear her say that.

I decided to ignore her DM for now, I couldn't muster up a reply to that. Bdour tried keeping our conversation alive and continued DMing me, by saying:

"@BdourAlX: what will it take to know who u are? I have a feeling I know u.."

"*****: I'm anonymous."

"@BdourAlX: please? I'll do anything.."

Anything?
 

-



It's been 2 long days, my nostrils were now used to the dusty smell of 3abbas's diwaneya, my back not so happy with the stiff couches I've been sleeping on for two nights. But the time away from the house relaxed me, I didn't have to worry about anyone, just for these two days.


Today, I had to go back. I promised Wath7a I'd be gone for a few days and nothing more. I've avoided talking to Layal or Bdour on my blog account, I still didn't know what to do with the Layal problem, with her thinking I was a jerk and how Bdour was begging me to reveal my identity to her.


The word "anything" attracted me, but what did I want from a girl? Nothing, she was no use to me. For now.

"Akeed ma tabe tig3ad 3ndena akthar?" 3abbas asked me, his charcoal eyes watching me as I messily grabbed my pieces of clothes, digging it into my ash grey duffel bag.

"La2 ma ga9ert m3ay, mashkour." I gave 3abbas an easy smile, zipping my duffel bag shut once I was done packing.

"Don't mention it." He patted my back with his large hand, making me want to topple over for a second but I held my weight, 3abbas was double my size, he had gigantic looking muscles and the gym was his addiction, but my height was a few inches taller than his.

I told him to thank his parents for letting me stay over before I exited the diwaneya, passing the luxurious gardens of his house and finally settling in the Ferrari sports car I managed to steal from my Dad.

I didn't bother calling Mom or my little sister Wath7a, I simply just showed up. I handled my speed with care this time, letting music vibrate out of the sound system as I drove out of 3abbas's block and made my way into ours.

 I parked the car in the familiar parking space outside our house. True, it had been just 2 days but it felt like weeks to me, I was so used to the comfort of the soft sheets of my bed and the familiar smell of different Arabian dishes in the kitchen, and of course, Jenny's non stop chatting that always made me laugh.

It was 2:15pm, usually the time Wath7a would be home from school and the time we'd sit down for lunch. Also, the usual time where my father would most likely not be home. The sun was beating against my vested back, the wind cooling off my skin whilst I stood in front of our mahogany door, not knowing what to do.

Should I knock?

La2 wein ga3deen? America?

I swiped a finger over our velvet coloured doorbell, hearing the sound of bells chime inside our house. In a few minutes, Jenny pulled the door open, her face was pale and she looked startled by me.

"T-thari, y-you back?" She stuttered, her usually neatly bun-ed hair was in a messed up ponytail.

"Uhm, it is my house?" I answered her, my lips parting slightly from confusion.

"Yes yes of course, sorry." Jenny nervously replied, moving away so I could take a step inside. I was about to ask her what was wrong but when I turned to the left, I saw exactly what was wrong.

You see, once you enter our house, you can get the clear view of the living room to your right but to your left, you can see the wide dining room which is attached to another room with a large arch open door, leading to the kitchen.

What I saw you ask? I saw my father, his second wife, my little sister and mother, all seated on one table, their expressions were blank and they picked at their lunch with their forks silently. My mother sat closest to my sister, leaving my father to sit next to his wife. All heads shot up, their eyes staring at me gaping mouth as I stared at them.

"Thari! Radeit!" My mother said in an ecstatic tone.

"Uhm.." I mumbled, still in shock of this scene. Wath7a looked vulnerable, being in the middle of this crude image.

"T3al eg3ad, shfeek wagif chithe?" My father barked at me, his eyes not meeting mine. His second wife, what was her name again? Heba? Or was it stupid lying filthy low life-okay seriously stop it Thari.

"Enshallah." I surrendered, dropping my duffel bag to the floor and walking to over to the dining room, sitting besides my sister, which was furthest away from my father and his wife.

"Sh9ayer?" Wath7a hissed over to me as Jenny grabbed another beautifully designed plate, putting it in front of me. We usually used the regular ones, we only used these beautiful looking ones for special occasions, I didn't understand how this was a special occasion?

"You tell me." I hissed back at Wath7a, she was in her plain private uniform, her hair up in a ponytail and her eyes looking tired from the long morning she probably had. I skipped university for the last two days, I knew I was going to regret it but I couldn't deal with seeing more people.

The meal was quiet, painfully quiet. No one said a word, the only thing I could hear was that annoying woman's munching. I didn't know eating rice was so noisy, until today.

I forced down the food, my tongue feeling metallic, my taste buds not up to tasting anything. I wanted to keep my mouth full, I didn't want to be the one to start the conversation. After lunch was done, I finally was able to escape the dining table with my mom and sister.

My father was a slow eater, he remained at the dining table with Her. Yes, I am totally not saying that woman's name, as of today, I'm referring her as Her.

"What are they doing here?!" I finally got to speak, we were in the living room, my mother seated in front of me and my sister was right next to me.

"Eee! Shyaboun hathoula?!" Wath7a backed me up, her voice echoing around the whole house.

"Wa6ay 9outech!" My mom ordered, her eyes on Wath7a. I felt my sister creep behind me, hiding away slowly.

"Enshallah." Wath7a whispered.

"They're staying with us, she's your father's wife, you have to respect her." The words that slipped out of my mother's mouth astonished me.

"Mu men 9ijech, 9a7?" I was ready to stand up and stalk out of the living room but my mother placed a cool hand over my wrist, keeping me seated.

"He wants another son. W ana kibert, ma agder ayeeb 3yal." Mom's voice seemed more sensitive now, her eyes begging me to understand. Her words hurt me for some reason, I shouldn't care but sadly I did, I was the eldest and I didn't see why he wanted another son. Did he want to replace me? It sure felt that way.

