NOTE: Chapter 11, even though it's split into two parts, is still quite long. I'd really appreciate it if you read all of it though, because there are some important discussions in here.

WARNING: UPSETTING AND GRAPHIC CONTENT.
Very detailed descriptions of assaúlt and islam*phobic language.

_

Zee waited outside the local Mosque for her friend, Zaira.
She first met Zaira at Mosque lessons.
Zaira went to school in another area, but there was no Mosque in her neighbourhood, so she attended this one.
The pair used to have Mosque lessons together, every day after school. However, when both of her parents became injured, Zee stopped attending. She still met up with Zaira occasionally though.

"Zee!
Sorry I took so long, I know you hate it when the others try to make conversation with you."

"Nah, it's a right laugh.
I love hearing how Imran finally made a round roti that wasn't burnt", she replied, sarcastically.

Zaira playfully rolled her eyes, and lightly punched Zee's arm.
She waved goodbye to one of her friends, and started walking with Zee.

"I like your hijab, by the way", said Zee. "Neon pink suits you."

"Thanks.
Miss Khadija says the pink is too distracting, but she did say it suited me as well", she said.

A group of runners ran by, and Zaira clutched her Qur'an closer to her chest. She never liked to put it back in her bag after her lessons.
She couldn't explain it, but holding her Qur'an close to her heart always made her feel at peace.

"Hey listen, I can't hang out at the park today.
I've got to grab some fruit then go home", said Zee.

"Oh, right.
Well, do you wanna hang out tomorrow?"

"Uh, I'll have to check if I'm free first."

Zaira frowned.
"You're always busy these days.
You spend more time with that other girl than me."

"Aurelia?
She's my best friend.
Plus, we go to the same school.
Pretty hard not to spend so much time with her."

"And what about that boy?
Map, or something?"

Zee frowned.
"Come on, Zaira.
You know his name is Atlas."

"You're right, I'm sorry.
I'm just being stupid.
There aren't a lot of Muslims in my neighbourhood, so I really look forward to spending time with you."

Zee's face softened.
"I get it.
Hey, there's a football tournament at our school in a few weeks.
Why don't we meet up during that?"

"But you'll miss the game."

"Don't like sports anyway."

"Alright, yeah.
Sounds good."

"Great.
Now let's hurry up and get to the shops before all the good fruit is gone."

◆◆◆

After meeting up with a friend, and losing track of the time, Zaira wanted to hurry home, as it was getting dark.
Her usual bus stop was in the process of being removed, so she had to walk to a different bus stop.

There was hardly anyone around, and the area would've been pitch black if it wasn't for the two streetlamps and corner shops that had their lights on.

All she could hear was the faint whooshing of the wind, and the rustling of leaves.
A feeling of uneasiness crawled all over Zaira's body, and she clutched her Qur'an closer to her chest.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed two boys across the road.
They were leaning against the window of a bank, but their eyes were on Zaira.
One of the boys noticed Zaira looking, and stood up straight.

Panicked, Zaira quickly looked away, her heart thumping rapidly.
She quickened her pace, until she was almost jogging.

She could barely hear anything over the sound of her blood rushing to her ears.
She could just about make out the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer.

She braced herself to start running, but stopped when someone jumped in front of her.
She let out a gasp, making the person smirk.

"Aw, what's wrong sweetheart?", he taunted.

One of the other boys joined him, and started laughing at Zaira.
He pointed at her.

"She's shaking like a little b*tch."

"L-Look, j-just leave me alone.
I just want to go ho–"

"What the f*ck is that?", asked one of the boys, before snatching the Qur'an out of her hands.

"No, please, give that back!"

The boy started flicking through it, not bothering to be gentle.
He pinched some of the pages to help flick them, snorting when they ripped.

Zaira's eyes widened.
"Hey!
Don't–"

"Pretty little turban you got on there", teased one of the boys, before laughing loudly.

Zaira turned her face away.

"It's a headscarf, not a turban."

"Whatever."

"Why don't you show us your hair then?"

"You can't ask me that!"

"Why not?", questioned one of the boys.

"What 'av you got under there?
You got a b*mb under there?"

"You curry eating piece of sh*t", spat one of the boys.

"Go off somewhere and marry your brother you inbr*d–"

An older boy joined them, and the other two boys fell silent.
He saw the Qur'an in the boy's hand, and grabbed it, his eyes full of anger.

"Why the f*ck are you still talkin' to this terr*rist f*cker?"

He threw the Qur'an on the ground, and Zaira felt her heart shatter.
The same book she kept high up in her glass cabinet at home.
The same book she held so close to her heart.

Instinctively, she knelt down to pick it up.
Without warning, the older boy shoved his knee into her stomach, making her double over in pain.

Without missing a beat, the other boys started kicking her too.
Sharp bursts of pain made her scream, the guttural sound filling the air.
She felt her body being flipped over, and her eyes met with the sky.
Her eyes welled up as the pain became unbearable.

She tried to pull herself up, but she was surrounded.
She lifted her arms to cover her face, but one of the boys pressed his foot against them, pinning her down.

"Oi, rip it off!", yelled one of the boys.

The youngest boy reached down and grabbed her scarf, yanking at it.
Zaira felt her throat close up as the boy's sheer force meant that the fabric was pressing down on her neck.
He kept pulling, and pulling, leaving Zaira terrified that he wouldn't stop until he took her head off with it.

"P-Please s-stop...", she begged, tears staining her face.

"Shut up!", hissed the older boy.

