Sajdaa Taha

The following week, I was back at school. It was utterly dreadful. My heart still hurt as memories of my uncle filled my conscious mind. I knew I couldn't keep avoiding my responsibilities in life, so my parents sent me back. I hadn't spoken to Malik after our little chat. He didn't even try to contact me either. For some reason, I felt disappointed.

I shouldn't be feeling this way, but I did. Malik was no good for me. He committed Zina (unlawful sexual intercourse). Zina in Islam was one of the gravest sins. In fact, in the Qur'an, Zina was mentioned right after murder. That's how terrible of a sin it is.

However, just because someone committed a sin, especially one as bad as Zina, it didn't mean that they would go to Jahannam (hell). Allah was Al-Ghufur (all forgiving). If a soul truly regretted their actions and sincerely repented, then Allah would forgive them. Maybe Malik regretted his actions as well.

I sat down at my desk, pulling out my notes for calculus. Alisha and I didn't share too many classes together. Muslims were a minority in my school. It made sense since people around here hated Muslims.

Students started to pile into the classroom. Girls wearing tight clothes while the guys tried their best to act ghetto. Their pants were low. I cringed. Could they not pull their pants up?

One of the guys, Jay, and his group of friends walked towards my desk. Jay was the school star. He was captain of the basketball and football team. He thought he was so attractive just because of his social status. He was the typical white boy with blonde hair and cold blue eyes. I leaned my cheek against my palm. Here we go again, I thought as Jay leaned over my desk.

"Hey, any new bomb making plans?" he asked, a smug look on his face.

His friends snickered.

"Get original. This is getting kinda old," I said while examining my nails.

He rolled his eyes before smirking, "Wanna hear a joke?"

"Not really."

"What do you call a Muslim shrink?"

I stayed silent. He just doesn't know when to shut up.

"A terrorpist," he said before erupting into laughter. His friends chuckled at the joke.

"You know," I started, "if all Muslims were terrorists, you would all be dead by now."

He glanced at his friends, amused. "She just admitted she was a terrorist."

I rolled my eyes. "Not like white people never did anything wrong. Unless you forgot about slavery and Klu Klux Klan."

"Those don't represent white people or Americans," he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "They were just crazy."

I tilted my head at him. "So then why does ISIS and Al-Qaeda represent Muslims when terrorists are also mentally unstable?"

His smirk had fell. Instead it was replaced with a dark menacing glare. "You Muslims think you're so smart, don't you?" he seethed.

I shrugged, "I mean I just debunked your stereotype, so yeah I'd like to think I'm pretty smart."

His face turned red.

"Cat got your tongue?" I grinned.

He leaned in close, his fingers gripping my desk until his knuckles turned white. "I don't get why you Muslims run away from your countries just to complain about America. Stop trying to make us follow Shariah laws," he gritted out.

"When did I try to make you follow Shariah laws? Besides, Western countries oppress Muslims, but you wouldn't know that. Media has brainwashed you," I muttered the last part as I leaned back in my seat.

"No it hasn't."

"Oh?" I raised my eyebrows at him. "Did you know that Western countries are the reason for the Israeli and Palestinian conflict? Did you know that Osama Bin Laden used to be considered a hero here because he fought with the United States during the Cold War and the Iraq War? Oh what about how Western countries gave opposition groups weapons and training them? You know all that?"

Silence.

"Next time, learn some history before debating because, honey, you need to go and educate yourself," I taunted.

He opened his mouth to say more but the bell cut him off. Jay and his friends gave me one last glare before going to their seats in the back of the room. I mentally cheered for myself. I wasn't going to let anyone get away with insulting Islam and Allah. People could call me whatever they wanted, but I wouldn't allow anyone to insult Allah.

* * * *

It was around lunchtime when I caught up with Alisha. We only had one class together and we were just a few of the Muslim kids at this school. We were also the only hijabies. It felt odd sometimes, knowing that I stood out the most in a crowd.

