Voice Recording 06

Recorded: 29th July Monday

Hana...

I've been trying to do this for the past two days but it just does not come out right. I'll let this be the final one because you're around at home more these days and I'm running out of time. I should tell this to you right now in real time, face to face but I can't, not when you're expecting your result in two days. I can't do this to you now not when you're expecting a top position on the board.

I don't think I can even do this on recording.

But here goes.

I made an Instagram account. Not my own. I made yours. By your name, your profile picture, your photos uploaded on it too. I made it in November last year when you turned seventeen because when I saw your birthday celebration pictures on Zimal's Instagram, I was enchanted. You didn't like celebrating birthdays, in fact you didn't for many years until college that is, when your group of friends was big on celebrations and themed parties and themed cakes.

Hana, you looked absolutely kawaii in that picture, standing behind a tall white cake adorned with buttercream roses, deep pink to bright pink, fading to a softer pink as they went up the cake. You wore a white top with floral embroidery and jeans underneath. Your side swept bangs fell on your eyes ever so delicately and your cheeks were smiling, you looked slender in the picture too. But most of all, you looked happy, you looked ethereal.

So why didn't you show off to the world?

When I ran the idea of you and a perfect Instagram account by Nashwa, she told me it was your decision, and for once a decent decision too because every other rich girl in the world is a blogger these days on Instagram, putting up her own pictures in colourful dresses and a useless seemingly thoughtful caption underneath.

Nashwa's right about that. We all want to be seen in this world so we put up ourselves for show. We all want acceptance, attention and validation from everyone around us, so we make our lives and skills public.

Nashwa told me I could make a blog for myself, tell the world about my CP and how I manage through but that's also cliché. I don't want my CP to define me. And I'm just wasting oxygen nowadays. Besides, everyone puts up their shortcomings as a way to seek attention too. Someone has mild depression, someone exaggerates their insomnia, someone else uses their common cold to draw traffic and likes. No one's actually doing anything, just promoting brands and earning from them, nothing more. It's like they're all halted in space, floating in nothingness, just showing off.

But that sounded good to me.

So I did what all pretty rich girls do, I made an account by your name, I made it public, I blocked Nashwa, all your friends I knew of and all family members too because they always question and poke about what's none of their business. I started posting your pictures on it with captions and in a month I had a hundred followers. They were too many spammers though and desperate boys too so I turned the account to private and accepted every teenager's follow request if their bio seemed decent enough.

And where did I get your pictures from you ask? Firstly it was taking screenshots from Zimal's account until I saw you typing your password on your gmail account one day and noticed the keys you had pressed. The pattern retained in my memory and I soon figured it out. Of course, like most people, you used the same password for every account so I used it to get into your Snapchat. I found all your selfies and pictures on it in Memories.

It was a real treasure chest.

But tell me, Hana, why don't you put up those photos for show?

You're so pretty, yes a little on the chubby side but you're showing collarbones and jawlines now, why hold back? Why don't you like to draw attention to yourself, why don't you want people to desire you, admire you, adore you, follow you on social media and wish to be you.

Is it because of me and Nashwa?

Did we make you hate you?

Anyhow, my focus isn't on prying anymore, or wanting to know you better. Today I just want to tell you what I've landed myself and you into.

I made the account and I used it like my own too. I was following celebrities, Turkish male actors, I was following fan pages of my anime and Korean shows, I commented on them too and there was one post about Tony Stark, you know, Iron Man from Avengers and a hot debate going on underneath, I just couldn't hold back from putting my own thoughts there.

It took me a lot of effort to type a comment. Usually I speak it to my tablet, let it change to words, then I correct the words it has misinterpreted, copy the text and paste it to the comment section and then post.

Yes, using technology is also a very difficult task for me. Existing itself is difficult for me.

Anyhow, that's how he found me. Waheed. Waheed Qayser.

He replied to my comment there and I suppose it must have been completely random too but then we started a conversation on that comment only until he privately messaged me saying why talk there and not here? I was impressed by his interest in Avengers so I accepted his message request. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should never have.

By this stage too, we weren't following each other but we were talking, we talked so much about Avengers, then X-men, he didn't watch Korean shows and he didn't watch anime, he's older than me, he's around your age I think, a little bit older because he's in university. He does watch Game of Thrones and we discussed that too a little bit only I hadn't watched the show much because too many nude scenes and vulgarity. I urged him to watch Ertugrul and he agreed but said it would take him time to watch it since he's busy and takes his studies very seriously. That got me, Hana, it did. We were following each other then.

I don't know what I was thinking those days, perhaps it was the loneliness again, Nashwa was focused on exams for once, so were you and I liked talking to Waheed, I only sent him voice notes because I couldn't type of course. He listened and he sent emojis and he advised me to try Marvel comics too and I did. In this time I completely lost myself in him and the comics and more of my shows.

When these three things became my only world, it was unlikely for my rationale to differ between what was right and what was wrong. We became good friends, the way I could talk to him about a world different from this tragic one, the way we'd discuss characters and why Peter the star lord was or was not to be blamed for Thanos killing half the people on Earth. When you can connect with someone like that, Hana, share mutual interests, trust comes by on its own.

It slowly started getting personal too. In between all the fictional world talks he started asking me where I studied, what I studied and what I planned for my future. He was surprised to hear I wasn't pursuing law like my father and mentioned then how he knew our father because he too was pursuing law.

