“Stop it, bas!” the girl said. “Rasheed, you can't do this.” “Go back to the room.”
Mariam backpedaled again. “No! Don't do this!” Now!
Rasheed raised the belt again and this time came at Mariam. Then an astonishing thing happened: The girl lunged at him.
She grabbed his arm with both hands and tried to drag him down, but she could do no more than dangle from it.
She did succeed in slowing Rasheed's progress toward Mariam.
“Let go!” Rasheed cried. “You win. You win. Don't do this. Please, Rasheed, no beating! Please don't do this.”
They struggled like this, the girl hanging on, pleading,
Rasheed trying to shake her off, keeping his eyes on Mariam, who was too stunned to do anything.
In the end, Mariam knew that there would be no beating, not that night. He'd made his point.
He stayed that way a few moments longer, arm raised, chest heaving, a fine sheen of sweat filming his brow.
Slowly, Rasheed lowered his arm. The girl's feet touched ground and still she wouldn't let go, as if she didn't trust him.
He had to yank his arm free of her grip. “I'm on to you,” he said, slinging the belt over his shoulder.
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