Deviant Fixation

by Valencia Carmelita

  "Let me see all of them, I want to choose!" She orders.

  I gather up all of my hijabs and place them infront of her on the bed. She smirks while her eyes scan over them. " are these all that you have ?"

  I nod in agreement. "Yes, these are all I have..you can choose any of them to try on."

  "Good! I'm taking them all with me!" She cackles and in a swift movement, begins to toss all of my hijabs into her plastic bag. "Including the one on your head!!"

  "What?! Why?!" I stare at her quizzically.

  She pauses and a sinister smile deepens on her face. "Do as I say and take that scarf off from your head."

  "No! What would I wear if I gave you the one on my head?" I exclaim in complete vexation. "You could choose one to wear from any of those instead of taking all my hijabs!"

  Is this woman serious ?

  She whips her head back and starts laughing again. "You know I didn't think you'd be this stupid! Why would I want to wear your dirty scarves anyway? Why should I dress like a babushka ?"

  I stare at her in puzzlement. "I don't understand what you're doing.."

  "Because you're borderline retarded, you fell into my trap so easily! Hook, line and sinker!" She giggles and leaps to her feet from the bed. "But perhaps I'm a good actress after all, I deserve an award."

  Then she dramatically brings up the back of her hand across her forehead and begins in an over dramatic tone. " Oh Vladimir beats me, oh I'm suffering, oh I need to escape! Boo hoo!"

  She starts laughing again and claps her hands. "And you totally bought it, you're dumb as shit! I swear hahahahaha!"

  I stare at her in complete disbelief. So that was all a lie on her part ?

  "So you lied this entire time?!" I utter indignantly.

  "Duh! Now get that scarf off from your head, stop wasting my time!" She snaps her bejewelled fingers at me impatiently.

  "No! Why ?" I demand.

  "Well then..you'll leave me no choice when.." She pauses and slips out her iPhone and shoves it in my face.

  "when I upload your naked film onto a porn website and label it Muslim chick strips for cam!"

  I couldn't believe my eyes when there on the screen of her phone, a video clip plays of me changing out of my clothes in her bathroom. Every detail of my naked body is displayed clearly.

  "Imagine how much fruitful the monetary gain for me would be when I upload this." She whispers slyly.

  In complete horror I gape at her. " you recorded me ! How could you do such a low thing ?"

  "Take off that headscarf and hand it over, otherwise consider yourself a stripper!" She proclaims with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

  In a quick motion, I try snatching the phone out of her hand. But she dodges in an ever more alert reflex and chortles. "Tsk tsk, you really think I haven't made duplicate copies of this video? I have them on my laptop and my USB keychain. Oh you are beyond stupider than I thought!"

  "Please don't do this to me! Please delete this !" I entreat as apprehension claws at my mind. " I'm not a stripper, I want to preserve my modesty, please don't be so cruel !"

  "Take off that headscarf and I won't upload it on the net, it's simple orders just follow them." She reiterates. " come on, off with it now."

  My eyes pool with tears as I reach up to undo my hijab but stop midway. "Don't do this, I have always wore my hijab since I was 12. I can't be without my hijab, please don't do this."

  She rolls her eyes and huffs derisively. "The prospect of being a stripper seems appealing to you?! Fine as you wish !"

  She starts swiftly skimming through her phone.

  "No ! Please don't ! I'll take it off !" I beg while reaching out for her to quit the immoral deed she was about to commit. She flinches back from my hands and pins me with a cold expectant look.

  "Why are you doing this ? Why so much cruelty ?" I cry as I unravel my hijab.

  She cocks her head to the side and her face contorts in a sordid expression. "You think I'm stupid ? I see the way everyone besides Vladimir, is falling into your grips. They sing your praises infront of him and now even that damned cousin of his begs for your safety! I've been aquatinted with this family far longer than your filthy presence has, but yet what do I get in return? Nothing ! No respect ! I see what you're trying to do and I want you to suffer and be humiliated! I want to show them they are fūcking wrong about you!"

  She's nearly panting in fury, the phone in her tightened grip seemed ready to shatter. I stare at her in a mixture of alarm and dread as I entreat her again. "Look I don't know what you're talking about! I am not here to stay permanently, I didn't even want to be here in the first place! Please don't do this!"

  She evades my plea and impatiently snaps her fingers. "Off with the scarf now! Or you'll be a net celebrity soon!"

  With a final hesitant tug, my hijab comes undone and falls onto the floor. I begin sobbing freely as I stare down at it in shame.

