Page 19 of Savage Protector

“Arguing? What about?”

“I was hoping you might tell me that.”

I remember very clearly what we argued about, but my instinct is to play it down. Our ‘disagreement’ was a family matter, not for discussion with outsiders. “He…he gets angry. He likes to have his own way,” I murmur. “I’m not always very obedient, and he does become…upset.”

“We couldn’t hear what was said, but we all had the distinct impression he was threatening you.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think he…”

“That’s how it looked.”

“He gets exasperated, that’s all. He wants us all to do the right thing, to not bring shame on the family. The community is, well, there are expectations.”

“Yes, I can imagine. He hit you, Leila. Twice. That’s how you got your concussion.”

I shake my head, as though refusing to admit it will make the unthinkable go away. “That’s impossible.”

“It happened. We have it on video.”

“No. I…I don’t believe you. I need you to leave now. I’m tired.”

“I’ll leave if you want, but Iwillbe back. This isn’t going away. We need to work out what to do now, if it isn’t safe for you to go home.”

“Not safe? It is, I know it is. My uncle will calm down, and?—”

“Leila, would you like to see the video for yourself? Then you can decide what you want to do.”

I level my gaze at him. He’s not backing off, and neither will I. I have no option but to go along with his suggestion; maybe I can still explain it all away. “Very well. Show me.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket and taps a few keys before handing it to me. “The first forty seconds or so are where most of the action is.”

I watch in silence as the drama unfolds. My uncle, my father, my cousins. Uncle Abdul is yelling at me, I can hear him again, accusing me of being a whore, a disgrace, a blight on my family. They would be better off without me, bringing shame down on them. The community is disgusted, outraged, but not just with me. With him, also, as head of the family, for allowing this to happen. And he cannot permit that.

I do try to protest, to explain, yet again, that I cannot marry Arif. Apart from the fact that he is over twice my age and lives in Islamabad, he’s my uncle. Abdul’s brother. It would not work. My life is here, in the UK. I don’t want to move to Pakistan where I know no one. I’m planning to study, medicine, I hope. I want to have a good job, not be a housewife and produce endless children. I don’t care if Arif is wealthy, a respected man of business. I cannot bear it, and I won’t do it. It’s impossible.

I’ve explained this countless times over the last six months, since my uncle first raised this ridiculous notion. He doesn’t listen. He never listens, not to me, nor to my father who is as opposed as I am, but Papa is a weak man. My mother, Abdul’s sister, is in agreement with the proposed match. A good union, as she sees it. It will make sure our wealth stays with our family. We will have the respect of the community, and nothing matters more than that. She is convinced I can learn to be happy, content, at least. Love may come later, it often does.

The opening sequence on the small screen concludes with my uncle lifting me bodily and hurling me over the rail. I can be seen struggling in the churning water while they all gaze down at me. No one so much as attempts to rescue me. The boat swerves away and disappears in moments, leaving me behind.

I drop the device onto the coverlet.

The man, Zayn, picks it up and pockets it again. “Did that look like an accident to you, Leila?”

My throat seizes up. I can’t answer. I have no need to.

He reaches for my hand. “So, you see now why I’m worried about simply sending you home? That was an honour killing, wasn’t it? Or, more accurately, a botched attempt at one.”

“I don’t… I never thought…”

“I get that. But it happened. And it will happen again. If for no better reason than they need to keep you quiet. You can’t go home, Leila.”

“No. I know that.” If I’m honest with myself, I think I’ve always known that. “But…where else can I go?”

“We’ll work something out. First, though, can you tell me what that was all about? What happened to get your family so worked up?”

“Does it matter? They had no right to…to do that.”

“I agree, but it might help us to work out what to do next.”

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