"Let me go!" I scream, trying to wriggle out of his grip. A meaty hand on my mouth muffles any sounds of protests that I can make. With one swift motion I hear a ripping sound as he tears off my dress like every other night.

"You're married to me, you whore! Don't forget that." he hisses through clenched teeth before forcing himself on me. I cry against the gag as he pounds into me again.

--------

I look out of the window at the fog settling slowly outside the window. The pale moonlight makes rectangle shaped patterns on the wall. Lights and shadows dance on my reflection in the mirror, as I stare at the girl I have become. Bags under the eyes, bruises on my neck - I am a ghost of what I used to be. I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to see the world. But...

I glance at the clock on the wall.

12.09 am.

It's time to act. I snatch up my burkha from the dresser and wrap it on my head. On second thought I pick up the kohl and darken my eyes. A little smile creeps up my face as I tiptoe out of my room.

The corridors are empty. I move at a lazy pace towards the kitchen.

"I was feeling thirsty." I recite over in my head. I know for sure nobody would be up at this witching hour but you can never be too cautious.

I stop before the very familiar door. The sound of soft snores can be heard from the other side. I give the door a gentle push. It groans loudly, making me jump out of my skin. I ready myself to bolt. But my mother-in-law doesn't even stir.

Quietly I float to the bedside table, my bare feet making no noise. I pick up the nearest object at hand. The thin steel gleams like silver. I pad softly out of the room, closing the door behind me.

Now I dart to the opposite wing of the verandah, my feet growing slower with each step.

Was I ready to do this? Did I have a choice?

No...

My heart could as well be made of stone.

My nightly sojourn ends at a big wooden door. I pry it open, praying at every step. None of the girls in sight! Good.

The covers are drawn tightly over a human silhouette. I draw them back, holding my breath. The face is peaceful, calm. Even ferocious lions look innocent in sleep. Doesn't mean they are.

I steel my resolve and set out executing the last step of my plan. I don't mind the faint grunt and the creaking of the bed as the figure turns over. My eyes are stinging from the enormosity of what I have done. I run to my room and bolt my door as I collapse on the floor.

The sobs that has been suppressed for so long come in soundless heaves. I have even forgotten to cry.

In two minutes flat, I get up and look at the girl in the mirror. Her lips are laced with a satisfied smile. I creep into bed and surprisingly drift off into dreams.

--------

"Zarah.... Zarah..." frantic knocks on the door jolts me awake. The mellow light of the dawn is filtering through the window. Isn't it too early for the household to wake up yet?

The knocks turn to banging. Quickly I slip on my headdress and throw open the door.

"You're sleeping? How can you?" Ruksana, the one of the other mistresses screams, dragging me out.

"It's six am for heaven's sake." I feign anger.

"And our old man is dead." she blurts. She sounds kind of relieved.

A smile almost escapes my lips at her remark but I force myself to bring a few drops of crocodile tears. "Oh Allah! What will we do now?"

"Nothing. Just maybe perform some last rites and then exist as widows." she rolls her eyes. "And don't cry fake tears."

I look at her questioningly.

"Come on. Both of us know how we were forced into a marriage we never wanted."
I don't say anything as we both drag ourselves unwillingly to look at the dead body of a husband we so despised.

Ruksana makes a good show of throwing herself on him and weeping. I stand at a corner, head lowered, pretending to weep silently. Yasmin is nowhere to be seen.

The drab day melted into the night in the visits from the police and the endless stream of neighbours.

..........

"I'd like to talk to each one of you in private, please." the man in a black suit scrutinises the three of as we stand huddled in a corner.

"My husband died of a brain stroke. Why do you need to investigate? Who hired you?" Ruksana regards the man with a cold stare.

"I hired myself because the death seems unnatural." he remarks, pacing the room. "Did he have any headaches and all?"

"He was addicted to alcohol." Yasmin remarked.

"That doesn't necessarily mean stroke."

"That's a risk factor." I retort, throwing back my head and looking him straight in the eye.

He asks Yasmin to accompany him to the adjacent room, out of earshot. She shrugs and dissappears behind a curtain. In a while, she emerges with a confused expression on her face. Next, Ruksana strides in and out in a jiffy.

Finally I peep in. He motions to me to the lone chair.

"When did you last see your husband?" his eyes bore into mine. They are a steady dull brown. "At dinner." I supply smoothly.

"Did he drink?"

"Don't know."

"Are you aware that your husband had a injection mark on his neck. Very faint but it was there." he says casually.
I force my heart to stop galloping.

"Was he poisoned?" I willed some fear into my voice.

"No trace of any toxin. That's what makes it interesting."

"You're wasting your time. Maybe he did drugs. We wouldn't know." I shrug.

"Maybe you're right. It's a gone case. Why should I work for no pay?" he sighs, walking out of the room.

--------

The ground is damp from the fog as I make my way through the undergrowth. The thorns and brambles snag my dress but I don't care. Hugging my bags I rush towards the light at the end of the forest.

Soon I'll be free.

Crack!
A gunshot rings out.
I drop my bag and freeze.

"I knew you'd try to run." someone comes behind me and I feel the barrel of a pistol on my head. I know the voice.

Slowly my hands move to the pendant at my neck. A mild tug and the thin clasp breaks.

"How did you kill him, Zarah?" Detective Neel now slowly comes to stand in front of me. His gun is still aimed at my head.

"How do you think?" I chuckle. Sure death has made me fearless as I clench my fingers around the locket.

"I believe you pushed air into his veins."

"I wanted to be a doctor. They tried to break my dreams." I answer coolly.

"But why didn't he struggle?"

"I mixed Rohypnol in his drink."

"You didn't give him any drink that night." he is now circling me, like a prowling wolf.

"Yasmin did. To slip a thing into his drink wasn't that hard." my voice was ice.

"Interesting." he muses. "Where did you get the syringe?"

"You're the detective." I give a dry laugh.

"Your mother-in-law takes insulin."

A smile creeps up my face as I slowly flip open the pendant out of his sight. I always keep potassium cyanide in there. He won't have me alive.

Never...

"You're clever. I..." but before he could finish his sentence, I dive out of the range of his gun. But he's faster and grabs the hand holding the poison, jerking me back as I fall into his chest. He has my hands twisted behind my back. The poison falls somewhere in the scuffle.

"Do you think I'm a fool? I won't let you kill yourself." his voice is husky at my ear.

"Please." I whisper. "Please let me die. There's nothing left in my life anymore."
I'm aware of warm tears flowing down my cheeks. I am ashamed at myself for my weakness. I know I am strong enough to die, but not enough to continue with this cursed life.

I lunge at his gun with the other hand, catching him off guard, trying to pry it out of his hands.

" Zarah!" he slaps me hard as I stagger away from him in shock.

"Chase your dreams and never give up." his eyes are burning pits of coal. "I'll pretend I never saw you."

Abruptly he turns back, picks up his gun and strides off without another word.

I watch in awe as my captor melts away into the dark - or should I say my savior?

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