  My dignity...something so close to my heart. All falling into ruins by such an evil and immoral witch standing before me.

  "Undo your hair from the ponytail." She orders without any trace of sympathy or shame.

  Through complete sorrow, I reluctantly comply and my glossy dark tresses cascade over my shoulders. She lets out an astonished gasp. "you have amazing hair ! It's so long !"

  She grabs a fistful and stares in wonderment. " if I had áss length hair and thick and silky as yours, I would never cover it up. It's a shame you enjoy living like a babushka."

  "Please, it's my modesty at stake here. Please don't do this !" I plead again.

  In a split second she regains her disdainful composure and levels a glare at me. " Too bad! I don't care. "

  She tosses my hair out of her hands and then retrieves my hijab from the floor and stuffs it into the plastic bag. "Well, I'll be back later in the afternoon, so I expect you to quit bawling by then and come to terms with your lowly condition. And don't bother telling anyone about this because you don't have proof and I'll just simply post your video online if you do. Anyway be ready for me !"

  She shoves past me towards the door and I tumble towards the ground in humiliated dejection.

  ◆◆◆

  Babushka means old woman or grandma in Russian.

  Chapter 18

  Despondency of the severest kind takes root ever stronger with each step I descend. Misery has engulfed in the far recesses of my mind, expanding with each breath I inhale.

  Last year this time around, you lived a conventional life..as an ordinary teenager...

  "Sanam!"

  I glance away from my shoes, only to spot Beverly and Serge ascending the foyer stairwell in my direction. Faces brimming with genuine concern.

  No, please don't keep asking me the same questions..she will see and she will ruin my reputation further..she will not hesitate..it's what she always says..

  They halt below me a step and Bev begins. "It's over a week since we've been seeing you in a depressed state. It's as if by removing your headscarf you have also lost your normal self..."

  That's because I have indeed lost my normal self...

  "Yes, what's going on ?" Serge pipes in expectantly. "Like we've said before, tell us what's bothering you."

  "I told you I'm fine, please just don't ask me such questions." I utter dejectedly.

  "Bullshįt! " Bev exasperates, she takes ahold of my hand. "Look at me and tell me the truth. Right now you're talking to us a bit more normally but whenever Ilona is around, you say the most rude and mean things to us. What's up with such a behaviour ? That's not the real you ! What has Ilona done beca-"

  "She hasn't done anything!!" Instantly I cut her off in discretion. I warily glance around, hoping she doesn't barge in, hoping she isn't overhearing.

  "See!! You get defensive as soon as I mention her! She's done something!" Bev insists, wagging her index finger at me in disapproval.

  "We're gonna get to the bottom of this." Serge warns.

  "Tomorrow is my wedding day.." B
ev reminds the obvious. "..and this entire manor will be filled with guests..I don't want to see you looking depressed on my wedding day. I was hoping you would have been one of my bridesmaids but I know deep down you declined since Ilona made you.."

  "Please, don't worry over me." I reply bitterly while brushing past them down the steps. "Excuse me but I need to serve Ilona her drink she's requested. Goodnight to you both."

  With that concluding statement, I rush in the direction of the kitchen.

  A week has passed since my hijab removal. The manor over the last two days is completely embellished with wedding decor. Grigori and Bev selected the Nielsen manor's sprawling gardens for their outdoors wedding location.

  Albeit happiness is exuding abundantly from everyone in the manor, yet I continue drowning in sorrow. Ilona was trying her best to make everyone hate me. Pressing me to say the worst things to them in their presence.

  Then there were my plaguing thoughts over baba. Last Friday, when he along with Naheed spotted me in the court room..nothing but livid expressions set in their faces. The judge had adjourned the case for another date inorder for Bilal to testify next.

  While trudging past me, the last words baba said 'you've turned out to be the exact copy of your mother. Blatant lies against me in court and look at you, shamelessly displaying your hair now to the world. You've brought me nothing but dishonor!'

  No amount of comforting from Rachael could prevent me from weeping in court. I didn't want him to think so lowly of me and my deceased mother.

  If only he would understand..

  I heave a dismal sigh as I pop off the cork from the chilled bottle of white wine and pour a glass for Ilona. Not only has she been humiliating me in the presence of others, but she's been treating me as her personal maid and masseuse since the immoral advantage she's had over me.

  Ya'Allah when will this nightmare come to an end ?

  The inner supplication goes incomplete when I hear a distinct clicking sound approaching swiftly. My body freezes in dreadful recognition.

  Vladimir !

