nightmare to Hannah, lasted till dawn. The loud music coming from the clarions was muffled by deafening gurgling laughs and cluttering dishes. Several lord-drunk men struck the dance-poll, whistling, pulling themselves on sandy ground, raising dust. These men were Abdul’s colleagues. They were in similar positions at work and on the social ladder. They were so much-alike, that one would take them for relatives – rather than colleagues. Some kind of an indescribable expression bound them: they wore their heads slightly backwards, as if they were looking at the sky. This made their chins protrude in an arrogant way. Clinging to one another as a gang, they were dancing and indulging in cheerful pledges, keeping to that alternate pattern till the end of the bash.
Letting the dance floor to the drunken men, women flocked in several small colonies, gossiping and at times exchanging glances with the nearby bunches. Some of them were killing two birds with one stone: by pecking at the delicacies, stuffing their mouths with cakes and other eastern oily sweeties and by stuffing their ears with delightful descriptions of their companions’, who gave out all the slightest details of the well-known relatives. Every so often, they burst into laughter and trashed their thighs with greasy sticky hands. Then, not bothering much about hygiene, young mothers caught their popping in and out off-springs and fed them on some finger-smashed mixture of edible stuff. When the youngsters refused to stop or open their mouths, they were pinched ruthlessly, which only added shrieks to the cacophony around.
Hannah, on par with the rest, was rushing in and out of the kitchen: cleaning, arranging plates on the tables, and simultaneously trying to bypass those getting in her way. But there was one person she could not pass by anyhow – Ibrahim.
Hannah was standing at the sink, washing-up, fixed on the process and the sound of running water. Using the moment, he approached her noiselessly, so that she did not acknowledge this presence in the kitchen. He silently wrapped his hands around her waist from behind. The poignant scent of alcohol together with the acrid smell of sweat turned Hannah's stomach again. His huge beer gut was pressed against her fragile body. Breathing heavily, he turned her around and tried to kiss, but Hannah defended stoically by pushing him away: «You, drunkard, you… brute… lemme go! Or I will shout so loudly, that everyone will… mmmmm!..».
He covered her mouth with the right palm, squeezing her body and leaning on her. He was kissing her neck anxiously: «I am sick of waiting! You want this, don't you? You… you little cunt… You will obey me!».
Even being that drunk, he knew quite well, that he was risking: anyone could appear any moment at the door. After a while, he heard someone calling his name and this was Hannah’s salvation from the paws of the beast. Removing, he eased his tight grip, and let her fall down on the floor.
Pulling herself up and mastering her emotions, she got upright. For a moment the dimly lit kitchen felt like a deep well, where she sank hopelessly mumbling to herself: «I have a choice! Yes, I still have one!». The thought of «a deadly choice» never left her mind. Like a little bee in the bonnet, the idea of a suicide was buzzing in her head.
Any teenager in a seemingly blind-end situation, like Hannah’s, would turn to a suicidal thought. “What difference does it make”, – she would think to herself, – to live with the person you hate – and hate each day of your life – or just finish it?”. The answer was obvious. In the first case, you subject yourself to eternal suffering, whereas in the second – you end sufferings in eternity.
This hatred toward Ibrahim had a solid background. It was not because of his physical repulsiveness – far deeper! The grain of hatred was seeded, when she was six. Then Ibrahim used to live in the neighborhood and was a frequent guest at Abdul’s house. Actually, all Ibrahim’s family were welcomed whenever they wanted to entertain themselves in her parental mansion. Leila used to go extra length to support a good relationship with the future relatives. Being inattentive towards Hannah, she refused to notice, what was going on with her only daughter.
While Abdul was at work, Leila was keeping herself busy by meeting her friends at the expense of Hannah’s solitude. On one of such days, Ibrahim dropped in to see Ali who had left right before the former came. Only Hannah was there. Feeling free and pleased by such a chance, Ibrahim sat on the sofa, observing every move of the poor little girl. She was playing with her dolls, fully absorbed in her imaginary world. Then she looked at him, sitting in the opposite direction and watching her intently. Suddenly he asked: «Would you like me to show you a new game? I bet you don't know the way it is played!».
With her childish curiosity, Hannah got immediately interested in the game she had never played. She was told that it was a “secret game”. All she had to do was to keep silent. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards himself. Even now – eight years after the event – that heavy disgusting breath was fresh in her mind. He ran his hand over her legs. Then, raising her quickly, he made her sit on his lap in a way that her legs parted, baring her privates. He pressed her against his body and started rubbing violently. She didn't know what to do and begged him to let her go, as she did not like the game at all. He hushed her squeezing her mouth. The pain of rubbing caused nausea and Hannah was about to vomit when he abruptly stopped. He took her and threw onto the carpet. Hannah was in total confusion. Now a man of two meters height stood above her putting his finger to his mouth in a hushing gesture «Shhh!». Such incidents kept repeating from time to time, until Ibrahim’s family moved to a new house in the eastern part of the city.
Although Hannah was too small to give a reasonable explanation to what was happening, she was ready to do anything to avoid this game in the future. But she couldn’t tell anyone about it as she was beaten by her parents regularly into the state of total submission. She was not able to make out, what her fault was. The only thing she wanted was to avoid was being beaten. Should she tell her mum about Ibrahim? Was it her fault to play the offered game? Her little soul was tormented with these questions. Each time Hannah was beaten black and blue, she came to question what her fault was. Why was she punished? When she got brave enough to ask her mum about it, she got an answer, driven from the common wisdom of the locals: “Those, who don’t beat daughter, will beat their knees!”. It was a proverb, used by natives, and it served a paragon to her mother. Pondering over “the common sense”, Hannah made the conclusion that being a girl was a mistake in itself.
Each time Hannah encountered Ibrahim, a feeling of disgust stirred up in her system. The fifth of August was not an exception. Although she did her best to wear a mask of calmness, Hannah could not conceal the distress – so clearly it was declared on her countenance. Hardly anyone would look carefully enough to see the state she was in – especially after a sleepless night.
It was at dawn, when the phantasmagoria finally finished. The guests started leaving one by one, expressing gratitude to have been invited and granted small boxes of packed food. They praised Leila on her lavish hospitality. It was a tradition to give takeaways after parties or funerals. A little bit of everything, left on the tables untouched, should be equally distributed.
After all, there was wisdom in it: one could not eat up everything, before the products went off. Back then, it was an unimaginable luxury to throw away food. Not even a slice of stale bread, not a single edible crumb could be found in the dumps. Although Abdul's family was leading a luxurious life, which was measured by the amount of food in the fridge, even they took due care not to waste anything. If a family could afford red meat and greenies, it was equal to being wealthy. If, besides the mentioned, a family could pay visits to doctors on a regular basis, they were looked upon as almost millionaires. Whereas the middle class’ usual cuisine consisted of potatoes, bread and meat byproducts. When it came to the poor, they might get along with grains and…, well, it hurts to think about the limited diversity of their menu. To throw a bash was available only to people in uniforms with shoulder straps.
Therefore, no one would miss an opportunity to take part in such social events. It was a good chance to be fed and feed your non-invited members of the family. That night, everyone, especially Abdul's neighbors, left the house satisfied and joyous. On the coming day