"Divorce him." I shocked myself with my own words, but I knew I wanted the divorce.

"Thari it isn't against our religion for a man to marry more than one wife, he's allowed to have four, why would I divorce him?" My mother's words didn't reach her eyes, she was stating a rule but I knew for sure she didn't like this situation at all.

"Because you're not happy." I replied bluntly, my mother turned her head, not facing me anymore, that meant she was closing the subject.

"Wath7a rou7ay ghayray malabsich, don't you have homework?" Mom said in an emotionless tone.

"Enshallah." Wath7a said once again but I saw the sadness that casted through her eyes before she walked off, going upstairs to change and start on her homework.

I wasn't going to win this argument, I decided to leave and let my mother be alone, she was deep in thought, her eyes staring off into space.

I was back in my room, on my so comfortable bed with my Macbook flipped open. I had to check my emails since the university usually sends me warnings, this time, it was a warning about my absences. I groaned in annoyance, I was about to shut off my Macbook but my twitter app starting hopping around on my dashboard, meaning I got a DM or a mention.

I clicked on twitter and found a new DM from Bdour.

"@BdourAlX: weinik?:p"

Hmm. I scratched the back of my head, should I answer or ignore? I could be bipolar sometimes, I'd talk to people as if I was myself then ignore them for no reason when I was sick of people. Yeah, I could be strange, I wasn't readable.

I decided to reply.

"@*******: Kane."

She replied instantly, as if she was waiting for me.

"@BdourAlX: ha.. are you gonna tell me who you are or..?"

"@*******: Too early."

"@BdourAlX: never too early.."

"@******: Tara mu 8a9eb t3rfeen. :s"

"@BdourAlX: bas abe a3arif!"

7anna! 

I ignored her, even her good looks couldn't change my mind. Again, I was about to sign out but Layal decided to DM me, my frustration and anger melted away at the sight of her username.

"@LayalAlX: Can I get a guy's advice on something?"

"@******: Sure. :p?"

"@LayalAlX: If a guy's mean to you, does it mean he likes you? I know this is kind of like kindergarden all over again but I need an honest opinion."

Was this about me? I wasn't so sure, my jealousy kicked in when I realized that she could be talking about any guy right now.

"@*****: Probably likes you.."

"@LayalAlX: Mm.. okay thanks."

"@*****: No problem."

Weird. I waited for her to dm me again, maybe ask more questions but she didn't.

I finally decided to sign out, my shift at Chocolate Bar was going to start soon, this time, I had an afternoon shift.

I managed to escape the house without running to anyone and drive as fast as I could to Chocolate Bar once I was in my hoodie and shorts, it was a bad combo but I felt hot and cold at the same time, a feeling I enjoyed.

"You're late." Ferro, the manager hissed once I walked in the cake smelling cafe.

"I know." I snapped back at him, grabbing an apron and a name tag before heading right into the kitchen. The first thing I saw was Farah's face, the girl who made up lies about Layal being engaged. I was not in the mood for her.

She noticed me straight away, her hair was up in a bun and her eyes glazed over me.

"Thari!" She chirped happily, not bothering to remember that she lied to me days ago.

"Ahlain." I replied, not meeting her eyes. I gave her my back, getting straight down to work. Layal was by the cashier, her mesmerizing eyes followed me but she didn't utter a word.

"Shfeek?" Farah inched up closer to me, trying to grab my attention.

Hathe mu men 9ejha 9a7?

"I'm busy." I avoided her, keeping my eyes on the cake in front of me.

"Uhm okay?" Farah rolled her eyes, leaving my side.

I couldn't stop thinking about my family's situation, as well as what Layal said about me being a jerk. I just had a gut feeling that it was about me. I tore off a paper from Ferro's pad, which was on the counter. I grabbed a random pen and wrote a little note.


"I'm sorry Layal. Forgive me?" 

Bits of icing was smeared over the note but I didn't care, I folded it into little squares and sneaked my way into the locker room, where the workers kept their clothes and belongings.

It was a little dusty in the locker room and there was only one little bulb twitching over us that granted us light but I knew for sure that Layal's locker was number 15. I caught her using it once when I was trying to get my jacket out of mine.

There was a little gap in the steel lockers, I looked around me just to be sure no one was watching, I quickly slipped the note in Layal's locker and escaped the room just in time.

But what I found when I left the room, forced me to freeze in my spot in shock.

"Ebrahim! Shitsawe ehny?" Layal's voice was loud, there was a glass thing over one of the doors so I could see there was a tall looking guy, with the same skin and nose as Layal's, he was peeking around the cafe, looking suspicious.

"Bas gelt I'd visit you." Ebrahim, Layal's brother, the brother I was supposed to know, shrugged.

I was busted.
 

Monster.

Black.

Black surrounded me. Behind me, in front of me, hugging and embracing me in the darkness. The harsh iron chains eat at my skin, trapping me in the little room. All I could feel is the thin mattress under me, securing me in my place as it creaked every once in a while whenever I moved, screaming in agony because of my weight.

Click.

My head shoots up immediately but I can't see anything. A soft piece of fabric is wrapped around my fearful eyes, blinding me of the images that were standing in front of me. A ray of light cascades over me, I can feel the soft touch, the hints of my escape, calling out to me, trying to save me.

"Here he is." A rumbling deep voice called out. The smell of dirty yet fresh tobacco slither up my nostrils, tickling my lungs, causing a cough to echo around the room.

"Ah good, he looks fit and ready." There was another voice. This male voice, it caused a horrid sense of fear to vibrate along my body. My legs tensed up, my callouses were sweating and my heart's cries fill my ears. "Get him dressed."

And with that, the loud clang! flew into my ears, indicating the door was shut in a hurry.

Tap, tap, tap.