  However did I manage to forget that he was to arrive within these days in time for Grigori and Bev's wedding?

  The clicking of his cane against the floor sounds closer. My eyes frantically scan around for a niche to hide. Then I inwardly curse myself for having chosen to uncork the wine bottle at the very last kitchen island farthest away from the pantry door.

  But it's too late as I hear the double doors swing open. I turn my back towards them and tightly clutch at the wine bottle and glass on the counter. Praying inwardly for him to not address me, not notice me or just simply ignore my presence.

  The clicking comes to an abrupt halt. I squeeze my eyes shut while thinking repeatedly Please don't notice me, please don't notice me, please don't notice me...

  "Who are you, Miss?" Ensues that sleek and velvety masculine voice.

  My mind numbs over in trepidation while I evade him an answer. I completely forgot, I'm not wearing hijab. At present, he sees the back of my long, hip length hair and thinks I'm some unacquainted person.

  The clicking of his cane approaches nearer before I sense him halt a few feet away.

  "Well?" He repeats in his trademark austerity. " Who are you and what are you doing in the kitchen this late?"

  I inhale in a shaky breath and gradually turn around to face him. My gaze locks with those mystifying blue eyes and as always I'm taken back by his appearance.

  A mixture of alarm and puzzlement contorts his noble features when he recognizes my face. His eyes sweep over my exposed hair and the rest of my modest attire before settling on my face again.

  In a split second he regains his composure and begins to amble forward, a devious smirk tugging at his lips.

  "Well, well, well.." He begins in a casually mocking tone. "what have we here?..a confounding sight indeed.."

  With one hand pocketed in his overcoat and the other gripping his cane, he slowly strolls around the kitchen island I stand at. Sapphire eyes languidly raking over my hair and then the rest of my figure.

  I gulp nervously under his condescending scrutiny. I didn't ever imagine feeling this uneasy in my entire life as I was under his analytical stare and without my hijab.

  "And here I assumed..you might very well have been balding under those rags you wear on your head.." He continues thoughtfully without breaking his amble around me, yet keeping a distance of a feet. "For me that was the only reason perceivable why any Muslim vermin would conceal their heads..."

  I dare not respond to his casual insults, remembering all too well of his deadly intentions for me and of the last disturbing kitchen encounter with him.

  He's a murderer, he enjoys killing and he wants to kill you..he's made it perfectly clear before and Grigori has confirmed it for you.

  "But..now I must say..." He trails off slyly while coming to a halt infront of me. With a raised brow and eyes wickedly skimming over my tresses. "..not bad..not bad indeed..not bad at all.."

  In an unwanted reaction, my cheeks steam up with a sudden blush. I shift on my feet in discomfort and then make a move to flee.

  But he draws out his cane infront of me, barring my escape. I avert my gaze to my shoes, while pressing my back against the island counter top away from him and his cane.

  "Did I permit you to leave ?" His voice leaks out acidly. "Tell me Muslim..why now without a rag on your head and a glass of wine?..A ploy of assimilation into Western culture, whereby you could implement terror when we least expect it?"

  I furrow my brows, deigning to provide him a response.

  How dare he accuse me of terror when he is the actual terrorist within these walls..

  "Answer me." He demands severely.

  Right around then the double doors to the kitchen swing open, and struts in an overly irritated Ilona. Her scowl vanishes as soon as her eyes land on us.

  "Vladdy !" She squeals in apparent delight as she rushes forward. "Oh I've missed you terribly. How was your business trip ?"

  She's ready to throw her arms around him, when he draws up his cane and pushes her away with it. An ever stringent look descends over his features and he orders. "Not in the mood, I need a glass of brandy. Deliver it upstairs."

  She stares after him while he departs out of the kitchen in brisk no-nonsense strides. Then she aims her attention on me and immediately her scowl returns. "What did I warn you about lateness before! You should have served me the glass of wine some 15 minutes ago!"

  " I'm sorry-" I stammer. "I didn't mean to-"

  she swiftly interjects. "Remember ! I brought along my laptop with me and it will be much easier on there to upload your naked clip onto every porn site imaginable!"

  "It won't happen again, I promise." I plead.

  ◆◆◆

  The next day, I aimlessly weave through the clusters of wedding attendees in the ballroom. After the wedding ceremony was completed, Beverly stole me away from a seething Ilona just to introduce me to many of the guests.

  People comprising mostly by the surnames Nielsen, Molotov and Townsend. Some of the most prestigious and disciplined were namely those that went by the Nielsen surname.