The Nightmare!!!!!!! Is it actually Real Life. Is it Actually A Nightmare or something Worse? Is it Reality -

" Wake up Sarah! " A faraway voice called. 

My eyes fluttered open, I was in unfamiliar territory. 

Sunlight streamed through an open window, I was on a squashy blue bed, curled up in a lemon yellow duvet, my head on a soft pillow that smelt of lavender. Subhanallah!

I bounced off the bed, my feet sinking into a cream-coloured carpet, next to the bed was an ornate drawing of flowers on the lilac wall, opposite the drawing was a large window, on it's left was a small cupboard.

I opened the white cupboard, revealing some clothes, an array of scarves, abayas, dresses and leggings. In addition, there were large hoods, hoodies and baggy jeans to desguise me.

Suddenly, I remembered. 

I slid onto the carpet, leaning against the door.

My head was throbbing with worry, I thought of the time Yasmine and I were exploring the inside of the tunnels when we were allowed to roam freely.

We'd crashed into a disapproving Mrs Ali, who huffed and gave us a lecture on the importance of not racing around in the dark. The minute she finished Yasmine pushed past her, leaving me to apologise to Mrs Ali.

She just laughed," It's alright, you are only young, off you go! "

And listened to my slow, deliberate footsteps. 

I caught up with Yasmine.

" You and Mrs Ali should live together, you're such a goody goody. "

" No I'm not! " I insisted

" Prove it! " She laughed.

" Fine, I will," I put a hand on my hip, " I really will! "

Yasmine just giggled and said," I'll be waiting for that day for a while! "

" I'll prove you wrong, " I squealed.

And I did. But in the worst way I could ever imagine.

Yasmine was the favourite, youthful and imaginative, I was always meant to be obedient, caring, resourcesful, -

Only I'm not.

Because I killed half of the muslim bunker because of my own greed. Astaghfirullah!

My family had been split up into pieces, more damaged than it was before.

Auntie Nahiza, was always the kindly mother I couldn't have. She was always there for me when I was afraid, she always tried so hard to be my mother. I only realised then how much she meant to me. So much that my heart split open with love when I thought of her. 

Uncle Habib was so close to a father, he was brusque but funny and protective. I didn't know him so much even though he was Dad's older brother, he liked to keep quiet, he had a big booming voice that would ring in my ears. He was an amazing person, I sighed, moarnfully.

Naffiza was so sweet, she explained everything to me and loved to chat about anything and everything. She'd helped me overcome my fear of Dentists, even if it was because we couldn't go to dentists anymore. 

Tears streamed down my cheeks and the window banged shut, the warm sunlight on my back disappearing, replaced by a cold breeze.

Mr Hussein had saved me . . . And Basma knew a secret about me. Was he someone I should have known?

He was so nice, memories floated through my head, that time a few months ago, when we had our first proper conversation.

* * *

I was stumbling through the tunnels aimlessly, looking for something to do, choking on the putrid fumes from the Toilets. 

Holding my nose, I turned around, walking away.

Mr Hussein was standing opposite me, holding a candle, smiling a sad smile," Sarah. "

I looked at him, puzzled, " Assalamoalaikum Mr Hussein. "

" Assalamoalaikum Sarah, " he whispered, scanning me.

Uncomfortable, I scratched my head, " I hope you have a nice day. "

I began to move but he said, " Stop! "

I froze.

He smiled a bright smile. 

And looked so familiar.

" Please stay a moment. I've got to say you look more like your father than your mother. "

I twisted around to look at him, he had dark brown hair, brown skin and deep chocolate-brown eyes.

" You know them? "

He closed his eyes, " A little, " he sounded vague.

" What were their names? "

Hazimah and Atif, I begged for him to say.

His eyes sparked with recognition but what he said was different to what he should have.

"  . . . R-Rabbah ? And . . . H-halima? " He frowned," Yes that's right. "

Then he saw my face.

Devestated.

He looked guilty and miserable," I'm sorry Sarah  . . . "

I rushed off, running past him, all my hopes crushed.

* * *

But the way his eyes had sparked with recognition. 

I still thought about that.

I was going to miss him.

I threw my head in my hands, tears flowing onto the carpet, salty and painful.

Yaccoub and Malik, they were so wonderful, Mrs Kaur and Mrs Ali, all the residents of the tunnel . . .

They never put anyone's lives at stake. They were always helping others. Nadia and Karima as well. 

Yasmine and her new-founded friend Rahma. 

I prayed that they'd all be okay . . .  

Wiping my tears, I blinked at the room, as if seeing it for the first time. It was so clean, so airy. I realised that the air smelt different, fresh and bright, like Mum, full of new beginnings and hope.

Only there was no more beginnings left for me because I ended so many people's stories.

Incensed and disgusted at the monster that I was I cried some more.

Someone cleared their throat, ahem! 

I jumped backwards to see Basma, patiently, standing there all along, rubbing scars on her wrist -

" Oh Basma, " I sobbed, " I'm so sorry, about th-that, about you carrying me up somehow, about killing half of the - "

" You are not a disgusting monster, but you are a moron. " 

Hearing her say that made me feel a little relieved but I knew she was lying ( not about the moron thing but about the disgusting monster thing. )

As if reading my mind," I'm not lying. The only reason any of this happened was because of the stupid President. "

She was being generous, what about the idiot who let them in?

" What about the idiot who let them in? " I echoed out loud.

Basma rolled her eyes," Don't be dramatic, they would have found it anyway.

" Why are you so casual about this? "

" Because I have to comfort you, " she whispered quietly," You are in serious need of some comfort. "

I tried ignoring her comment. 

" D-do you think it's my fault . . . honestly? "

" No, " she muttered," An optical illusion was too simple. If anything Sarah, you helped keep people alive, if we hadn't been there then how could we have warned the rest? How could have some people escaped? "

It was like a weight had been lifted of me. Not a large weight just half from a heavy bag. I breathed the fresh air and half-smiled.

" Honest? " I asked, doubtfully.

" Honest, " she confirmed.

I saw she was wearing a red and blue kameez ( a pakistani clothing, like a dress, worn under shalvar - a kind of comfy trousers - but in this case with leggings. )

She saw me looking," I know you've seen the cupboard, the bathroom's the room next to yours. "

" Where are we? " 

" When you are sixteen you get told where to go if you are suddenly found in England and given a paper map to where the safest locations are. I immediately went to the nearest but most hidden one, no one was there apart from Ms Brenton, the owner. She's quite a sweet english lady . . . "

Basma rambled on but I now knew what I needed to. 

Basma talking didn't stop me from being enraged that I'd spent most of my life underground, never to have seen the beauties of the world. I peered outside the window, taking in the jaw-dropping countryside view. We were on a hill, isolated from any houses and shaded by ginormous trees, sunlight beaming at me from the gaps in the leaves. Alhamdulilah!

" Where are we? " I repeated, cutting in.

Basma looked annoyed that I'd never been listening," I just told you. "

" No, but where in England are we? " I snapped, angrily.

She sounded hurt," Somewhere in North Yorkshire, near a few villages . . . Eastburn and Steeton? "

That was short for Basma. 

" I'm sorry, " I whispered, looking away from the stunning view.

It reminded me so much of home. Of Mum and Dad. How I used to breathe in her flowery scent day and night, and how she'd used to read That Teddy Called Timmy to me. She cut apples and mangos in heart shapes for me to eat and she would never cut the hearts open, ever. 

She'd say," Hearts aren't meant to be split open, cracked or shattered. "

Dad would buy me chocolates and sometimes we'd do the Chocolate challenge ( we stuck a piece of chocolate on our tongues and tried to see how long we'd last before eating them.

The best days were when Mum would recite the Quran to me, lulling me to sleep . . .

" It's alright, " she muttered, but obviously it wasn't," I'm sorry about everything Sarah. "

I bit my lip, trying not to think about Yasmine and the rest of the family I ruined -

" What are we going to do? " I wondered out loud.

There was a sharp knock on the door and it burst open.

An elderly english lady came inside, smiling," Lovely! You're awake dear! "

She took one look at my ratty clothes," The shower's over there and some clothes in there. " She pointed to the cupboard.

She wore a pink dress and was holding two prayer mats in her hands, " Are these okay Basma? "

Basma flushed with happiness," Thank you ever so much Ms Brenton. "

Ms Brenton laughed," Call me Jane, love . . . I had them tucked away somewhere," she handed them over to Basma," What's your name honey? "

I nervously murmured," Sarah. "

" Lovely to meet Sarah! I'm Jane, I live here with my grandchildren who are about your age. "

She seemed so easy-going, so clueless that me and Basma almost died, so determined to make the most of things that I wanted to scream, shout, rage.

There was another knock on the door.

" One second, " said Basma, grabbing a scarf and pulling it on, I did the same.

" Come in now Harriet, " called Jane.

Harriet opened the door and stared at us in amazement. She had pearl white skin, sapphire-blue eyes, honey-coloured waist-long hair and pretty pink lips.

" Hello, I'm Harriet. " 

Perfect manners.

She glanced at my scruffy clothes, giving an encouraging smile to me, I could only stare back at her blankly.

Then she looked at pretty-much-perfect Basma and found her twin.

" I love your pretty chocolate brown skin! "

Jane shot her a disapproving glare but Basma just laughed," Thanks. "

" And your khamiz, " she sounded so weird I laughed.

An empty, hollow laugh.

Everyone turned to stare at me, I blushed, turning away.

She was so like Basma. 

It was so obvious they'd become friends, more than friends, twins. 

While I'd battle myself and what I've done. 

Miserable, I grabbed some clothes, ignoring Basma and Harriet rambling on about girly stuff.

I smiled cheesily at Jane on my way out of the door," Just going to have a shower. "

Harriet whispered something to Basma and they both snickered.

Ignoring walked on the soft carpet, and walked inside the sweet pink bathroom, I felt a pang in my leg that I'd been ignoring before.

Gently I pulled off my jeans, noticing I was now wearing a bandage, it was where I'd been shot. I took it off and saw a nasty scar, but my leg had been treated well.

Then I took a long hot shower for the first time in years, relishing the feel of the clean water, washing away layers of dirt, a few layers of guilt and worry.

I started hoping, Yasmine, Auntie Nahiza, Uncle Habib, Malik, Yaccoub, Naffiza, Nadia, Rahma, Mrs Ali, all the others, most of them might be alive, I might have just been hallucinating about the piles of dead bodies, they might have not been familiar. 

Maybe Mum and Dad didn't die. Maybe it was someone else and not them. Maybe Uncle Habib, Auntie Nahiza and Naffiza saw another couple die.

I might see them all again.

Basma said it wasn't my fault it was the President and all his people's. And not everyone English was nasty, they might be like Blackman, there might still be hope.

For the first time in years I started hoping.

Thankyou all for making this journey so far with me, I'd love some suggestions on how to improve and what you all think. 

Oh and of course innocent Harriet, is she innocent and naive or do you sense A Betrayal coming up, or something worse . . .