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?"

Le Chase Chapter 10

Heellooo! How are you all? :D I've activated my ask again, I won't enable comments just yet. It's still disabled for now, mabe sab on my posts, I have my young readers to think about. xx

I've also started putting "previously.." just to remind you guys of what happened, I'll stop adding it on once I start posting daily again *enshallah this happens, I miss the old days too when I could post 2 chapters to 4 chapters a day*.

Feedback: www.ask.fm/vieblogue

I censored all the swear words, trying to be more manly since I'm a guy in this story. :::

This won't be a long story by the way.

-

Previously in Chapter 9.

"Thari?" The man's nervous voice was too familiar, it caused my head to shoot up from my phone and my eyes landed on the two customers standing in front of me.

The woman in her thirties had dark auburn hair, showing off her Lebanese beauty. Her eyes were rimmed with eyeliner and her lips pasted with dark red lipstick. She was holding onto a tall man with salt and pepper hair, with wrinkled dark eyes.

The same wrinkled eyes that I happened to look into for 18 years.

My father.

-

"Yuba?" My voice croaked out in disbelief. Who the hell was the woman who was with him? And why the f*ck is she holding onto him like that?

"Uhm, ent tishtighl ehni?" My father's eyes filled with stress, he slowly moved away from the gingered hair woman, ignoring her confused expression.

"Shnu, neseit?" I challenged him, my fury building up inside.

"Yalla guys, see you tomorrow!" Layal's voice chirped behind me, she stopped once she noticed the tension in the atmosphere between my Dad and I.

"Um." Layal tensed up behind me. Fffh, shtabe hathe b3ad?

"Na3am?" I replied to Layal in a harsh tone.

"You're blocking the way, ma agder a6ouf." Layal said in a polite tone, her eyes widening for a second, surprised at my sudden behaviour.

"Oh. Asif." I sighed and took a step the left so Layal could pass and leave the counter.

6ale3t 7aritik eb Layal, ehya shsawat? Obouk ely ga3d yikhoun omik, Layal malha sheghl!

I tried to calm myself down but I couldn't, my anger was taking over me and the tiny voice in my head was fading slowly. I couldn't believe it, how could he betray my own mother? This explained the late nights at work, this explained his cold behaviour with my mom. It explained everything.

And it made me hate him even more.

"Mnu hathe?" I shot my eyes towards the woman with the ginger hair. My father looked rigid, unable to find an answer.

"Ha yuba?" I challenged him even more, I pressed my fingers against the cool counter in front of me, my knuckles turning white.

"Heba, digeega shway." My dad nudged the woman besides him, she understood what he meant and swiftly left the cafe in a hurry, her heels click clacking over the cafe's marble floors.

"Thari.." My dad began, his deep voice full of confidence. I knew what was coming, a bunch of excuses. A bunch of lies. A bunch of bullsh*t that I didn't want to hear.

"La2 mabe a3arif." I snapped at my father, leaving the counter and grabbing my stuff, ready to leave. I couldn't take his sh*t.

"Thari!" My father bellowed, his voice nearly close to yelling. A bunch of the workers started staring at us.

Legafa, shyaboun hathoula b3ad? Fffh.

"Wai3, wakher 3ane bas." I pushed my father to the side, not caring about my inappropriate attitude and actions. He didn't bother saying anything else, he let me leave the cafe without another word.

I bet all he wanted was to me to leave so he could go back to his date with his wh*re.

I climbed into my car and drove off as fast as I could. I loved speed and the adrenaline rush that hit me whenever I went past the speed limit. I was furious, hurt and shocked. It was a bad combo. A really bad one.

I forced myself to go slower, I couldn't risk into getting a car accident. I wasn't that stupid. Once I was back home, I noticed that my Mom's car was gone.

Phew, I didn't have to face her now.

I didn't know what to do. Should I even tell Mom about what I saw today? Or keep quiet and not hurt her? I trudged into the house, throwing the car keys over one of the tables in the living rooms before hurrying upstairs.

"La2, Thari lal7een ma rad. Laish? La2 ma y9eer!" My sister's voice was so loud, I heard every word as I stood outside of my room. Her room was right next to mine and the walls in this house was thin. I became suspicious, who the hell was she talking to?

