Amalie hadn't argued with the guard when he had assumed that the drugs were Kulthum's.

Maybe Kulthum had been in shock because she hadn't argued with him either.

Kulthum hadn't spoken when the guard called the campus police. She hadn't spoken when they separated her from Amalie, who had mouthed "sorry's" till Kulthum could no longer see them. Kulthum hadn't responded to the campus police when they questioned her and grilled her like a meat patty.

Amalie had called Kulthum a good friend for not dobbing her in. Her praise and reassurance should've made Kulthum feel better. However, in those moments, Kulthum felt like she had been set up and was a sacrifice, like a lamb lulled into a field and fattened for slaughter.

Her parents were so ashamed, disgusted, and upset. Would telling them the drugs weren't hers, but they had almost been, be any better?

Kulthum would have to explain why.

She would have to tell them the truth. She would have to explain why she had been desperate to try them, and she didn't know how to.

Plus, even if her parents believed her, no one at the university would.

All Kulthum had was her voice, and she had failed to use it when it mattered.

"You should thank Allah that they're not going to report you to the police," Kulthum's mum hissed.

Kulthum nodded even though she knew the university wasn't doing her a favour. They were doing it to save their own back.

The potential outcome of being charged with possession, whether you intended to sell or not, was a gamble that wasn't worth the university taking. Prison or a fine. Two ends of an extreme. The university wouldn't risk its public image and reputation for a fine.

Her place at that university was at risk. The university council would hold a hearing of her case in a few months, where Kulthum could beg for forgiveness or list all the reasons why she shouldn't be expelled as if she were planning an essay.

There was a third option. Kulthum could save herself. She could snitch on Amalie and provide the council with a different person to prosecute.

Kulthum wasn't going to do any of those things, though. She didn't plan on turning up to the hearing.

Upon hearing that, her mum started a never-ending round of wailing.

"Kulthum, what do you mean you're not going to fight this?" her dad questioned. "You have to!"

"No. I don't," Kulthum argued. "They've already made their minds up about me. Why would I disgrace myself by trying to change them?"

All the evidence was against her. The drugs had been nestled against her chest like a black, sticky leach. Kulthum hadn't protested when they had accused her of the drugs being hers. Amalie, the only other witness to that night, to Kulthum's knowledge, hadn't corroborated the university's claims, but her 'friend' hadn't rebutted them either.

If Kulthum told the truth Amalie would lie.

Amalie was a laugh, but she was better at being a distraction than she was a friend.

When Kulthum stripped Amalie down to her core, she could be quite selfish, and she was spoilt with privilege, a powerful family and money.

"Great! Amazing! Wow!" her mum cheered sarcastically as she clapped. "Fantastic! You won't just be a drug addict. You'll be a drug addict without a degree!"

"Kulthum, we don't really believe that you're an addict," her dad said.

"You might not, but I'm starting to think she is, and quite frankly, maybe it would be better if she was," her mum huffed.

"What?" Kulthum and her dad cried simultaneously.

"At least then we would know what's going on! We'd have a starting point! A clear issue that we could all tackle! I would love to believe the daughter I nursed and raised wouldn't take drugs! I would love to believe I know my daughter well enough to say that, but I don't! I don't know this person in front of me!" Her mum frowned and waved her hands up and down in front of Kulthum, flagging attention to her appearance. "I don't know what's going on with you, Kulthum! You won't speak to us! You won't tell us what's wrong!"

Kulthum's words latched onto the walls of her throat and died there.

Kulthum wheezed loudly and clutched her chest. It felt like someone had stabbed her chest with a corkscrew and was violently twisting it.

Not here, Kulthum. Not now, she begged herself inwardly.

Her mum was accusing her of being a drug addict. Having a fit here would give colour to her accusation and make it look true.

"Kulthum? Are you okay?" her dad asked.

Her mum walked over to the corner where Kulthum had tucked herself and stretched out her arm. Kulthum pushed it away, scared that her mum's touch would start something she wouldn't be able to stop.

"Sorry." Kulthum masked her brief moment of breathlessness with fake coughs. "Something was in my throat. I'm fine. You can sit down, mum."