It started from there, when I posted a photo of you from the gym, he asked me privately how I managed it all, studies, movies, gym, he was so subtle, Hana, I never saw it coming at all. I told him it was difficult indeed but I wanted to lose weight and be at the top with my grades and if I wanted it enough I could have it. He said he admired my spirits and that he could help me keep track, it is always easier when a partner is there to motivate you and I don't know why, I don't know why Hana, I gave into him.

I sent him pictures of you every other day, fresh gym selfies and at first his replies were only clapping emojis, saying keep it up girl which eased the initial discomfort in my heart, I was glad he wasn't a pervert but then it became surprised emoji with its mouth shaped o and him saying, I can already see the difference, H! although it had been just three weeks and then I started sending other selfies too, you with your hair wet after a shower, you trying out different filters on Snapchat asking him if they looked silly and he only said don't be silly you look adorable and I don't know, Hana, I really don't know what joy, what pleasure I found in his replies, something very scandalous and immoral purred in my chest and I found myself grinning at my own mirror too.

What was wrong with me?!

But what went wrong after that ... oh, Hana, I can't even push myself to say it.

Three weeks back, he started responding less to me. I craved his attention so I constantly peeved him by asking what was wrong, was I boring him or did he really lose himself in Ertugrul like I always knew he would until he told me it was an assignment and part of his private studying too that had him stuck. He needed some real resources but just couldn't get them.

For a week it went on like that, me sending so many voice notes, him just replying with hmm and a thumbs up mostly which irked me. It disturbs me now how much I got used to him, until finally he opened up and asked me if I was willing to help and I, wanting back the fun and loving Waheed told him of course I would.

He told me he needed a file from my father's cases, it was a sensitive case but it had some information regarding another case that Waheed required. I was taken aback, he was asking me to do something behind my father's back, I couldn't possibly so I asked him why he wouldn't directly ask my father and he said he wouldn't dare, the case is indeed sensitive, he wouldn't want to arouse suspicion, he just needed a minor detail for another case.

Fishy.

I told him I don't go to Baba's office, I couldn't get the file for him even if I wanted to and he said your father wouldn't keep it at his office, he'd keep it somewhere safer like at his home or somewhere.

I was stuck.

I tried dodging, I really did but he wouldn't have it until he showed his real face.

Hana, he sent me photoshopped pictures of you. He did.

I'm not even going to ask you how you feel about me now because I've already imagined it all in my head, already given myself looks full of hatred, loathing, revulsion and disgust every time I accidentally look at myself that is. I hate me too, by all means, you should too.

But Hana, he's put me in a very difficult situation. Do I betray our father, hurt him possibly with his career too or do I protect your integrity? The one that I have put at risk. What do I do?

Because even if I delete that account now, even if I report him to cybercrime, would that hold him from leaking those pictures anyhow? Even if I do give him the file, wouldn't this just become a circle then, him blackmailing, me giving in every time?

But I'm wasting time even now, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I will do. I could kill myself, suicide does not sound so bad at all, I do deserve Hell for what I have done to you but it wouldn't take you out from the quicksand I've pushed you in. I've been praying to Allah, Hana, but would He listen to me after all I have done? And do my prayers even count, Hana, when I can't raise my finger in tashahhud at times, my hand just not complying?

I don't know, Hana, I just don't know.

I don't know how I could possibly let this happen, I don't know how to tell you about it, I don't know what to do about it, I don't even know what's happening to me, I've been blacking out since yesterday, small moments of darkness in my memory.

Am I dying? Is my cerebral palsy intensifying somehow as a punishment to what I've done to you? I'll gladly take the punishment, Hana, even though it terrifies me the way the darkness keeps consuming me, I gain back consciousness with my heart beating so fast, it makes me fear death but how do I save you?

What do I do, Hana? How do I come to you?

I'm crying right now and you can hear me if you're listening to me but is it too late now? Have I really killed myself? Are you all looking through my stuff to know why I did it? Is that how you got here, is this my last recording, is this going to be my suicide note? And definitely by now Waheed must have leaked those photos and who knows, I might have already given the file to him by sending pictures of it I suppose.

But I'm still standing in the present, Hana, drowning in regret.

But is regret ever enough?

Is this how I go?

A villain in your story?

I wish I wasn't born, Hana. I wish I never existed at all. Or even if I did, I wasn't just cursed with CP, I was completely brain damaged, I was completely insane, I wish I wasn't capable of doing this to you.

But I have and my God, I can't live with myself anymore.

And the worst part, I can't just stop it, I can't just end my breathing, slit my wrists and be done with life, let the calamity in my veins pour out with my dark and doomed blood.

Because you'd still be hurt, Hana. You'd still be hurt. Those pictures would still get out, you'd be humiliated, you'd be made a show of in public.

Don't let them write my name on my grave, Hana.

Make them write a single word:

Tragedy.

That is all Hanaan Junaid has ever been.

Oh, Hana, I'm so so sorry...

For being your tragedy.

We may not even meet in Heaven for I am surely going to Hell.

It already burns ...

Hana ....

Ana uhibbuki.

I am so so sorry.

and that was Hanaan Junaid for you! let's all take a moment and thank Allah SWT for perfectly functioning hands and feet. we're really not grateful enough.

until monday, with part three and some of the longest (most eventful) chapters ever, 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒶𝒽𝒾𝓁.