"B3dain ra7 yi3a9ib, umbay digeega a3ti8id tawa rad el bait, bye bye bye, ush bas bye!" Wath7a's voice was full of panic and fear.


She couldn't be speaking to a guy, could she? She's just 13, or was she 14? Madry, I keep forgetting her age, she looks 11 to me with her puny body.

I pushed her oak door open, entering her white furnished bedroom. There were dozens of flower decorations everywhere, one huge canopy bed was in the middle and there was a window, letting the sun fill up the bright room.

"Wath7a, laish sakaitay el telephone faj2a chithe?" I asked in a suspicious tone. Wath7a was on her white sheeted bed, wearing pj trousers and a comfy looking grey shirt. Her hair was let loose, her curls wild, framing her baby face.

"Uhm-m.. ma kent 3la el telephone." Wath7a lied, her words stuttering. The mobile wasn't in her hand, it was besides her but it was obvious that she was lying.

"La etchathbeen 3lay! 3a6eene telephonech al7een." My curiosity was causing me to think the worst of her.  Did she have a boyfriend now? Was this a new trend with these girls these days?

Y3ne as if you're innocent Thari.

I ignored the petty little voice in my head. I charged over to where Wath7a was and grabbed her blackberry before she could hide it or delete anything.

I was going to check her bbm chats later, first I wanted to check who she called.

"Shnu el pass code?" I asked Wath7a in a stern voice, her face full of fright.

"Uhm." Wath7a stuttered, her fingers drumming over her legs nervously.

"Wath7a, what's the pass code?!" I nearly yelled at her. Her eyes were full of tears, seeing her this way made my heart broke. This was because of me but I only cared so much for her. I didn't want anyone to break the innocence of my little sister.

"3201." Wath7a murmured, keeping her eyes in front of her. I pressed my fingers over the buttons and typed the number. I clicked on "Last Calls" and looked for the a**hole's number. The a**hole who bothered to call my sister and ruin her, brainwash her childish mind.

But what I found shocked me. Made me speechless.

There was no guy.

No a**hole to shout or yell at.

Wath7a's blackberry slipped out of my fingers, dropping down to her fluffy bed once I was gobsmacked with what I just read.

Last Call: Manal Al-X.

Le Chase Chapter 9

Hey guys! Sorry for the delay.

I decided to bring back my old 50 chapter story, it was my favourite. If you'd like to read it first before reading Le Chase, here's the link to the first chapter (this is the original Masquerade story): http://v-ie.blogspot.com/2012/04/chapter-1.html *But do not read this story if you're not 13 years old and up, you have been warned.

THIS POST IS DEDICATED TO THIS BEAUTIFUL BIRTHDAY GIRL RIGHT HERE: @Lalboulayan , enjoy your birthday to the fullest gorgeous!:*

Send me your feedback: @vieblogue.

-

Previously in Chapter 8:

 "Oh.. uhm, 3yal Layal makh6ouba?" Thari's sudden question startled me. 

Shtabe eb Layal?! Mu ga3d tis2alny hal as2la 3shan tabeeny ana? Lal7een ga3d tfakr feeha?! 

"Layal?" I replied, my eyebrows knitting in confusion.  

"Uhm, eee.." Thari looked uncomfortable. 

Ehya mu makh6ouba bas if I say that... Farah stop thinking!

"Eee makh6ouba!"


-


-THARI-


It's official. The girls here are crazy.


It's been 9 days now, working in Chocolate Bar. I managed to fit in work with uni at the same time, I backed off, not giving Layal the time of day after Farah told me that she was engaged.


And apparently, Farah had also told me that one of Layal's friends is already pregnant.


"Shift Heba? Hathee refeejat Layal, she's totally pregnant and she isn't even married yet!" Farah gossiped, her winged eyes full of alert.


"Aha." I said remotely as I was staring off to space, it was too early in the morning to expect any customers. The cafe was filled with Kuwait's blazing sunlight and the winter's chilly breeze.

"Aha? Bas?" Farah looked at me in a ludicrous way.

Hathee shfeeha? Shayfetny ghabe ba9adig ena wa7da Kuwateya 7amel w lal7een ma tizawejet? W el mshkela el bent 3a9la w Farah etgoul she's in her 4th month of pregnancy.

Girls. Are. Crazy.

