The free bird leaps

On the back of the wind

And floats downstream

Till the current ends

And dips his wings

In the orange sun rays

And dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

Down his narrow cage

Can seldom see through

His bars of rage

His wings are clipped and

His feet are tied

So he opens his throat to sing.

Her books and maps lay scattered on the bed before her as if they were the multicoloured blocks of a Tetris game. Her pencil was clenched between her teeth as she scribbled furiously with the blue Bic pen in her hand. She didn't care for the seconds that passed on the red clock besides her be nor did she care that the night was darkening to black as she tried hard to remember whatever it was that she was looking at. She thought of little else besides Mid-latitude cyclones, map distances and demographics as she paged through her textbook one last time.

In three days time, her life would change once again.

She would no longer have to wear her navy and white striped blazer nor her navy tie nor her navy, pleated skirt. Her school shoes would be given away and her white shirt would lay tucked in the back of her cupboard to be forgotten till the day she would stumble upon it by complete accident.

She didn't want to think about it though. She didn't want to imagine not waking up knowing she would see him or sit with him or hold his hands as they sat behind a white car in the parking lot or closed their eyes in a darkened auditorium. She wouldn't pass him little notes everyday nor would she gasp in surprised delight on those rare occasions that he would stuff a little squared piece of paper into the pockets of her blazer without her ever noticing. She wouldn't look up at him as she sat beside him nor would she ever smile at the hundreds of freckles all over his face.

He would be gone. He would be 4 hours away in a strange city. He would be far away from her and she would never see him again...

But she didn't want to think about it.

She had to think about Mid-latitude cyclones and map distances and demographics...

That's what had to consume her mind.

Nothing else.

Just map distances.

Demographics.

And mid-latitude cy...

She heard the metal groan of the garage as it was forced open by the remote in his hand. It could only be him. Her mother had been sleeping for hours already. She didn't know he was coming back.He had been gone for almost a month without word.

But there he was. Just below her.

The garage door clipped shut as it hit the bricks below.His car door slammed closed and his footsteps seemed to echo on the tiled floors or the passageway.She didn't care for the smudge on her notes as her pen slipped out of her hands. He was on the stairway... she could hear the lilting sounds of his shoes upon each stair..

One step.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Ten.

Thirteen.

He was closer.

Fifteen.

So close.

Eighteen.

He was almost there.

Twenty.

He was there. He had reached her. He was coming. She was so sure he was coming.

She looked down, trying hard to memorise the words before her. She gripped the orange, plastic pen in her hands till her knuckles whitened and she could feel the imprints of her fingernails upon her palms.

He was outside her door. She could hear him. she could hear his silent steps as he took one last step and she could see the slight shiver of the doorknob as his fingers gripped the gold metal eager to find her...

Mid-latitude cyclones. These are characterised by three...

Why was he torturing her like this?

Four sections. A cold sector. A warm...

What did he want from her? Knowing that he was outside was killing her- but the anticipation of his arrival into her room....

It had her feeling as if he was slowly ripping out her insides piece by piece...

A warm.. A warm sector. A warm...

She knew he was there... his hand was still on the door handle; holding it on the brink between open and closed.

A warm... cold...

And then, he was gone.

His footsteps faded away into nothing as she heard the soft thud of his door against its frame.

Mid latitude-cyclones are characterised by four sections. A cold front, a cold sector, a warm front and a warm sector.

The caged bird sings

With fearful trill

Of the things unknown

But longed for still

And his tune is heard

On the distant hill

For the caged bird

Sings of freedom...

She didn't open her eyes.

They were glued shut with his hand on her knee...

"I was gone for 24 days. I missed you every day and every night that I was gone." His hand pressed harder against her skin- he knew she was awake.

She couldn't hide from him.

"I wonder," His hand slithered upwards, "Did you miss me?"

And his tune is heard

On the distant hill

For the caged bird

Sings of freedom...

...

The exam room was dead silent. All that could be heard was the scraping of pens against paper and the scribbles of pencil lead against the thick colourful maps that covered the desks besides them. There was all sorts of equipment strew across the desks as the students punched numbers almost violently into their calculators before reaching for rulers and pieces of strings to calculate ridiculous distances between point A and point B.

