“You,” he said to Mariam. “You wait here.” “You two, upstairs.”
Rasheed grabbed Laila by the elbow and pushed her up the steps. He was still wearing the shoes he wore to work.
Laila pictured him as he must have been earlier, rushing from one room to another, slamming doors, furious and incredulous.
At the top of the stairs, Laila turned to him. “She didn't want to do it,” she said. “I made her do it. She didn't want to go.”
Laila didn't see the punch coming. One moment she was talking and the next she was on all fours, wide eyed and red faced, trying to draw a breath.
It was as if a car had hit her at full speed, in the tender place between the lower tip of the breastbone and the belly button.
She realized she had dropped Aziza, that Aziza was screaming.
She tried to breathe again and could only make a husky, choking sound.
Then she was being dragged by the hair. She saw Aziza lifted, saw her sandals slip off, her tiny feet kicking.
Hair was ripped from Laila's scalp, and her eyes watered with pain. She saw his foot kick open the door to Mariam's room.
He let go of Laila's hair, and she felt the toe of his shoe connect with her left buttock.
She howled with pain as he slammed the door shut. Aziza was still screaming.
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