Epilogue II: The Lost Girl
Synthia
The heat was unbearable, but as I stepped into the red clay house, I was met with such relief from the conditions of the outside. The cool air met my sweaty skin as I pulled the shawl that covered my hair and sat on the nearest seat.
“You’re getting tired so easily lately,” Ahmed commented, kneeling in front of me as he took my pulse and gazed at me with the same placid eyes, the mark of a slave peeked out of his cotton shirt. “We would have to do something about that.”
I smiled. “Perhaps.”
His eyes sharply looked towards the hall, and before I knew it, he was taking my hearing aids and slipping them into his pocket as he stood in front of me. I closed my eyes and held my breath. I know what comes next, and I don’t want to see what happens next.
The