A pair of shoes tip toed closer to where I was, I could sense the change of atmosphere, it felt heavier. Warmer. Someone was getting closer. I held my fear in, I had to keep my dignity, I was a man. I could withstand anything that was coming. I inched my fingers closer, to anything, anything sharp, anything that resembled an object.

My fingers flailed around, touching the wet ground, my finger nails scraping over the hard floor. Nothing, nothing was close to my reach. The solid wall behind me was the only thing that kept me up straight, kept me from laying back down in defeat.

A huff of smoke was slapped against my face, the deadly chemicals filling up my lungs, causing me to cough once again. An evil chuckle was heard, telling me this person was male. Chubby fingers full of fat tore away the clothes off of my body, the fabric of my clothes screeching out as it was being ripped.

Every wave of coldness hits my naked skin, goosebumps sprouted out of my shivering skin as I sat on the floor, half naked. Those hands, they were harsh. They pulled a softer fabric around me, it felt like silicone, it glided easily over my freezing bare skin. I groaned in response, I was being pushed around, turned around, being dressed in a strange fabric, as if I was a doll to play with.

"Heavy kid, you are." His accent had hints of a Texan accent that reminded me of cowboys and spicy chicken wings, it made my mouth water and my stomach growl with hungriness. I was starving.

"H-hey what are you going boy?!" The voice sounded in full alert, full of fright and his body was backing away from mine, his hands dropping, letting go of the fabric.

What was going on?

I was about to ask where I was, why the man was so scared but a pain filled my mouth, back and bare legs. I couldn't see, I was still in the deep dark illusion that the blind fold gave me but every part of me felt as if it was growing, growing bigger by the second, growing stronger.

"Dakota! Open the door!" Two locks jiggled around, hitting the metal door as nervous fingers tried to slide the key in and turn it around. "Faster!"

Pounds of pain hit my head, punching it every few seconds, causing me to yell out in fury. Deep inside my head, I was confused on what was going on but the effect was taking over me, clouding my brain and causing my body to take action.

I felt my hands grab the back of the person's hair, his hair was oily and slick, easy to pull out. His skin, felt like clay in my fingers, my finger nails slicing inside, swirling around before tearing it off of his body. A hot liquid was oozing out of him as his yells muted the sounds of my actions, drenching me in his own blood.


What was I doing? Michael stop it.


"Perry, he killed Dakota!" A new voice introduced itself, a higher pitched one. My mouth hung open, ready to ask what was wrong, why I couldn't control myself but I started to feel dizzy.

A wave of nausea trickled over me for the first few seconds before it really hit me. The voices drowned out, all I heard were screams and all I felt were a pair of hands, trying to trap me in my place before I became numb.

 The next time I felt something, was when my body was touching every cold bit of the hard floor. My wrists weren't sore anymore, they felt free and there wasn't any piece of metal grinding against my skin anymore.

My eyelids slowly fluttered before fully opening, my eyelashes feeling wet and weak. My limbs were shaking, tiredness and exhaustion was all I could feel. The bright lights blinded me for a moment, the room surprised me. It was the opposite of dark, blue bulbs surrounded me, shooting it's rays of light right at me and what astonished me even further, were laying right besides me.

Numerous bodies were laying next to me, each one drenched in their own blood, their skin torn off and a few of their limbs were de-attached, lying next to them, just as lifeless as their bodies. The image horrified me, I quickly got off of the ground, checking for wounds or scars on my skin. The eery silence was everywhere, with only my own healthy beating heart that kept me company.

I was clean, dressed in a silicone bodysuit that was half way zipped and was smeared with wine coloured blood. I wreaked of death, the stench of it disgusted me. The mirror in front of me gave me an image of myself, one 6'1 regular looking guy with shaggy brown hair, plain hazel eyes and was stained with blood.

But that wasn't what stole my attention.

It was what was written on the mirror, it was a messy handwriting, that resembled my own. The words were swiped with a finger, with blood. And it said:

"Monster."

Murderer.

“You better keep quiet about this, do you hear me? Or else you’ll be next.” His fingers tightened around my neck and I winced once I felt his fingernails dig into my skin, scraping it harshly.

“Yes,” I choke, tears filling my eyes once I risk a glance at my father's lifeless body sprawled on the cold hard floor. Blood is dripping out of his wound while his breathing is slowing down by the second, indicating his few last minutes of life.

I tap my foot nervously while I look around at my surroundings, the stench of sweat and fear tickle my nostrils. I lower my eyes down to my red sneakers trying to avoid eye contact with any of the people in the grey and dull room. My shirt’s neckline begins to feel itchy against the scarlet bruise on the side of my neck.

“Hannah Geralds?” A feminine voice calls, my eyes shoot up in alarm but quickly soften once I notice my name was being called from the young woman with sparkling blue eyes and nutty mahogany hair behind the desk.

“Yes?” I squeak but quickly cough to hide the fright in my voice.

Excruciating pain fills through my body once he pushes me against the wall. My back grinds against the wallpaper before I slide back down to the icy floor, my bare legs covering themselves with goosebumps. I attempt to crawl further away and closer to the pale house phone but his bloodshot eyes stare right through me, making my hands inch away from my only escape. He smirks once he notices my body tremble, his hands wrap around the knife and uses the tip of the blade to stroke my fathers cheek. He watches me, enjoying every second of my fear.

“Please! No!” My own voice wasn’t audible with my fathers screams, I bury my head into my legs pressing my hands against my ears trying to mute my fathers painful cries.

After long agonizing minutes, I could only hear my own heavy breathing from my raspy throat. I slowly lift my head out of my legs and stare at the bloody wooden floor. I look around the empty room and a photo on the floor catches my eye. I reach my shaky hand out picking it up and I automatically brush away the drops of blood, I stare quietly at the two people in the photo. 

