Trust Me (An Islamic Love Story)

Chapter 50

I wake up to an empty room. Hours after, Basma comes to me and unties me. I am shivering, the kid's scream ringing in my ears. "Is he okay?" I ask her, but she doesn't reply and just takes me to my room.

She makes me lie down and gives me some pills. I am back in the room with the servants lined up. I hear a kid screaming. I run towards the person Raheesh is whipping. Instead, of the six-year-old kid, it is Azar fallen to his knees.

The closer I come to Azar, the farther he gets. "Who is hitting you, Azar?"

"Abeer is."

"NO! AZAR," I scream. "DON'T HURT HIM!"

The servants disappear. Raheesh disappears.

Basma rushes towards me. "Abeer?" She calls out as she grips my shoulders.

"AZAR, YOU WILL BE OKAY!" I cry out. "HIT ME INSTEAD! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

Basma squeezes me into a tight hug. "Is he okay? Is the boy okay?" I ask her, crying into her shoulder.

"He is unconscious, but he is fine," she responds in a hushed tone. "Don't worry, he is strong."

"He thinks I hurt him," I sob. "He thinks it was my decision."

"Shush..."

"Are all of them okay?" I ask her, not letting go.

"Yes, don't worry, I promise you they are fine," she insists.

"Is Azar back?"

"No," Basma replies.

"He won't come back, right?"

"Right." She helps me lie down and caresses my hair, humming until I fall back asleep.

The next day, Basma shifts into my room, telling me Abbas ordered her to keep a watch on me 24/7.

The following nights get worse. On some nights, I see myself whipping the servants in my nightmares. On others, I see Azar either getting hit or hitting the servants. Every time I would feel as if I was dying as if someone was pressing down on my chest.

"I want to see Abbas," I demand one night when I couldn't bear the truth anymore.

"What use would that be to you?" Basma asks in a soft tone.

"I want to give him a piece of my mind," I shake as I say, trying to make my anger my strength.

"Abeer, you can't change what happened," she appeases, trying to calm me down. "Besides, he has been out of town for the past few days."

I push myself out of bed the next morning despite feeling exhausted. I find Basma in the kitchen, and when I approach her, I notice something. Her cheek is bruised badly, and her lip is bleeding.

"What happened?" I inquire with concern.

"Master hit me," she tells me as she keeps away the ointment.

"Why?" I ask concernedly.

"Because I helped you with your nightmares," she answers in a monotone, and a part of me sinks as I realize her behavior is going to change to how it was before, unresponsive and unmoved.

"Why did you let him?" I exclaim. "Why do you let him treat you like that?"

"It is my job," she says, not meeting my eyes.

"This is insane," I exhale. "You are a human, Basma, not a robot. You have a right to speak, the right to express your own opinion, and a right to defend yourself. You have to stand up for yourself."

"I have no right whatsoever," she denies and leaves the kitchen, and I follow her out. "I am his servant. He is my master. He has authority and power over me. It is my duty to obey him."