One Hundred and Fifteen

As narrated by Dee:

Not bothering to glance at my screen, I hastily answer the call.

Mistake number 1. 

“Hello?” I greet.

“Deeyanah Mahomed?”

The voice is masculine with a sharp edge to it, immediately warning me to forgo speaking further.

Ignoring the voice inside my head, I reply.

Mistake number 2.

“Yes, speaking.”

“You are to convey the following message to Amaani Ahmad. She is to be present at Schnazle’s Cafè tomorrow at 3:25 pm sharp. Table 7 has been reserved. This request should not be treated lightly. If so, consequences will be serious.”

The line goes dead.

I hold the phone at my ear for a couple more seconds but I hear nothing.

What the hell?

I frown, playing the message over inside my head, aware that my heart is suddenly beating faster than normal.

“Who was that?”

I spin around at the sound of Amz’s voice, slightly startled.

I look at my phone, hoping it will provide an answer but no such thing happens.

“Dee?”

“Let’s go sit down,” I say quietly.

We head upstairs to my bedroom.

“Who called?” Amz asks again.

“I have no idea. But I wish they hadn’t.”

“Male or female?”

“Male.”

Amz sits up, frowning.

“Adult?”

“Young adult.”

I pause briefly and then tell her exactly what the man had said.

Her eyes widen and her face pales.

“Who could it be? And what does he want?”

I’m silent for a moment, unsure if I should express my thoughts.

“Oh my god, Dee..” Amz trails off, her voice filled with fear and apprehension. “What are we going to do?”

“You’re not going to go, that’s for sure,” I reply instantly, looking her straight in the eye.

“But..  I have to. That’s what.. he said.”

“And you’re just going to obey and walk straight into harm’s way?” I ask.

“Well I’m not just going to ignore it and face the ‘serious consequences’.”

We’re both quiet, deep in thought.

“It could just be some stupid prank,” I mutter, breaking the silence.

“It better not be, because I’m going.”

My gaze snaps up to meet hers.

“No you’re not!”

“It might not be anything dangerous. Maybe it’s a long lost relative who found out I exist.”

“Long lost relatives don’t order you to meet them at places and then put in consequences if you don’t!”

We argue about it for the rest of the day; Amz saying that she should go, while I disagree, worrying about her safety.

She didn’t hear the man’s voice and the sharp edge to it… the kind of sharpness that immediately sounded warning bells.

But still, somehow, in the end, Amz managed to convince me.

“We’ll go together. The person didn’t demand I come alone. And we’ll tell one of the adults. They’ll know where we are. We’re just overthinking it. It’s probably nothing.”

Sighing warily, I nod, giving in.

Mistake number 3.


Morning comes quicker than I’d like.

Throwing my duvet off, I rub my eyes tiredly as I trudge to the bathroom.

I reach for my hijab that usually hangs behind the bathroom door, but it’s not there.

It’s probably in the wash. 

Grabbing the towel, I put it on my head, too tired to go find another hijab, but too afraid of getting possessed by an evil spirited Jinn to go bareheaded to the toilet.

Maama always stressed on the importance of covering our hair when going to the toilet, and doing it from small, it became a habit.

There are many impure Jinnaat in the bathroom and a girl with open hair can be caught very easily. By covering our hair, we are only benefiting and protecting ourselves. And of course, the Dua before entering the toilet should be read, as it is a way seeking Allah (s.w.t)’s protection from the evil Jinnaat.

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After making wudhu and performing my Fajr prayer, I check in on Amz to see if she’s up.

Seeing that she’s awake, I get back into bed… with no intention of sleeping.

Not bothering to check the time, I call Zee.

His sleepy voice greets me and I find myself grinning despite the weight on my shoulders, which I called him to speak about.

We chat for a bit before I update him on the newest dilemma.

“And, that’s not the only problem. I was thinking of going ho.. going to Uncle Rashid,” I say, quickly correcting myself. “Daanyaal is coming out of Rehab today. But now this came up and I can’t decide if I should go with Amz or go to Uncle Rashid…”

Zee is quiet on the other side, thinking; weighing the options.

“Why don’t you go to Uncle Rashid, and I’ll go with Amz?” he suggests after a while.

I sigh, knowing that my heart has already decided.

“What is your heart telling you to do?” Zee asks quietly.

He knows me so well.. sometimes, I think, too well..

“I’m going with Amz,” I say finally.


As narrated by Meez:

Easy now, Meez. 

I pull my cap low over my face, trying to avoid the three muscular men in the distance.

Don’t attract attention to yourself. 

Pretending to know exactly where I’m going, I try my best to walk confidently in the opposite direction.

But my heart is pounding against my chest and all it takes is a slight stumble over a stone which I don’t see in my haste.

And then I do the last thing I should have done.

I look up… and my gaze locks with the biggest of the men.

Recognition flickers in his eyes.

I know those eyes too well; cold and familiar..

He goes by the code name Venom..

A name that once rolled off my tongue with admiration, but now, utter disgust, and worse than that.. terror.

Unfortunately, he knows me too.

I’m still getting back onto my feet when I see his lips move.

The three men begin advancing my way.

Speedily grabbing my phone, I make a run for it.

My shattered phone screen is the least of my worries.

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Hey. Hi. Hello. Salaam. Bonjour. Salut. Ciao. Ahoj. Bog. Marhaba. Ola.😀

Hope everyone’s doing good! 

I am so, so, so eager to hear everyone’s theories and assumptions, so get commenting! I can not wait to hear from you’ll! 

Much Love always,

Troubled Illusioner. ❤

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