My father had his arms around me pulling me closer for a friendly embrace, I happily smiled at the person behind the camera, the person who was also the murderer to my fathers death. I can hear my own heart hammering against my rib cage once I hear the distant sound of a shovel in my backyard.

“So Hannah, what can I do for you today?” A gentle voice brought me back to the painful reality.

My eyes are suddenly blinded by the bright rays of sunlight coming from the window. Hints of coffee and chocolate donuts fill my nostrils, I quickly look up meeting my emerald eyes with the bald man's friendly grey ones. I was now in an office, surrounded by hundreds of books and files neatly stacked.

“I’d like to report a crime,” droplets of sweat form on my forehead once I notice Officer James’ smile vanish.

“And on who would you like to report a crime on?” Officer James' eyes crinkle for a second, his wrinkles forming around his tired sorrowful eyes.

I stare into Officer James’ eyes trying to calm down my own breathing, I can feel my own chest relax once I hear my own silenced words escape my mouth.

“My brother.”

Le Chase Chapter 12

-

"Zaid?" My mother's voice echoed through the whole house.

"3aysha.." My father stuttered. The woman besides him looked confident, her grin was plastered against her plastic face.

"Ma tisti7y etyeebha ehny!? Jidam Thari w Wath7a?!" My mother wasn't so gentle anymore, she screamed her words at my father, leaving me utterly shocked.

What? She wasn't shocked by his affair?

Did she know about this all along?!

"Yuma, shnu!?" I turned around to face my mother, my expression full of hurt. My mother faced me, noticing that I was suddenly here, hearing every word.

"Uhm. Thari.." My mother was speechless for a second.

"Kentay t3rfeen? About that wh*re?" I asked my mother, my voice barely heard.

"Thari kalem 3adel! Hathe murty!" My father yelled at me, his voice full of fury. He took a step towards me, ready to strike but my mother stood in front of me, protecting me.

Murt obouy? He had two wives all along? All this time? And he never told us?

And my mom knew about this?

"Wow." I breathed out, I felt 3 pairs of eyes on me. My mother's, father's and his "wife's". They were waiting for me to speak, to say something but I couldn't utter another word.

I was in absolute shock.

So first my sister created a blog to hate on me. And now this? I just got around to getting over the blog thing, why did this have to happen too?

And I just couldn't believe the fact that my own mother kept this from us for years. All I could think of now was my little sister, she would be devastated, even more than I was.

"Thari." My mother pleaded with her eyes, she was facing me again and she was trying to get to me. I tore my eyes away from her, I couldn't look at her. I understood she must have faced so much pain because of this but I would have helped her, if she only told me. I wasn't a kid anymore, I was a man.

"Don't tell Wath7a, or I'll leave this sh*tty house." I couldn't control my tongue or attitude. My father seemed even more angry, he opened his mouth to shout out a few more words at me but my mother held up a hand to silence him.

"6el3aw bara." My mother said in a stern voice, her eyes on my father and his second wife.

"Hatha baiti!" My father snapped at her.

"W al7een baiti ana b3ad." My father's wife purred in her snotty voice.

"Shrayik anady Wath7a b3ad Zaid?" My mother said in a pained voice, causing my father to take a step back. Wath7a was his youngest, he would always spoil her with gifts and she would always accept them with wide open arms. He stopped spoiling me once he understood that gifts couldn't change my hatred for him, so hurting Wath7a, was more important to him than hurting me or my own mother.

My father turned back around, leaving the house with his wife. She shot us a dirty look before following him out.

"Thari, wein raye7?!" My mother yelled after me when she noticed I was walking away from her.

"Far away from all of you." I yelled back at her, my voice full of pain. I shut the door of my room with a loud bang, muting all the words that escaped my mother's lips.

I couldn't handle any more lies, I didn't want to know why my father needed a second wife, I didn't want to know anything. I didn't feel a part of this family anymore, I didn't feel like I had a father or a mother that trusted me. And most of all, my pain went out for my little sister, who was still naive and innocent, thinking our family was as flawless as a picture perfect image.

I grabbed a duffel bag out of my wooden wardrobe, filling it with a bunch of random clothes. I dialed 3abbas's number as I was trying to stuff my Macbook into the grey duffel bag.

"Halla walla." 3abbas's voice joyfully cheered.

"3abbas, 3ade anam 3ndekom 7ag chem youm? Bel diwaneya?" I asked in an emotionless tone. He was one of my oldest friends and he understood that I only asked to stay over at his place when something was wrong.

"Ee akeed, 7ayak Allah. Ana al7een ga3d bl diwaneya wya Jarra7 ely yishtighl m3ak." 3abbas sounded a bit worried but he covered it up. He mentioned Jarra7 as a way to say "I'm not alone to ask you what's wrong."

"Mashkour." I said before hanging up on him. Before I left the house, I decided to check on Wath7a. I knocked on her door a couple of times, ever since she became a teenager, I couldn't just barge into her room.

"Come in!" She chirped normally. A wash of relief swam over me, she hadn't heard anything from the fight and she sounded just fine. I entered her bright room, my fingers grasping the duffel bag. I had a hoodie over my sleeveless shirt but I was too lazy to change out of my shorts, I didn't mind the chilly weather.

"Wein rayi7 Thari?" Wath7a's eyes were full of worry once she saw me, standing in her room.

"I'm going to stay at a friend's for a few days, guy stuff. Bas tabeen shay gabel ma arou7?" I always did this whenever I decided to leave the house for a few days and usually, Wath7a never asked why. She knew I wouldn't answer if she did.

"Last time you said that, you were gone for two weeks." Wath7a kept her head down, her fingers tick tacking against her blackberry keyboard.

I heaved a sigh, my confident posture drooping low. The last time I left, was when I had a huge fight with my Dad. It was over something so petty, he got annoyed that I kept leaving the house and I basically told him he had no right to even care when he barely was at our house.

