13
Azadah wished she had made different choices.
Wished she hadn’t paid the bribe to get the job of cooking and cleaning for the Americans. Wished she hadn’t helped them. Wished she hadn’t befriended Geti in the market. And wished she hadn’t spit in the guard’s face. Already her left eye was swelling shut as Geti tut-tutted about the kitchen and then smeared on a cool salve against the rising heat.
“Nice to see a girl with character. Not very common anymore. Women bareheaded in public. I don’t like it. The western music they play. I like that not at all.”
Azadah reached up and felt her own bare head, then slid her hand down to her neck where the brute of a guard had grabbed her. No scarf. Her mother’s scarf, the last she had of her family’s possessions was gone. It was—
“Here you are,