"Eee, aha. Shasaweeleha? Kaifha el bent." I shrugged, looking at the grey cashier in front of me. I never figured out how to play with the buttons yet, I didn't get to take a customer's order in my 9 days of work since Layal always got the cashier before I could.

"Okay Tharouy." Farah said in a spoiled tone that made me cringe a bit. She was wearing another one of her tight shirts, I couldn't control my eyes, they would move to her body for a second and then my mind would realize how inappropriate I was being. Farah was hot, I had to admit but she only had her looks, nothing else.

Maybe if one of my other friends, like 3abbas, he'd like a girl like her. Stupid and reckless.

I prefer a girl with a good head on her shoulders. I've changed my taste, I needed a woman I'd be able to bring back to my mother. Not a woman to show off to my friends.

I needed a change.

"Na3am?" I replied, she kept sticking her arms against mine, trying to make body contact. It's seductive but it's getting annoying now.

"Shfeek elyoum em3a9ib?" Farah asked in a sweet tone.

"Mu em3a9ib." I lied. I was still mad at the fact that Layal was engaged, I had no right to be mad or even jealous but I was stubborn like that.

"Weeh, lal7een fa'9y el mukan?" A new voice entered into the conversation. I turned around and found Layal, wearing a light coloured veil that complimented her light skin and brought our her multicoloured eyes. Behind Layal, was one of her friends. There were too many girls in this job, there were only maybe 4 Kuwaiti guys and they didn't show up much.

"Eee." Farah answered Layal with a glare.

"Shfeeha hathe?" Layal's tall friend with the light hair hissed.

"Madry." Layal shrugged, ignoring Farah's mean attitude.

"Uhm, Layal." I cleared my throat, stopping Layal from turning back around to go back into the kitchen.

"Na3am?" Layal looked a bit surprised by me, she faced me and kept her tone polite.

"Mabrouk." I forced a smile. "Entay w.. uhm, Abdulra7man."

"Oh akeed Ebrahim galik ena 7amani rad, allah yibarik feek mashkour." Layal looked a bit confused which confused me even further. Farah kept fidgeting besides me, looking nervous.

"Thari t3al dige-" Farah started to say but I cut her off.

"Rad? La2 8a9di mabrouk 3la el khe6ba." I scratched the back of my neck, my eyebrows furrowing with curiosity.

"Ey khe6ba?" Layal's face twisted in surprise. Her friend burst out laughing, her eyes bulging out of her eye sockets.

"Umbay enta mu min 9ijik, 3balik Layal makh6ouba? TO HER OWN BROTHER?" Layal's friend held back her stomach, her laughs growing wild.

What? Her brother?!

I turned to look at Farah but she wasn't by my side anymore, she practically ran away.

How could I have believed such a liar? Who made up gossip about others? Thari enta ghaby!

"Abdulra7man okhouch?" I asked, my voice cracking in embarrassment. 

"Eee Thari.." Layal looked at me in bewilderment. "Etha enta rafeej okhouy, shloun ma t3arif hal shay?"

"Uhm.. I-I." I stuttered, trying to muster up an excuse.

-

-LAYAL-

Thari hasn't been speaking to me in days, he even avoided asking me for lessons on how to work the cashier when the manager told him to ask me for help. I also felt like he was acting super weird lately, giving me strange looks and hanging around Farah a lot.

I couldn't believe my ears when he assumed I was engaged to my own brother, it was crazy.

But my suspicions were growing. He was standing right in front of me with a blank expression on his face, unable to answer my question.

"Ha?" I urged him to answer. How can he not know that 7amany is my brother too? Did Ibrahim act like 3boud didn't exist or was Thari creating lies?

"Ana rafeej Ibrahim ee bas we're not close, bas 6ile3na chem mara w bas." Thari quickly said, keeping his face emotionless. It made me question my own suspicions. I didn't know much about my brother's friends or what they did together, it was non of my business so I couldn't prove if Thari was telling me the truth or not.

But I had one way to see if he was lying or not.

"Ahh okay." I dismissed the subject and left with Deema behind me, still laughing at Thari and his accusations.

-

-THARI-

That was so close. SO CLOSE.

But all I was thinking about was how Layal was single now, no ties attached to her. I was humming all day, my spirits all cheered up. I tried looking for Farah to confront her but she vanished, she probably went back home to avoid me.