"Hal mara, barid b3ad chem youm. Not one week, okay?" I dropped the duffel bag and sat besides my sister on her bed, wrapping an arm around her. She was so small besides me, she was a complete shorty, just like my mother. She had my mother's pure eyes, full of innocence and hints of sadness.

"Thari tara ana mu yahel, I know there's something wrong with Dad." Wath7a's words startled me. She might be a kid compared to me but she caught up pretty fast, this was the first time she ever spoke about our problems. She usually acts as if she didn't know anything, since we usually shut her out of everything.

"Entay al7een estansay, 6el3ay wya uhm, what's your friend's name?" I tried changing the subject, forcing my voice to be more playful.

"Tala." Wath7a laughed at me.

"Eee, Tala. I knew that." I grinned. "Yalla al7een lazem arou7."

"Okay." Wath7a's frowned, hugging my sides softly before letting me let go of her.

"Deeray balich 3la nafsich, okay? Walla ma ra7 a6awel hal mara." I promised her with a smile, my fingers holding onto the rough material of the duffel bag.

"Enshallah." Wath7a nodded, trying to be positive. I shut the door behind me gently and tried to hurry as fast as I could with leaving the house. This time, I used the back door to avoid my mother. A part of me regretted lashing out at her, when I knew how hard it was having to keep this secret.

But the other part of me, the bigger part, felt like a betrayed child.

I managed to steal my Dad's Ferrari keys, he barely used the car and so, I got the chance to drive it. When I was most bothered, the speed helped calm me down.

As I was driving, the tires gliding over the grey roads of Kuwait, I checked my twitter. I decided to start the conversation with Layal this time, I dmed her once again and said:

"@*****: Hey;p su2al, where can I get the yummiest cakes?"

I was being too obvious with this but I desperately wanted her to reply. Layal was my best distraction from everything. After 6 dreadful minutes, she replied with:

"@LayalAlX: There's so many places offh! Chocolate Bar will be the best place."

3abbas's house wasn't close to ours, so I used twitter to entertain myself as I drove.

"@*****: 9ej?:p 3yal 3a6eene el list."

This time, Layal replied faster.

"@LayalAlX: Mu men 9ijik! ::"

Smilies! This is getting better.

"@*****: Embala, yalla. :p"

"@LayalAlX: Fee shay esma google. Ever heard of it?"

"@*****: Unfortunately, no."

"@LayalAlX: Ask someone else. -.-"

"@*****: I want to ask you though?:p"

"@LayalAlX: Mm."

"@*****: M&ms wla Cadbury?"

Thari, you're so lame..

I rubbed the back of my neck, not believing how lame I had become. This time, my conscience was totally right.

I finally parked the car in front of 3abbas's house. It was large estate, with a huge stretch of land that surrounded the orange painted house. Trees were spritzed around and there was a bubbling fountain in the middle of their garden. The diwaneya was an orange building attached to the house and only had one floor, whereas the house had 2 floors.

I parked the car by the curb, right next to 3abbas's car before making my way to the diwaneya, my feet digging deep into the freshly cut grass. The scent of winter filled my nostrils, the wind hitting the back of my bare legs, making me shiver.

I finally got to the entrance of the diwaneya after passing the trees and flowers that 3abbas's mother loved to grow and tend to. His mother was half British, she was not the typical Kuwaiti mom at all.

"Ahlaain!" 3abbas cheered once I entered the warm diwaneya. Inside, there was a plasma TV with the PS3, Xbox and Wii attached to it. Multiple disks of DVDs and games were sprawled over the designed carpet. There were couches glued to the walls, the place was shaped in a square and 3abbas was sitting furthest away from the TV whilst Jarra7 was on the floor, his head glued to the TV, playing FIFA.

I greeted 3abbas and waved at Jarra7, he was too engrossed into his game.

"Shlounik?" 3abbas asked me in a quiet tone once I was sitting besides him, my duffel bag resting right besides me.

"El7amdellah zein, enta?" I asked casually, watching Jarra7 totally miss a goal in the game. He yelled out in defeat and continued playing.

"Tamam, sh9ayer Thari?" 3abbas nudged my shoulder, his dark eyes inspecting me. "Obouk?"

"Shay chithe." I didn't go into detail, I wanted to be vague. I wasn't ready to discuss what just happened, my father cared too much about our reputation and always reminded us never to tell anyone anything about our problems. We always had to be picture perfect in front of everyone but I wasn't scared to show our flaws to 3abbas, I trusted him the most and he was the only one who knew what happened in that imperfect house.

"Tell me about it when you feel like it." When 3abbas spoke English, he had a trace of a British accent that all the girls go all goo-goo over.

"Enshallah." I nodded, taking out my Samsung and checking twitter again. Layal replied to my message.

"@LayalAlX: LOL that actually made me laugh, surprisingly."

I liked a girl with humor.

"@******: Doum enshallah haha;p"

"@LayalAlX: Wyak. You kind of remind me of someone."

I was about to reply to her but then, I received another DM from a girl I didn't know.

"@BdourAlX: hey wayed 7abeit ur posts, leish shilt'hom:(?"

"@*******: Bs:p there will be a new story."

This girl looked familiar. I clicked on her avatar to see a close up of her. She had tanned skin and jet black hair that framed her heart shaped face. She wasn't smiling in the picture, she was looking to the left, with her iPhone in her hand. She looked distracted and someone must have taken the photo of her by accident, her nose was straight, thin lips and thickly mascara-ed eyes.

I checked her bio and I finally realised why she was so familiar. She went to the same university as me, she was in one of my classes.

She was also my old crush in high school, before I ever met Manal.

She looked so different, I didn't think that she'd be THAT Bdour. I was amused by the idea that she read my blog.

"@BdourAlX: oh ok:( tara wayed 7abeit shakh9eetik, mashallah 3leek;p"

Hmm. I left the DM and didn't reply to it, I showed 3abbas her picture.

