She was back.

For reasons unbeknownst to Amani, she was back in her mother's room. A step or two away from her mother in nightwear. Pineapples, tangerines, and musk, all bashed her nostrils. It was home. She was home.

In utter disbelief, she abruptly threw herself to her mother who moved away, shaking her head, her eyes locked in on the piece of clothing she was folding.

"Why are you so nagging, Amani?" Sweet. A tumble of honey into Amani's ears. Lifelong yearn for the voice awakening her unquenchable thirst.

From where it all began, Amani was tired of everything, searching for closure.

"Mommy."

"I have heard enough." A warning underlined Mommy's stern voice, a rain of anguish falling on Amani's soul. Her hands trembled, raising to splay one on her chest and one towards her mother. Bewitching as always. Mommy's amber skin has lightened a shade up and features more popped than ever. It was...she was glowing. A glow Amani had never been confronted with. It was almost too much, glaring at her sunburnt skin and compelling her to surrender. It'd be her delight. To be consumed by light. Not the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole at the sound of her mother's next words. "You have it all wrong. Why can't you see? I can't leave your father. I love him."

"He abuses you!" Amani had no recollection of signaling her mouth to speak, nor did she expect the walls to rattle at its intensity. "Mommy," her feet involuntary approached her mother. She was walking without knowing, what was wrong with her? "What does he have you on?" Why were they talking about Daddy? Amani had missed her mother, why were they wasting time on dead people?

"Stop it!" Amani was shoved. Her balance withering until her fingers betrayed her rope of hope, tumbling to her side and crashing with a crack.

It had never been a thought; being scared of Daddy for her well-being. It was her mother she was terrified for. How could the woman not see the damage he was doing?

A river of fear snatched Amani into its depth at the absence of her mother immediately after an eye blink "Mum!" She grumbled from the back of her throat, a heavy feeling settling in her stomach, weighing her down. "Mommy!" Her raucous voice searched again, her eyes frantically flying around.

Her scout yielded something more daunting. Alarms blaring in her head and chilling her off.

Headless. A man with a bloody knife stuck to his chest marched towards her and all she could do was stay rooted to her spot, a force constraining her to the spot while her mind and body raged war against themselves, fruitlessly urging Amani to bolt.

Amani's saliva dried up as a head grew on who she'd realized to be Daddy. Once full-headed, his shrill voice accused. "You killed your mother!" sending his arm towards the right side of the room; her mother's comatose figure in a pool of blood with people she recalled to be her siblings.

Amani screeched, a suddenly flexible hand of hers flying to cover her mouth as she watched her mother lifeless on the floor while Nadeen and Walid tried compressions on the poor woman.

"Why, Amani? Why? Why did you kill Mommy?" Nadeen yelled with tears.

"I didn-"

"You did!" Amani's brittle attempt at defense was cut with Nadeen's tremulous yell.

"I didn't," she cried, inching for her mother. Silent thunder struck Amani into pieces as Nadeen hindered her attempt by pulling their mother away.

"Don't you dare reach us, you murderer!"

"I am not!"

"You are!" Daddy yelled, reminding Amani of his unwanted presence and reaching closer.

As Amani's line of gaze dropped, so did her heartbeat as she shrieked in sight of the bloody knife gummed to her hand, the blood on her; body, clothes. It was the same. The same abaya. Why was she in the same abaya?

Her family carelessly showered in her tears and screams.

Daddy's voice was the only thing her scream couldn't overpower, "You are a murderer, I curse you for eternity! You will never find love and if you ever do, you'll put them in misery and take them away like you took your mother away, Amani! You are a monster! A fat, black, monster. You-"

"Shut up!" Her bloody palms jammed against her ears, "Shut-"

"Why? You killed her!" he inched closer. In desperation, she reached down for the knife, placing it between them and cowering at his still stalking figure.

"Don't-don't come any closer. Don't-" Her tone shook with pain, a melody to her father's ears.

"Or else what? Are you gonna kill me?"

"Murderer...." Nadeen mourned.

"Monster..." Walid added.

"Stop it! Liars, you are all liars. It is a lie! It has to be a lie! This wasn't what happened."

"Is that a lie?" Daddy's bloodied finger angled at Mommy's comatose figure. "Is her dead body a lie?" a sign to her hand, "Is her blood on your hands a lie?" And the knife, "Or is the weapon a lie?"

"Lies!" The voices refused to fade, her screams a small fraction of their intensity, "Wallahi, I didn't kill her!"

"Who did?"

Amani stomped on her feet, her right shoulder flying to crack into her ear. Disconnect the organ. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

"Are going to kill me too?" Daddy pushed.

"Yes!" She hollered, mad as a hatter as she halted in her steps, "Yes!"

Daddy walked into his death, the knife Amani held between them plunging into his heart. The voices went silent and Amani's eyes flew open.

Drenched in sweat yet frozen to the cells, Amani rose abruptly from the pathetic excuse of a foam rubber she called a bed. Her eyes landed on two figures on the other end of the room before she was at the door, banging it with all her might. The wails of flowing tears settled on dead ears, the buzz she had pressed and wailed, "Please let me out! They're here! Let me out," into, got disconnected. A response too worthy to be thrown her way. Her tortured soul could no longer cry anything other than, "Please! Please! Please..." until deeper into the night when her energy had run out.

Hurting was the love of her life now, mentally and physically. Her brain had ordered her body to rest, slipping into an unconscious region of her mind, filled with further dreadful adventures. Those that savored the music of her tears, her anguish their utmost thrill.

The next moment Amani found herself breathing and opening her eyes was daytime. A peak of sunlight from the small excuse of a window her cell had that couldn't fit two fists of hers. Her body demanded a meal, the one she had with her. Cigarettes.