2.4) Draw a free hand cross section of the landform from spot height 24 to trigonometrical beacon 290 on the topographical map.

b.) Identify the landform.

Where is the spot height and the trig beacon?

She couldn't see anything. She couldn't find anything. She couldn't identify anything.

He didn't care for the soft hair over her thighs nor did he care that she hadn't washed her hair in three days.

He touched her.

She could still feel his hand on her thigh, gripping her harder as she refused to reply to him.

Then his hand wondered beneath the soft cotton of her pyjama top. His fingertip creeped into the crevice of her bellybutton before he moved upwards...

Why couldn't she find the spot height! It had to be there!

It had to...

His lips descended on her throat- they were dry and chapped as he kissed her again and again.

Yet still, she kept her eyes shut. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to see him take what was not his to take. To take what she would never give him.

Spot height 24!

She knew this. She knew this- she had studied it so well... Why couldn't she find it! If only she could find it then...

He knew she was awake. He could feel the way her chest constricted under his hands as she clamped her thighs shut... She was awake but she was just playing with him. He knew it was a game she loved playing with him but he didn't know why she played it. He would always win.

2.6) Calculate the magnetic bearing from trigonomtrical station 94 in block E1 from Spot height 97 in block D1. Show all calculations.

Magnetic bearing is equal to... magnetic declination plus...

She hated him and she feared him in equal measure. One would never surpass the other. It would always be that she would fear him and hate him at the same time. She was not brave enough to hate him more than she feared him. She was not brave enough to face the consequences of her hatred. She wished she was but he terrified her down the core of her very being.

Magnetic declination plus true bearing.

True bearing: 189 degrees to 194 degrees.

Magnetic declination: West... add or is it subtract...

You add...

No subtract.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just remember it?

His lips were on her jaw then on her cheek.

She hated it. He made her feel as if she was impure and unclean and no matter what she did- she could never get it off of her. His stain had forever permeated her. The mark was so deep down within her skin that she could never wash it off.

His hand was still between her thighs yet it was shut. She couldn't- She wouldn't let him touch her there.

"Don't!"

3.7) Give three reasons, visible on the orthophoto map, why the specific location was selected for the cemetery.

1. It is away from residences.

2. It is...

3.

3.8) Give 4 reasons for the cultivation of rows of trees on the fruit farms in block D9 and D10.

1.

His lips were on hers.

It was wrong. It was ugly... she hated it. She hated it so much. She could feel herself shiver in disgust at his ministrations. Both his hands were on her legs, prying them apart. His tongue had invaded her mouth. She could feel it.... It was heavy and sickening and his grip on her legs were so tight, they were beginning to go numb. She couldn't let him... she just couldn't but he had.

He had succeeded...

She stood up, startling the examiners as she covered her mouth with her hand trying to hold in her vomit before she ran out of the room.

But she didn't even realise that he had been staring at her for almost 10 minutes, watching from behind his glasses as she fidgeted with the pen in her hands and tapped her feet almost manically against the hard, wooden floors. And when she ran out, she didn't know that he almost stood up and ran out behind her.

...

"Are you feeling better?" They had finished their exam almost an hour ago yet she had chosen to stay in the school for just a little while longer. She didn't realise that Riaz had chosen to stay behind with her until she heard his voice from besides her.

"Yes, thank you." She smiled up at him, shifting a little as he settled down besides her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I think I ate something wrong this morning," Tasneem replied softly, leaning back against the car. "What's going to happen when school is over?"

Her eyes were on him, memorising the shape of his face, the curve of his jaw, the colour of his lips and the slight slant of his green eyes beneath his frameless glasses. She would remember him and keep his memory in the deepest corner of her heart when he would never destroy it.

"We'll leave."

She smiled at him, moving just a fraction of inch closer to him. "Stay. Just for a little while longer?"

He nodded his head, shifting just a little closer to her till they barely touched...

But that was all they needed.

And it was enough.

A/N- There'll be one more chapter before Riaz leaves but I promise I have a little surprise for you...

Also, the poem used is called A Caged Bird by Maya Angelou.