"Remember her?" I asked 3abbas, his eyes glazed over her picture. He definitely liked what he saw.

"A77 hathe Bdour?! M7lwa mashallah!" 3abbas grinned.

"T9adig she goes to our university? She's in my calculus class." I said in an amazed voice, how couldn't I have spotted her before?

"Bel 9oura shekilha ghair, shift'ha chem mara gabel. Ehya g9eera w ma 3ndeha tan." 3abbas chuckled.

"Photoshop?" I rolled my eyes, mocking the girls these days.

"La2 la2, el9ara7a ehya a7la bel 9ej." 3abbas shrugged.

"Oh." I bite my lip, thinking for a second.

"Laish?" 3abbas gave me this look that said "are you interested in her?"

"La2 wla shay, bas ga3d as2al." I stared at her picture for a moment longer before replying to her message.

"@******: Shukran. :p"

She replied in an instant.

"@BdourAlX: enta 18 mu 9a7?:p which uni do u go to?"

"@******: Personal question. :p"

"@BdourAlX: yallaaa 3aaaaaad;p"

"@******: I go to yours."

"@BdourAlX: NO WAY! kel el 9bayan in our uni hailaag!:s"

"@*****: Y3ne ana hailag?:p Mashe Bdour."

"@BdourAlX: la2 la2 8a9dy I'm surprised u go to our uni, bas:p ma hageit a good guy like u would be here"

"@*****: Aha.. :p"

For Bdour, it was easy to act as if I was "thgeel", whereas with Layal.. it was a whole different story. I switched conversations and replied to Layal's message:

"@*******: Who do I remind you of?"

"3abbas, Mama Fadwa ask me to ask your friends what they want to eat." A kind petite housekeeper dressed in white walked in, her dark Somalia skin gave her a little glow.

"Taboun takloun shay?" 3abbas asked us whilst trying to adjust his casual A&F hoodie.

"La2 I just ate, thanks." I gave him a polite smile.

"Jarra7?" 3abbas asked. Jarra7 was too busy playing FIFA to reply.

"I guess he's not hungry either?" I said whilst chuckling.

"Thanks Ranny." 3abbas said to the housekeeper, giving her the cue to leave.

The little alert that came out of my Samsung ringed through my ears, indicating that I had a new DM on twitter.

I clicked on twitter again and read the following DM from Layal.

"@LayalAlX: You remind me of this guy I work with.. the descriptions in your blog, it's just like him. But unlike you, he's more of a total jerk."

Ouch.

I remembered how mean I was to her when my father angered me earlier today but for some reason, it still hurt to hear her say that.

I decided to ignore her DM for now, I couldn't muster up a reply to that. Bdour tried keeping our conversation alive and continued DMing me, by saying:

"@BdourAlX: what will it take to know who u are? I have a feeling I know u.."

"*****: I'm anonymous."

"@BdourAlX: please? I'll do anything.."

Anything?

Le Chase Chapter 11

 This is a longer post than the last one, hope you enjoy it. :D

Feedback: @vieblogue
www.ask.fm/vieblogue

-

"Wath7a.. w-what.." I couldn't find the words, I was muttering. I was in utter shock. Wath7a stared off to the distance, unable to speak either.

I decided to do something else.

I picked up Wath7a's phone again, ignoring her pleading eyes. I clicked on Manal's number and dialed it. I waited impatiently, listening to the "6oo6 6oo6 6oo6", my foot tapping against the rugged floor of Wath7a's bedroom.

"Wathou7, ra7 Thari?" Manal's voice ringed into my ears, leaving the phone. Her voice didn't change at all, it was the same voice I used to yearn for years ago. I felt my feelings rush back, leaving the small hidden locked box I trapped them in.

"La2 lal7een mawjoud ya Manal." I kept my voice steady, showing off my confidence and deeper voice I had now.

I heard Manal gasp on the other end of the phone before she stuttered, "T-t-thari?"

"Who else?" I replied coldly.

"You're the blogger, aren't you? Mu kafi ely feene ya Manal?" I threw my words at her like knives, not bothering to wait for her to talk first. I sounded harsh.

"Thari what are you talking about?" Manal's voice sounded confused. Clueless.

"Laish ga3da t7acheen ekhy? Shtabeen menha? Wakhray 3anha w sakray el blog!" I nearly yelled angrily into the phone, Wath7a jumped up a bit. She was startled by my frightening voice.

"Thari ana ma kitebt blog! Wla baktib!" Manal yelled back at me, her words sounding sincere.

"Manal entay el wa7eeda..." My words and frustration faded away when I suddenly realised something.

"Digeega Manal..." I suddenly pulled away from the blackberry, exiting the call without closing it and went into the calls section. Apparently Wath7a called Manal, every call was Wath7a's. Manal wasn't the one who called her. I turned around and faced my sister, she didn't look too innocent anymore. She looked like an enemy.

"Entay." I said in astonishment. "Entay kitebtay el blog, shloun... Laish..." I stuttered, unable to speak.

How did Wath7a even know about the details? How'd she ever find out that I had an ex called Manal? How'd she find her number and why would she turn the story around? What was going on?

"T-thari allah yekhaleek, la etgoul 7ag omy." Wath7a choked out her words, her eyes full of fearful tears.

"Wath7a, jawbeeny!" I snapped at her. Wath7a didn't reply, she was speechless. I decided to press the phone back up against my ear. If Wath7a wasn't going to answer me then Manal was.

"Manal, gouleeli kilashay al7een." I said in a stern voice through the phone. I heard Manal breathe nervously, she was afraid of me and I loved every second of her fear.

"Ekhtik daget 3lay w b3dain, uhm.." Manal wouldn't budge.

"Kamlay!" My anger was growing by the second.