The only crazy girl here was Farah.

The day passed on quickly, I didn't avoid Layal anymore and freely spoke to her whenever I had the chance to, but I felt like she put some distance between us after our conversation this morning. Her suspicious eyes would watch me every few minutes, inspecting me.

Was she on to me?

I didn't know.

Work ended quickly today, I was ecstatic on going back home to taste my mother's zubaidy cooked fish. She only cooked once a week and let the housekeepers do the cooking all week. I grabbed my Hackett jacket and zipped it up to my neck, warming up my skin.

I crouched down the counter to grab my Samsung, which was in a little basket in one of the drawers. The manager would take our phones before work and hand it to us afterwards, it was lame but it was one of the rules.

A little jingle rang in the cafe, letting us know new customers just came in.

"Welcome to Chocolate Bar sir!" Jarra7, one of the guy workers here, bellowed at the customers who just walked into the cafe. I felt sorry for the guy, his shift started when mine ended, so he'd always give me a little frown when I told him it was time for me to go.

I stood up, keeping my eyes on my Samsung, replying to all my Whatsapp messages, Twitter mentions and texts. My eyes weren't on the customers in front of me.

"Zaid, khala9." A woman, probably in her early thirties, giggled flirtatiously.

"Thari?" The man's nervous voice was too familiar, it caused my head to shoot up from my phone and my eyes landed on the two customers standing in front of me.

The woman in her thirties had dark auburn hair, showing off her Lebanese beauty. Her eyes were rimmed with eyeliner and her lips pasted with dark red lipstick. She was holding onto a tall man with salt and pepper hair, with wrinkled dark eyes.

The same wrinkled eyes that I happened to look into for 18 years.

My father.

Le Chase Chapter 8

Heey guys! How are you all? Yes I'm officially back now. :D Thank you all for being so nice, sending me the early birthday wishes and being so considerate. :') I love you guys! xx

This also might be my last story once summer ends. (I might come back next summer to start a new story, who knows?)

Tell me what you think about the whole thing on my twitter, @vieblogue.

-

"No no, not like that Thari, move the icing in elegant spirals." Ferro, the manager said in an annoyed voice. It's been a few days and I've gotten used to waking up extra early.

"What?" I asked, trying to hold in my laugh. We were in the grey kitchen of Chocolate Bar and Ferro was teaching me how to place the icing over the cake. I thought my messy icing on the cake looked alright, it looked even a bit artistic if I say so myself.

"IN ELEGANT SPIRALS THARI, ELEGANT SPIRALS!" Ferro snapped, his patience cracking.

"Okay okay!" I hid my grin, turning around to try to move my fingers in an "elegant" way over the cakes whilst the scent of vanilla and caramel slithered up my nostrils.

"Ugh, kids!" Ferro shook his head in disappointment and walked off.

"Young adult*." I murmured to myself, correcting him. I hummed to myself, my arms aching after icing so many cakes and having to throw them away when they weren't perfect enough for Ferro. I hid the cakes in a plastic bag and gave them to the workers instead, not letting Ferro know I never actually threw them into the trash.

"Thari, that's messed up." Layal said behind me, she startled me for a second, causing the icing to smear all over the plate instead of on the cake.

"That's the look I'm going for." I replied stubbornly, I was still mad at her. Yeah, I was being childish.

"Kaifik bas Ferro birid bizifik." Layal shrugged, her honey scent filling up the kitchen. The Chef was behind us, giving both of us a little look that said "I know you have a crush on her, I know, tralalalalala."

"LAYAL WHERE ARE YOU?" A familiar voice shouted through the kitchen, startling all of us. Denny rushed in, her bun high up and her expression stern.

"YALLA BABA SAY COME BACK HOME." Denny gave me a glare before going to grab Layal's arm. Layal looked embarrassed since everybody started to stare at her and gave her this look that said "An 18 year old with a nanny? Seriously?"

"Denny." Layal grunted, trying to free her arm.

"BABA CALL NOW ANY SECOND AND HE WILL BE ANGRY, YALLA." Denny tried to pull Layal but Denny was so tiny, Layal wasn't tall but next to Denny's miniature height, she was a giant.

"Denny I finish work in 7 hours. Not now." Layal hissed.