"You're the reason none of us can get jobs!
Wearin' your f*ckin' burkas and making us change how we do things in our country!
Changing our way of life!"

Zaira wanted to push his hands away. She wanted to get up.
But she couldn't.
She just looked up at the sky, as sharp shards of pain, and more aching, long-lasting bursts of pain attacked her body.

"Allaahummak-fineehim bimaa shi’ta."

She whispered the words her father told her to say whenever she was fearful of something or someone.

"Allaahummak-fineehim bimaa shi’ta."

The sound of her hijab's fabric tearing was masked by the grunting of the boys.
One of the boys spat on it, before throwing it to the ground.

"Allaahummak-fineehim bimaa shi’ta."

They grabbed her bag and started rummaging through it.
They opened her pencil case, and threw the scissors at her, narrowly missing her arm.

"Allaahummak-fineehim bimaa shi’ta."

"Cr*p, someone's coming!"

The boys started running.

"Allaahummak-fineehim bimaa shi’ta."

The oldest boy turned back and marched towards a shivering Zaira. She saw his feet beside her, and braced herself for the impact.
She heard him spit, and then felt a thud beside her.

"Allaahummak-fineehim bimaa shi’ta."

The boy swung his leg, his thick shoe colliding with Zaira's ribcage, and she felt a stinging pain, followed by a crunching sound.
The force of the swing made Zaira twist onto her side.

"Allaahummak-fineehim bimaa shi’ta."

He rushed over to the other side, and kicked her once more, right in the stomach.
Zaira let out a loud groan, the noise bleeding out of her.

"Allaahummak-fineehim bimaa shi’ta."

She coughed and spluttered, blood spurting out of her mouth.

"Oi!
Get away from her!"

◆◆◆

The following day, Zee had just finished her final lesson of the day—Health and Social Care, and was on her way home.

"Zee!", called out Aurelia.
"Wanna grab some food?"

"Uh, maybe later.
I've got a lot of homework to do."

"Ah, you're a right goody-two-shoes aren't you?"

Zee chuckled.
"Just don't wanna fall behind, that's all."

"Yeah, don't wanna end up like Eloise."

"What?"

"Listen, I love the girl to pieces, but it has to be said, she's not the smartest cookie in the jar, is she?"

"Having bad grades doesn't mean she's dumb."

"No, of course it doesn't.
I wish schools would focus less on academic excellence anyway", said Aurelie.
She raised an eyebrow at Zee's response though.
"It's not like you to defend someone you aren't particularly close to."

Zee shrugged.
"Just callin' it how I see it."

Zee's phone vibrated, and she pulled it out of her pocket.
Her eyes widened when she read the message, and her heart sank when she got to the end.

"Zee?
Zee, what's wrong?", asked a concerned Aurelia.

"It's... it's my friend.
Zaira.
She was attacked yesterday."

Time seemed to move at an alarmingly slow pace as Zee waited for the lift to open on to Zaira's ward.
As soon as the doors opened, Zee ran out, pushing past several people.

A woman stood by the foot of Zaira's hospital bed.
If completely broken was a
person—she'd be it.

"Mrs Ali?", called out Zee, but her voice trembled as she spoke.

The woman's eyes widened when she saw Zee, but then her face softened.
She hurried over to her, before taking Zee's hands in hers.

"Zalim... thank you for coming.
I know Zaira would love to see a friendly face."

"How is she?"

"She came out of surgery a few hours ago."

"Surgery?", questioned a shocked Zee.

Mrs Ali nodded.
"Her ribs were broken, and she had internal bleeding, so they had to operate immediately."

Zee froze, unable to think of something to say that could accurately communicate the way she was feeling.

"Her father is outside, but doesn't know the way.
Will you please stay with her while I go and get him?"

Zee nodded.
"Y-Yes, of course."

Zaira had her blanket tucked right under her chin, covering her body.
She looked so fragile.
Her chest was barely rising as she breathed.
She looked drained.
Emotionally, physically—no energy was left.

"Z-Zaira?"

After a brief moment of stillness, Zaira opened her eyes.
Zee exhaled softly, and she moved closer to her.

"Zaira... your Mum's just gone to get your Dad."

"Th-throat hurts..."

"Oh, um, do you need water?
Are you allowed to drink water yet?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I... your Mum told me you were attacked.
Zaira, I'm so sorry.
I know that doesn't help, but, really, I am."

"It was because I'm Muslim.
Did Mum tell you that?"

"No, but I guessed", she said, before shaking her head.
"Just when you think Marleyport can't get any worse."

"I-I can't get it out of my head.
The way they were just kicking and kicking and kicking and–"

"Hey, Zaira, no... don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Go down that wormhole.
Don't trap yourself in that awful memory."

"Yeah but it's not just a memory, is it? It's my life.
The stares, the muttering under their breath—I can just about tolerate those. But there will always be someone lurking in the shadows, ready to hurt me.
I don't know if I can live with that."

"Zaira...

"I can't do it."

"Zaira, I know it's hard.
But we can't let those idiots win–"

"Wait, 'we'?
What are you talking about, Zee?"

"I-I just meant–"

"You know what they did to me?
They k*cked me and tore my Qur'an! They pulled my hijab off, Zee!
They saw me as a target, because I chose to wear a hijab.
Don't sit there and act like you know what it feels like Zee—you don't wear one!
You weren't a target."

_______

Translations

Roti: chapati

starryeyedturtle

DoodleYeet

LeMystical-Puffle

1-800-SHAWNHUNTER-

Tornado-Jockey