"I lied about everything." Manal said in a hushed tone. I breathed out in relief for a second once I knew my sister wasn't the one who lied about the whole story.

"But how did she even find out about us?" I stared at Wath7a, her eyes wouldn't meet mine.

"Are you serious? All the girls know about you being a player. It wasn't hard to find out who you dated!" Wath7a's words were quiet but they were pretty harsh, even to me. "Ma tisti7y Thari? Etsawi chithe eb Manal?"

"Wath7a siktay! Entay malich sheghil feene w kalmeeny 3adil, tara ana mu wa7d men your friends etkalmeeny chithe, fahma?!" I was surprised by her sudden attitude.

"What if I did what you did, ha Thari? I'd be dead by now but just because you're doing this you think it's okay? Seriously what's with you guys? 3balkom 3ade etkalmoun bas e7na banat ma y9eer, if we look at a guy for one second we get a slap, you guys, you can do anything you want and get nothing at all!" Wath7a's eyes shot up and her eyes were venomous. "At the end of the day, this is all wrong, wether you're a guy or a girl!"

Her words were too mature for her age, where was she getting all of this from? I couldn't think of this right now, I let the bad thoughts take over me, I couldn't listen to my conscience. Not now, not when my own sister was behind the whole blog scheme.

"What are you implying on? Etkalmeen Wath7a? Mnu el 9bay?!" I couldn't think straight, thoughts were filling up my head and my words hit Wath7a back.

"Akeed la2! Check my phone, it's in your hand isn't it? Tabe el password for my twitter b3ad? I'm not the player here, you are." Wath7a gave me a disgusted look, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Wath7a I didn't lie to Manal about dying, she did that to me, it wasn't me, okay? Why am I even telling you this?" I sighed, my anger evaporating after hearing her words. My sister wasn't like me, she wasn't bound to do the things I've done, I felt guilty for accusing her.

"It wasn't?" Wath7a's fuming expression melted away and her eyes softened.

"Manal, gouleleha kilashay, w hal mara, tell her the true story." I said into the blackberry before handing it over to Wath7a.

My sister looked surprised and absolutely speechless. Suddenly, I didn't want to know how she got a hold of Manal's number. I just wanted this to be over with. I wanted this to end. I wanted my sister to look up to me, not down.

"And by the way, I've changed." I said to Wath7a before turning around to leave the room, shutting the door with a bang.

I couldn't believe it, my actions were affecting my own little sister. It grabbed my mother's attention, angered girls and gave me a bad reputation, I couldn't let this go any longer.

And I couldn't let my father play my own mother either.

Do you know when you just feel like you need to get away? Take a break from everything? And have a new page, no mistakes this times and no regrets? Just a second chance, to do everything again, but this time, do things the right way.

I made my way to my room, locking the door behind me. I went over to my blog account and stared at the growing number of followers. Thoughts kept flying around in my head.

How did I not see this? My own sister loved books, loved writing, it was only natural for her to start blogging but I wouldn't have expected it to be my ex's story.

Sorry, scratch that. My ex's FAKE story.

I needed a clean slate. I needed to change. I can't let a person's cruelty harden my heart. And I couldn't let my mistakes backfire.

I quickly sat on my cushion-y leather chair and flicked open my Macbook. I checked the blogger's-sorry, I mean, my sister's blog once again and I saw that she tweeted something. I read the following words:

"Sorry readers, this blog wasn't true, I lied about everything. :)"

There was so much hate on her ask account, people accusing her of lying, others accusing her of being a total b*tch for misleading her readers. Her blog chapters were deleted and she tweeted again saying that the twitter was going to be deactivated in an hour.

I was about to do the same with my blog, close everything and delete the posts but then I saw a new DM from a name that caught my attention.

"@LayalAlX: Heey! Wow your blog is amazing mashallah, I can't believe that this story is true. I can't stop reading everything! When's the next post?;p"

The avatar was of Layal. Yes, THE Layal.

Her skin was bronzed, showing off a summer tan when in reality, she was paler because of the chilly weather. Her colourful eyes were brighter in the picture, her lips fuller and next to her, was another girl with a veil around her, they were both smiling at the camera in a goofy way. I checked her following they were mostly girls, except for a few guys from her school or who are related to her.

 I decided to do something else.

I deleted everything, my posts and created a new blog website. I tweeted the following:

"Sorry guys, I deleted this story but there will be a new story coming soon!"

And then, I  replied to Layal's DM.

"@********: Lol thank you. But there will be a new story now, the old one sucks. :p"

She replied instantly.

"@LayalAlX: Laaa2 laaaaish!?:( I loved the story so much!"

I smiled at her DM, chuckling to myself.

"@******: La2 walla mu 7ilu.:p"

"@LayalAlX: Agoulech walla 7lu. -.-"

"@******: Umm, ana 9bay..."

"@LayalAlX: Oh... sorry."

"@*****: La2 3ade:p which college do you go to?"

I already knew what the answer would be but I wanted to act like I didn't know her at all. And I wanted to start a conversation, just to get my mind off of things.

"@LayalAlX: Non."

Non?

I squinted at the bright screen, her attitude suddenly changed once she figured that I was a guy.

Man, this girl was strange.

"@******: Aha ok cool. :p"

I waited.

No reply.

She tweeted a couple of times but she didn't try to continue the conversation with me. I scratched the back of my head, unable to figure this girl out.

"THARI? WATH7A? GHADA!" I heard my mother yell from downstairs, her voice echoing through the whole house.

"Kane yaay!" I yelled back. I changed out of my winter clothes and replaced them with comfortable shorts and a sleeveless shirt. I was still in shock about the whole blog thing and a bit confused after hearing Manal's voice, but at the same time, I was content. However, Layal's behaviour still clouded around in my head, making me feel puzzled.

