The Girl in The Green Scarf

T h r e e

CHAPTER THREE
HAMSA

"I don't damsel well. Distress, I can do. Damseling? Not so much."
― James Patterson

I clench my teeth, holding back a screech as pain shoots up my spine.

Alhamdulillah this happened to me and not that lady; she would have suffered a lot.

A gasp shudders past my lips as my neighbor, Madame Moneera, moves to another part of my back, sponging it with warm water.

I am sure the gash looks as bad as it feels; I can hear her sucking on her teeth, repeating, "Poor girl. Those sick men, don't they fear the wrath of Allah?"

"I'm fine." I keep assuring her, but I cannot maintain the tough act, because every time the sponge touches my back I flinch or gasp.

She is trying her best to clean my wound as kindly as possible but nonetheless the pain is excruciating, and I cannot help but wonder what it would have been if that barefooted guy did not come to my rescue.

I know he is just another one of them and they are not capable of doing well, just as I am sure he did not help me out of the goodness of his heart, but nonetheless I find myself feeling grateful to him.

And I hate it. The fact that I feel gratitude towards one of the monsters.

Maybe he is different, I think. But I know better.

"Just tell me what was going through your mind when you threw yourself at that guard!" Madame Moneera asks in her trademark sympathatic voice.

I chuckle, turning to her. "You make it sound as if I was offering myself to the man; you know I was attacking him right?"

Her eyes are full of kindness and her wrinkled face is creased with worry. It amazes and touches me how much she cares for me even though we are not related by blood.

"Both are very stupid things to do."

Her face softens and she holds my shoulders turning me back around.

"Now don't move let me finish cleaning your wound," she says, then mutters, "dear lord! This is going to leave a nasty scar."

I try to ignore the pain as she finishes up my back and sanitizes it.

"Let me get something to wrap you up with," she says, getting up to shuffle through her drawers.

"Make sure it's shiny and pretty," I joke.

"We don't want anyone to go ahead and abduct you now do we?" She is trying to joke back, but the mention of abduction makes her stiffen.

I have known Madame all my life. But only after the death of my parents did we grow close. She is a mother-like figure to me now, and she says I remind her of her granddaughter, who was abducted years back.

Around here when someone goes missing, you just lose all hope of them coming back. Waiting around for something that might never happen is simply too painful.

I am one to know.

After my parents' death, I had waited by our front porch for months, hoping they would come back. But they never did.

"This should suffice," Madame says, coming back a roll of gauze in one hand and tape in the other.

She takes her seat behind me again and I remain still letting her do her magic.

This isn't the first time I get in trouble and come to her for help.

I know I can trust Madame to keep my troubles from my family. Yahiya would lose it if he finds out about the stunt I pulled this afternoon.