The Girl in The Green Scarf

T h i r t y - s e v e n

C H A P T E R

37

- H a m s a -

I'm being swept up, pushed forward, and rolled away.

Unholy pain burns my insides, heat scorches my leg and the voices around me pierce my ears, making me writhe in agony.

People speak in hurried shouts.

Fast and urgent. I cannot understand them.

I can't hang on to what they're saying. The only voice I can make out is Yahiya's, so far away, saying, "Is my sister going to be okay?"

I'm prodded, moved onto a metal table, a bright light shines above me, blinding my eyes. My body no longer seems to work and I'm getting tired of the pain.

Go, go away. Leave me alone, I'm exhausted.

But they don't, instead a mask covers my mouth and nose, and I think it is going to suffocate me.

And then the noise stop and I go to sleep, lulled by the gloomy rhythmic beep of machines.

*

The burning smell of disinfectants is the first thing my mind registers.

Next comes the pain.

I cannot fully open my eyes at first. I have to take several slow blinks until my eyes adjusted to the bright, clean room.

The agony in my head competes with the intense throbbing pain everywhere else in my body. I try to move my hand to press against my temple; to ward off this headache, but needles and wires on my forearm hold it down.

My body feels so heavy, and my hand and arm throb. Alarmed, I try to sit up, but my limbs ignore my commands. I'm not in control.

Yahiya speaks up before I panic attacks. "Hey, hey. Hamsa, look at me. I'm here. You're okay."

He is sitting in a chair drawn up to the bed, leaning forward, as close as he can get without crawling into the cot with me. Carefully, he move up to brush my hair back and plants a gentle kiss on my forehead.

"You're okay," he murmurs, reassuring me. Perhaps reassuring himself.

He is smiling but his face is snow white and there are dark circles under his eyes, matching the bruises on his cheek and mouth. I don't know how much time I've spent in this bed, but I doubt he's slept for any of it.

I notice the slight tremor in his hands. "I've been worried sick..." he trails off.

He sits back on the chair, but his grip on my hand remains tight, as though he is worried I might float away.

I swallow hard, trying to wet my dry throat.

"I'm sorry," I croak.

He shakes his head, squeezing my hand. "It doesn't matter anymore."

I don't bother to ask what had happened. It was obvious. Yahiya and Sebastian got me out of the building, somehow, and I must have been taken to the hospital when I was passed out. So I ask, "Is everyone okay? Anas and Zayn?"

"Yes. They're both okay, everyone is," Yahiya says all in a rush. "Lamees took care of Anas and Zayn's injury was light."

I sigh in relief. "Alhamdulillah."

My gaze drifts to the window, out looking a parking lot. The sky is tinted a faded orange, a tell-tale that it's almost sunset.

Yahiya lets go of my hand long enough to pull the blanket up to my waist and smooth it.