I hurried downstairs, my feet sliding over the marble floors easily as I walked into the large dining room. My father wasn't here, as usual. It was just Mom, Wath7a and me. It always felt like this was our family, no Dad at all and I didn't mind his absence anymore, I preferred it.

Wath7a looked happy, she gave me more warm smiles now and she didn't stick her head into her phone, which she usually does when I try to start a conversation with her. She usually tries to avoid me and I never knew the reason to it. I guess it was because she was disgusted by my actions, but I guess she isn't anymore. I got my second chance and I was glad.

"3ajeeb el mchbous!" I mumbled, my mouth full of boiled rice and heated meat. (*Mchbous la7am: It's a Kuwaiti dish.)

"3awafe." Mom laughed at my silliness, her pearly teeth illuminating. A sudden shot of pain hit me when I saw her smile, I didn't want to be the purpose of her smile vanishing. I couldn't tell her about Dad's affair. Not now, not ever.

"Shfeek yuma?" Mom felt my sudden change of emotion.

"Ma feene shay." I pointed to the food, indicating that I was too full to smile properly. She laughed again, buying my whole act.

"Yebtly chocolate cake?" Wath7a said, her braces filled with pieces of juicy meat. Usually I'd laugh at the image of her but this time, I just couldn't. My heart went out for my mother.

"Bayeeblch bacher etha dawemt." I replied to Wath7a, hiding my uneasiness.

"Heya!" Wath7a cheered. Seriously, this girl does not look like a 13/14 year old.

After lunch, Wath7a went up to her room and my mother was in the living room, watching her usual Turrkish series. Jenny cleaned up the dishes and this time, I decided to help out. Yes, I was totally avoiding my mom.

"Thari, what are you doing? You cannot clean anything, go sit with Madame, let me clean myself." Jenny looked crossly at me. I was in the white countered kitchen, my hands dug deep into the bubbly sink, trying to scrub off the stains off of the golden designed plates.

"No no Jenny, I will help." I wiped the beads of sweat forming over my forehead with the back of my hand.

"Putan2anemo! You only wash one dish and you are already sweating?!" Jenny shook her head in disbelief. (*I think it means screw you, shay chithe in filipino.)

"What did you just say?" I started laughing like crazy, letting go of the wet plates, causing a loud clank to echo through the kitchen.

"I say a bad word in Filipino." Jenny gave me an evil smile, her wrinkles forming around her Asian eyes.

"Don't make me swear at you in Arabic." I challenged her.

"I know all the swear words in Arabic, you think me dumb haa?" Jenny shook her head at me,  her ponytail swishing around a bit as she grabbed the sponge from my hand and started cleaning the dishes herself.

"Wath7a taught you, didn't she?" I cursed Wath7a mentally for teaching Jenny. We used to trick Jenny when we were kids, speaking in Arabic when she didn't know much of our language, the old days when she was still new.

"Wath7a is nice, not like you. Kili mabahou2." Jenny fired another Filipino word at me. (*This means "your armpits smell" in Filipino.)

"Agoul, khala9 barou7 mama." I held up my hands in surrender, she won me over with the Filipino remarks. I was forced to leave the kitchen and join my mother in the living room.

"Shfeek elyoum? awal mara t7awil etsa3id Jenny." Mom shook her head at me whilst laughing once I entered the lit up living room.

"Madry, taghyeer." I shrugged.


Never. Go. Into. That. Kitchen. Again. Thari.

I mentally put that into my head, Jenny was a fierce housekeeper.

"Shsaweit elyoum? Solifly yalla." Mom tore her eyes away from the TV and planted them right on me. I suddenly grew nervous, my fingers tapping against my thigh.

"Uhm, ma saweit shay. Dawemt w bas." I shrugged again, trying to avoid her eyes, so I stared at the TV. It was like her eyes were lasers, inspecting me. My mom was worse than the FBI.

"You're hiding something from me." Mom stated, her fluent English rolling off of her tongue. She always speaks in English when she's super serious, it's like her attack mode.

"Ana? Laaaaaa. Hey shoufay, isn't that your Turkish series? Bida." I gave Mom a fake grin. I should have gone upstairs instead of here, I shouldn't have come here. I was horrible at acting. I'm so stupid.

"Thari, la etchathib." Mom didn't even look at the TV for a second, she stood her ground.

"Yuma wla shay 9ar, 8a9eb y9eer shay?" I huffed in fake annoyance.

"You can't hide stuff from your own mother." Mom's eyes looked at me in a disapproving way, her naturally thin eyebrows moving around a bit.

"I'll keep that in mind." I replied in an emotionless tone, trying not to give anything away. Mom sighed in response, ending the subject. She started watching the Turkish series, not speaking to me. I took this as cue to leave the living room.

I was nearly successful with my escape but something got in my way. More like someone. You see, there's an entrance door right next to the living room. We have three doors, one entrance door, one back door for the parking area and one that leads you to the pool, as well as the garden.

The entrance door was pulled open and my father entered the house with a blank expression on his face. Usually, I'd ignore his presence and continue my way to my room, to continue whatever I had to do for university.

But this time.

Oh no, this time.

His wh*re was right behind him, her heels sliding over the floors of our house, her face full of confidence and her body cocooned by a tight dress, showing off her filthy curves.

"Oooh 7beeby, hatha Thari, wildik?" The gingered woman stood a few feet away from me as she purred. Her red manicured hand was resting over his arm, while he kept his head drooped down low.

"Thari.." My father began to say, I stood in front of them, shocked. How did he.. How did he have the nerve to bring her to our house?! My mother was in the living room, there was a wall blocking her view of the entrance door so she couldn't see us. I couldn't let her see this.

"Meet my wife Thari." My father said in a shameful voice. I was about to reply.

I was about to punch the b*stard's face.

But one quiet voice stopped me.

My mother's.

"Zaid?"