"Oh.." Denny looked confused for a second and let go of Layal.

"I knew it, Baba didn't tell you to get me." Layal rolled her eyes at Denny.

"Okay I come back in 7 hours then." Denny turned to leave but then, she turned back around once more and gave me a dirty look.

"Stay away." Denny mouthed, her words and her glare aimed right at me. I would have laughed but her eyebrows was arched in an evil way and her teeth bared right at me, ready to attack me if I ever tried to pull a move on Layal.

"Enshallah 3amity." I bowed, keeping a hand over my chest before Denny left the kitchen, her words not seen or heard by the other workers.

"Sorry." Layal kept hissing to the workers, looking embarrassed. Her eyes drifted to mine for a second but I quickly broke off the eye contact. I was stubborn.

Layal turned to leave the kitchen and walked off to the cashier section where her friends were. I decided to stick as close as possible to the wall so I could pick up on their conversation whilst adding the icing over the cakes. I couldn't help but be nosy.

"Banaaat!" Layal excitedly said.

"Shfeech mistansa?" One of her friends laughed.

"Abdulrahman biyee elyoum!" Layal said in a more excited tone.

"Umbayy wanasa!" Another one of her friends replied.

Seriously?

"You're gonna pick him up from the airport, mu 9a7?" Her friend, Fatima I think, said.

"Akeed!" Layal answered.

Mu men 9ejha, 9a7? Wein ga3deen?

Thari as if you never went out with a girl before, you're not one to talk!

Okay bas ehya bent.. ana 9bay, fee farg..

You're so sexist, at the end of the day, both of you are doing something wrong.


I ignored my conscience, the little voice kept nagging at me at the back of my head, annoying me.

"Kalemta elyoum 3la telephone w hal mara obouy biyee wyay." Layal continued.


Wait, what? Obouha biyee wyaha? Thari, hatha yemkin mu 7beebha, can it be possible that she's engaged already? La2 ma y9eer, she's too young..


"Hey, entay." I hissed to one of the female workers, she had long dark hair and she has been eying me ever since I joined the crew. "Uhm.. Farah."

"Eta3rif esmy?" Her eyes lit up, I acted as if I didn't read her name on the name tag on her striped shirt.

"Eee akeed! Uhm, 3nde su2al." I tried to act as casual as possible.

"Ee?" Farah took a step closer, enjoying the sudden attention I was giving her. I knew I had to ask a few random questions before I started asking about Layal, I didn't want to be too obvious.

-

-FARAH-

This was unbelievable.. The new guy was finally speaking to me. I couldn't help but notice that he had been eying Layal, watching her every second when Layal wasn't looking. It was so obvious that he had a crush on her and that pissed me off, what did he see in her?

She barely wore anything that showed off her figure, all she wore was baggy clothes to work and had little make up on. Okay we get it you wear a veil (*veil means 7jab), but seriously, can you wear something a little more attractive?

I was proud of my outfit today, I wore a tight Tommy Hilfiger striped shirt that accented my curves and a pencil skirt. I even straightened my long hair today and added extra mascara.

Finally, it paid off. Thari was speaking to me, ha!

"You girls.. when do you think is a right age to get engaged at?" Thari's smoldering eyes gaped into mine.

Y3ne naghza tabe tekh6ibny? Thari Al-X yabeeny? Ashkara yabeeny.


"Any age." I gave Thari a seductive grin.

"Any?!" Thari looked alarmed and fearful of my answer.

"Eee akeed! B3ad the younger the better." I continued, trying to give him the hint that I'm ready to get married now. With his family money and his looks, think of all the good looking kids we'd have.

"Bas aren't you girls a bit.. uhm, young to get married now?" Thari continued questioning me, his fingers running through his jet black wavy hair.

"Nope, like I said, the younger the better Thari." I repeated again as my fingers toyed with my necklace.

"Oh.. uhm, 3yal Layal makh6ouba?" Thari's sudden question startled me.

Shtabe eb Layal?! Mu ga3d tis2alny hal as2la 3shan tabeeny ana? Lal7een ga3d tfakr feeha?!

"Layal?" I replied, my eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"Uhm, eee.." Thari looked uncomfortable.

Ehya mu makh6ouba bas if I say that... Farah stop thinking!

"Eee makh6ouba!"