"Well, you're going to take a test," her dad said. "I'll arrange one with the hospital. Leave your bags at the door. You are not to enter your room until we've searched it and your bags and got your results. We'll plan and go from there."

Kulthum gave her parents a half nod. She wasn't an addict, and she knew her parents knew this deep down.

Her mum had studied and researched the effects of drugs and their symptoms. Her dad had regularly seen and treated people who had taken drugs in his line of work. Her parents knew what those symptoms looked like. Kulthum was sure that she had displayed none in the two hours she had been trapped in the living room with her parents. 

Drugs weren't the issue. She was.

Her parents didn't know that, though. So, they were going with what they did. Kulthum preferred them to do that, too. She didn't want them to press her for a reason as to why she had had the drugs.

She had sinned. If she hadn't sinned, she wouldn't have been at the party, and if she hadn't been at the party, nothing would've happened.

That was her logic. She was to blame.

But she didn't want others blaming her too, because deep down, Kulthum knew their blame would crush her. That was obvious because she was already struggling to deal with her guilt.

"Let's say you don't attend your hearing and get excluded. What do you plan on doing?" her dad asked.

"If you think you're going to sit here and do whatever you were doing at that school, you're mistaken," her mum warned.

Kulthum shrugged. She hadn't thought that far ahead yet. She had been pouring all her attention into Amalie and had been so focused on stopping her friend's life from falling apart because hers felt like it was already in ruins.

"St Andrews just wasn't the right university for me...I'll figure something out. I might apply to a different one," Kulthum said.

Her mum cackled. The notes of her laugh were frayed and broken. "You've already used that excuse, Kulthum."

"That was what you said when you dropped out of Newcastle, and don't try to blame your behaviour on the course either. You already used that excuse when you dropped out of Leicester," her dad reminded.

Her mum folded her arms and settled into the sofa. "Entertain us. What are you going to do?"

Kulthum tried, but she couldn't think of an answer. She had been using education and universities to mask her mess, but now that she was going to get kicked out of St Andrews, her mask had fallen and cracked at her feet, exposing her.

Her parents wouldn't believe anything. They now knew that it had never been the schools, the cities, or the courses, it had always just been her. She was the problematic denominator.

"This is your third university, Kulthum," her mum said.

"I just-I just-I don't know. Some things take time. I just need to find the right place," Kulthum argued weakly.

Her mum's eyes thinned like the final line of sand falling through an hourglass. "Kulthum, even if you can continue studying after the hearing, your university said they've notified the Trust that gave you your scholarship. The Trust is going to pull it, and we won't let you take student finance."

"But–"

"And we aren't going to fund another degree until you prove you're worth it," her dad interrupted.

"You won't sit around the house and do nothing either. I'm too busy to watch a child twenty-four-seven, and you're too old for a babysitter," her mum remarked.

"You better start looking for a job," her dad said. "Do you have an updated CV?"

"What kind of job will she get without a degree?" her mum asked her dad. "She's too old for most apprenticeships now."

Kulthum's dad sighed loudly and placed a hand on his chin. "My sister was talking about us visiting."

"A holiday!" her mum exclaimed. "You want to reward her behaviour?"

The conversation was moving too fast for Kulthum to interrupt. It felt like her life was spiralling away from her faster when her parents spoke like this. Like she wasn't there. It was unusual.

"I don't know if a visit home would be one, and she needs to do something in the meantime. You said it yourself," her dad said.

"I didn't mean send her on holiday!" her mum cried.

"Again, I don't think it would be a holiday. Remember Abdul-Lateef? His parents sent him back home, and when he returned, he was a completely different person."

"Yeah, 'cause they had beaten the hell out of him there," Kulthum sneered.

"This conversation doesn't include you," her dad clipped at her.

"Do you know what, just stay in the kitchen while we search your room. Once we're done, and we've gotten the results of your drug test, then we'll decide what to do with you," Kulthum's mum said while massaging her temples with her fingers.

Kulthum's head was spinning. Her parents were slicing through all her options as though the pieces weren't still a part of her life. She clenched her fists and scowled. "Shouldn't I be included in the conversations about me? It's my life. Don't I get a say?"

Her mum kissed her teeth. "Kulthum, you lost that right the minute that letter fell through the box."

Allah: The One God.