It got lonely when I couldn't connect with anyone because they all already labeled me a killer, a murderer, a terrorist. I wasn't their stereotypes, but Allah is the best of planners. I mean it was definitely fun to taunt people who had strong prejudices.

She noticed my expression and smirked, "What was the terrorist joke this time?"

"A terrorpist," I laughed. The joke wasn't funny, it was the idea that they thought it was funny.

She shook her head amused, "They act like we care about their jokes. Honestly, get some better jokes about Muslims."

"I don't think they have the mental capacity to come up with new ones," I shrugged.

"I'm going to assume you put them in their places, yes?"

I winked at her, "You know me too well."

We decided to spend our lunch in an empty classroom. Alisha and I were talking about our day. It was relaxing. Alisha was there for me in the most difficult times. It was a blessing to have her in the same school as me. Yes, we got teased a lot for our hijab, but it just made our iman (faith) stronger.

"Sajdaa can I ask you something?" Alisha's voice broke me out of my thoughts.

"Shoot."

She bit her lip. Her brown eyes expressing her concern. "What's the thing between you and Officer Malik?"

I felt an icy feeling crawl up my spine. I didn't want to talk about him. Somewhere in my heart I felt a little betrayed by him. I felt like he cared, yet now I think he's just using me. I wasn't dumb. The thing that happened in his office was a wake up call to me. There was no room for romances in my life especially with a guy like Malik.

"Nothing," I replied.

She deadpanned, "How stupid do you think I am?"

"I'm telling you it's nothing. He's just an incompetent cop."

A slow smile carved it's way onto her lips. "You like him," she stated.

I scoffed, "As if. He's just a bug that I can't squash."

"Sajdaa! You like him. Stop lying to yourself."

"I hate him and he hates me."

"Then why did he look at you like you were the only girl in the room?" she asked, softly.

I stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

"He cares about you. Look how hard he's trying to help you," she continued.

"Alisha," My voice oddly calm. "Can we not talk about him?"

She sighed. "I know he's a Muslim."

I looked at her, confused.

"I saw the picture on his desk."

"Oh."

"Just remember your boundaries in Islam. He clearly is interested in you, but you know dating is haram (forbidden)," she said while looking away from me.

"Don't worry I didn't forget."

She turned to look at me, "But at least give him an opportunity to help you in this case. He really does mean well."

I swallowed, but nodded anyway.

* * * *

I sat behind my desk. It was the last class of the day. We were writing an essay, so the entire room was silent. I was tapping my pencil against my desk as I stared at the clock. I still had half an hour before the bell rang.

I sighed, disappointed, and continued writing. I noticed that the boy who usually sat next to me was missing. That's weird. He took school more seriously than I did. I shook my head. He's probably sick.

Alisha's words were in my mind. She was right. I can't just ignore Malik forever, but I wasn't ready to face him again. He sounded so fine with idea of Zina (unlawful sexual intercourse). It bothered me to no ends. I couldn't even come to terms with it. I looked out the window.

Why was Malik so confusing?

Suddenly, the door to the classroom opened. I turned towards the door. Three officers stood at the door, including Malik. I tilted my head at them. What were they doing here?

My teacher stood up to greet them. Just as she was about to speak, the officer with jet black hair spoke up.

"We're looking for Sajdaa Taha," he demanded, his cold gaze boring into my teacher's eyes.

"She's right there," my teacher pointed me out.

The black haired officer nodded at Malik, who took a couple steps towards me.

"Sajdaa, we need you for questioning at the station," he said. The usual amused glint in his eyes was gone.

"Why?" I asked, suspicious.

"A boy went missing."

I gulped. This can't be good, I thought.

Assalamualaikum everyone!

Guys, life has been pretty damn hard right now. My uncle's death turned out to be a murder, his wife is plotting against my family, and my grandma, who we were forced to send back due to the chaos, got beaten up by my mother's cousins and uncles.

I will continue with the regular updates, despite the chaos. Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow.