Saara looked up at her grandson, unable to see even a trace of his father in him. It was as if she was looking at a complete stranger. He was taller than her son, blond with green eyes and glasses over his intelligent, kind eyes. His freckles bore testament to his mother's lineage but his sad heart bore testament only to his father's hand.

"My son left home when he was 17 years old and I haven't seen him since."

"Why did he leave?" Riaz looked down at her, genuinely interested. He had never considered the fact that Zaheer was once a child. He was always just the broad shouldered, tall man who stood over him and watched as he drowned.

"In those days, we had lots of babies. Your dad was right in the middle of 9 of them." His eyes widened marginally at the idea of it. "Oh yes," she smiled fondly up at him, "You have many, many cousins."

His glance flittered to the passage way, trying to figure out where in the line of cousins that man stood.

"He's your father's younger brother's son. He just turned 25 last week."

Riaz could only nod, lost in the surrealism of the entire situation. His mind could barely even grasp the idea of it and he knew what was to come would only send his entire life careening into an unknown sphere that he wasn't ready for at all.

"We didn't divorce our husbands or leave them. It was such an unthinkable idea for it to even occur back then- and that idea stood for everyone. Black, white, coloured, indian- divorce was akin to the plague. No one wanted to know you if you were divorced." She smiled sadly, watching her entire life play out over the dull, grey linoleum tiles. "My husband was a very firm man. He grew his children up with the stick and he never once batted an eyelid when they cried out for him to stop. Zaheer caught it the most."

She receded back into the cold confines of her mind, remembering every yell and cry that came from the little storage room in their house as her husband disciplined her son. He would beg for him to stop, crying out for forgiveness yet still she would hear his cane strike skin over and over again.

"He was troublesome and naughty and my husband watched out for him more than the others. But when his younger brother was born, I had to send your father away to his uncle."

"Why?"

"Nowadays there's a nicer term for your uncle. In those days, people weren't very nice. They called my son retarded and they called him backwards and they spoke to him as if he was stupid. But my son wasn't retarded." She sighed, her face pulling into a grimace at the thoughts of her neighbours looking down at him with pity and their obnoxious self-righteous advice that was strewn at her from every angle. "He was just my son. He was my favourite son. None of my other children had ever loved me as he loved me. His love was pure and innocent and when he hugged me, it felt as if every one of my problems seemed to disappear." She wiped at her eyes, long-forgotten tears having found their way back to her eyes. "He was my sunshine."

"Everyone loved him, even your father. He loved him more than any of his other siblings. But he was a difficult child to look after and I simply couldn't look after your father as well so I sent him away to live with my older brother." Her eyes pinched closed, regret filling into every vein within her eyes causing them to look sad and dull. "My brother was strict, I always knew that. But I never realised that he had a temper that he couldn't control and he would take his anger out on my son far too often. I didn't know that until he ran away but I wish I did. Things might have turned out differently if I did." Her voice was strung with decades of sorrow, each stringing their own mourning bell as she spoke. It hurt her- it hurt her so deeply to know that she had sent her son to live with the monster beneath his bed. "I haven't spoken to my brother in 50 years. I haven't even looked at him since Zaheer ran away but what good did it do?"

Riaz waited, allowing her to gather her thoughts, turning her words over and over in his head.

"When he came back for the holidays, he was changed. He was... there was this... darkness that had settled over him but I hadn't truly noticed until it was too late. There were the kids and your uncle and a year later, your aunty was born with the same condition as your uncle. It was a difficult time for me. My husband blamed me for them- not that I was surprised. It was to be expected but I didn't care. I loved my kids regardless and oddly enough, when your father was with them, it was as if light had filtered back into his life again."

Riaz didn't want to imagine it. He didn't want to imagine the idea that his father was ever capable of natural love. His father was just an evil man and he refused to let her memories tarnish that.

"It happened when your father turned 16."

"What happened?"

"Your father was angry and he was about to walk out of the house when his brother decided to hug him."  She closed her eyes, hearing the crack of broken bone resound throughout her entire mind. "He didn't mean it but Zaheer pushed him down the stairs and he broke his spine."

"That day, your grandfather took him into the room and I don't know what he did to him. Zaheer didn't shout for help or yell for him stop- I could only hear him screaming. He screamed till his voice had turned hoarse and raw and he screamed some more. I didn't try to help him nor did I try to save him." She reached for her handkerchief once more, unable to truly wipe away the tears that had begun to pour out of her eyes. "I sat outside that room and I cried and even when my tears had dried, his screaming didn't stop."

"Is that when he left?"

She shook her head, hating herself more and more for the part she played in his life. "I sent him back to his uncle. I thought it would be better if he was away but..." she shook her head, drying her tears once again, "A few months later, he was gone. Your uncle died soon after that."

She ran her tongue slowly over her darkened lips, savouring the taste of salt on them. It reminded her that she had not forgotten. After all these years, the memories of her children's broken lives had still haunted her, punished her and she revelled in it. It was her penance.

It was all she had left to give them.

She stood up slowly, her knees creaking beneath her weight. "You know," she straightened her jersey, pulling it down so that it sat without any folds, "You're a good boy. You're very sweet to lie to an old lady but I know you." She grabbed his arm, holding it up weakly in her own. "I knew from the moment I saw your hands." She lifted his sleeve, revealing the light pink marks dotting his skin before she pulled up the sleeve of her jersey and dress. "You see..." his eyes  traced the dark brown dots along her aged skin, marvelling at the similarities. "I know you."

She reached out to cup his cheek in her palm, smiling at him one last time. "I want to know you. Please don't deny me this."

He nodded, standing up as she began to gather herself enough to leave.

"What were their names?" His voice called back to her, causing her to turn around to look at him.

"Whose names?"

"Your son and daughter."

She smiled sadly, looking up at his face one last time.

"Riaz and Farhana."

She nodded, turning around before he could stand witness to even a single tear that had begun its slow journey down her darkened, wrinkled cheek...

She felt his arms around her waist as she looked out their window at the rising moon. She had barely even realised that darkness had descended upon their room until she felt his hands shaking against her skin. He had fitted his head into the crook of her shoulder, moulding his chest to her back. She turned her head, running her hand through his hair before she brushed a light kiss to his forehead. "What happened?"

He shook his head, holding her just a little tighter before she turned around, wrapping her arms around his large frame. "You can tell me, you know. I'll always listen."

"I'll tell you later." He closed his eyes, playing his grandmother's words through his mind as if it were a broken symphony. "I just..." she felt the muscles in her back tense as she felt his fingers trail along the edge of her t-shirt, barely skimming over her bare back, "I just want to be with you, right now." He leaned back, pleading with her, "Please."

She looked up at him, tracing the edge of his jaw with her finger tips.

"Please, let me touch you?"

She looked at him oddly, before she stretched onto the the tips of her toes to kiss him gently. "You never have to ask permission to touch me. You know that."

He leaned his forehead against hers, breathing in her floral scent. He loved that scent more than anything else in the world and never had it failed to ease his nerves. It was just... her. Gentle and beautiful and kind- like the flowers she once had in her garden. "I'm scared," his voice tickled her ears as she felt his lips hover over her skin, "I'm going to forget to be gentle with you and I don't want to hurt you again." He kissed the soft skin beneath her ear as his hands found their way to the buttons of her shirt, unbuttoning them slowly as his lips found their way to the corner of her mouth.

"Wait." She placed her fingers over his lips, before she moved his hands away.

He looked down at her, frozen in place before as he watched her darkened silhouette. He could barely make out her fingers against her own shirt as she worked the tiny white buttons out of their holes. She felt confident in the dark as she shrugged her shirt off her shoulders, reaching for the clasp behind her back, unhooking her simple black bra.

"Just," she held out her hand, guiding him towards the bed before she pushed him gently to lie down, "Let me be in control." she unbuttoned her jeans, pushing them down her legs before she laid down beside him, allowing him to feel her naked chest press against his shirt.

"Close your eyes." She whispered, covering his eyes gently with her hand. "Do you remember when I told you that the darkness wasn't so bad if you were the one controlling it?" She asked, remembering the first time she had ever touched him in the darkened auditorium. "This is same thing Riaz. You're in control." she brushed her lips over his, allowing him to taste the bubblegum lip-ice over her lips. She unbuttoned his shirt, sliding the white material down his shoulders before he shrugged his arms out of the material. "You're in control and I trust you."

She kissed him once more, allowing her hands to explore the wide expanse of his chest, smiling as he shivered beneath her cold touch. Finally she felt his hands over her skin- light tentative touches that she had missed more than she thought possible. She pressed herself closer to him as he stroked the sensitive skin at the base of her back. "I missed this." She admitted, pressing her lips to his chest, allowing herself to feel his quickened heartbeats beneath her lips.

"If I hurt you," his hand found its way to her stomach, skimming lightly over her ribs before resting softly over her heart, "Stop me."

She could only nod as his touch became firmer, feeling the way her heart exploded within her chest.

"Promise me, Little Bee."

She kissed him, her heart smiling at their long forgotten endearment. "I love you Riaz." She whispered gasping into his mouth as she felt his fingers against the waistband of her panties, impatient to feel him surround her entire being with his presence.

"I love you too."

And finally, he moved the soft black material down her legs, proving to them both that he was in control once again...