Amani's body submitted to the cemented floor, her back laid to it as her almost lifeless hand moved up to grasp the stick of tobacco between her fingers.

For half of her meal, the room lighted up with the nauseating whiff of the poison. For the other half, a crew of colleagues grazed her cell with their presence, Sara being the first to step into the cell once they realize they were waiting on a probably unconscious prisoner.
"Amani." A stern tone. The, 'we're not doing this today' tone.

"If I do fifteen, I'll probably be your age or older by the time I get out." It was a thought she had spent long on. Hell, she'd be almost Mommy's age if she served fifteen years. "That's if...I make it out." Another option she considered. Razors had been a lot more common in the bathroom these days, she could slip one into her jail uniform.

"You won't do fifteen, Amani. Get up. Hang on, three more visits to that wretched courtroom."

Did she believe her? No. But when she knew her attempt to get up brought joy to Sara, she brought a seeking arm up. Sara's face morphed into a small smile, the acknowledging smile. It was an 'I see you, I feel you, you'll be fine' smile. Sara clasped their palms first in a clap, then a stronghold before groaning as she pulled Amani up.

"What's the time?" Amani asked as Sara worked Amani's wrist into cuffs.

A pause. And answer, "8 Am." And a thrown-back question, "Why do you keep asking?"

"Just counting down to my death day."

***

Amani begrudgingly kept steady as she and Mike took the next turn into a similarly poor lighted-up hallway.

She was paying heed to Sara's words, and reminded her self; two more visits to the wretched courtroom. Her biggest query being, why couldn't they pass a verdict right then? Why did they have to compel everyone to the last days of trial, spent immersed in Mike and Helen's almost childish banters? Was she needed in every sitting? Why couldn't they let her live her last days the way she wanted? Cold, alone, and in constant sweat and anxiety?

"0321."

"Huh?" Mike rose a brow. The numbers Amani had called rang no bell.

"0321." She reran, eyes fascinated by her sneaker-covered feet. "That's my password."

"Why?" A more reasonable question was, "What passwords?"

"My accounts. Bank accounts. Anything that requires four digits in my name is 0321."

Mike hindered his walk, doing the same by grabbing Amani's arm to face him. "Don't start doing this."

"I have to." She avoided his eyes, shrugging and biting her bottom lip harshly. "I don't have access to a will attorney nor any family member. So I am trusting you to deliver it. The rest that needs 6 digits is 550321. Those that need 8 digits are 01550321. Basically mommy's number if you remove the first three digits, that's how you go about everything my family will need to access." She ranted it all, her hand fiddling behind her butt, wrists bruising further.

"Are you sure?" He surrendered to her wishes, letting her nod and taking as much breathing space and moment as she could get.

"Yes. Everything should go to Laura. The shop, the business, my car, what little money I have in my bank." A deep breath, water would've been nice as well, "When Nadeen is of age, half should go to her and half to Walid when he is of age as well."

"Walk with me," Mike suggested, gesturing forward once the hallway went eerie at Amani's words. He let her take a few steps before setting a palm out to the crew about to step on their heels. Ordering, stay here. "Amani..." he began but was short of words. His throat mirrored the Sahara, devoid of moisture and constricting his airway. It was shattering. To not just Amani, but to him as well. Watching something they thought could end well spiraling towards the opposite of their wishes. He was ashamed of his efforts. At least this, he invested his emotions into as well. Maybe, maybe it was his lack of emotional grasp of the case that made it turn out that way.

"I know you did your best, Mike." Amani managed a smile his way, scratched by the inability to give him an appreciative tap on the back. "At least I have your friendship." Amani glanced back, "And Sara's." She smiled at Sara as well, an act she was scarce of. "Despite how shitty the law and its people are. You two are good..." She was hoping her growing brittle voice would not draw her tears out, so she opted for more serious, closing words. "Let Laura know, Walid loves football to death. He wants to go to a football school. She should make sure he does."

Mike nodded.

Amani counted her breath till the session was done. In the confines of the cell, she stood at the door, eyes locked on the box placed on her bed. "What is that?" She asked as Sara worked on the cuffs. "I hope it's a bomb." It'd be her easy way out. In a second, boom, she'd be-

"It's a gift. From your family." A sharp tap on her shoulder and a mock whisper, "Don't tell anyone I brought it in for you." The door closed after the woman, leaving Amani dead in her tracks.

For a while, she stared at it. Never ceasing to as she threads carefully towards it, her breathing shallow. Why was she stalling?

Amani moved until she sat beside the box, her feet still in the confines of sneakers that deprived them of air. She picked the box, it wasn't heavy, but she didn't know what to expect as well. To her ear, she shook the box in search of a preview sound but all she got was rushed sounds of water against walls.

Box down, it was mission impossible not to hastily tear the gift wrap off the box. Moderation. She needed to moderate. Until her breathing was calmer, Amani didn't touch the box.

The wrap came undone slowly, almost dreadfully. A card spelling, 'Eidun Mubarak Aman our love <3' with a smiley face was the first content of the box. Oh, it was Eid? How many had she missed now? A silver wristwatch, the time reading 11:34 Am. Her guess was Mike's doing. Or mentioning. The third was pairs of Twix chocolate. The last content was a hand size box of Alya Mousuf perfume. Amani could remember the scent before uncapping the box. After all, where did she and her mother get their signature pineapple scent from?

"What does your name mean, Aman?" Mommy. It was Mommy in her head. The aroma had drawn her in.

"Aspiration. Wish." The answer she never gave. Meaning she never believed in. Did she have an aspiration? What wish could she possibly have now?

She answered this time, the perf to her nose and a deep inhale of the sweet, calming scent. Oh, to be reunited with Mommy soon...