Chapter 2: 01

'Greedy' - Ariana Grande

Unedited

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"Because I want you to take a step back and evaluate yourself. What makes you so deserving of all the blessings you have? Those innocents dying across the world - what makes you think you're better than them? That they deserve whatever hardship they were born into..." the activist droned on passionately.

She really needs to shut up, god damn. Now Zayn didn't disagree with her views, however the same lecture every Monday made him loathe the day more. The students in his sixth form-college were too invested in sex and drugs to give a toss about her lecture - it seemed to Zayn that she should really target another more suitable audience.

"Wallah imma go deaf bruv. She's still at it for what? Forty fvcking minutes! My hair gon turn white by the time this chic's done!" complained Sami, Zayn's friend since secondary school.

The English-born Palestinian ran his pale hands through his thick black-brown curls, now frizzing up in all directions. Zayn rolled his eyes but refrained from replying to prevent an argument - his friend, miraculously, kept his whining on a low today and Zayn didn't want to ruin the peace.

"Ignoring me ain't gonna get you anywhere Malik. I know what game you tryna play. Listen yeah, I say we bunk- no no no! Before you interrupt, I'm saying this so we can get a quick start for our community service. Mans got places to be, ya know afterwards, if ya catch my drift, eh?" Sami spoke up after realising his friend wasn't going to reply, even though the use of his middle name often earned him a slap and a couple of curses.

"Look I checked the duration with Mr Wyatt yeah and for skipping a whole week of college, being involved in 3 fights, vandalism and trespassing - we both have 1 hour at the care home 2 days in a week, 2 hours picking up litter 3 days in a week and 3 hours catching up daily missed assignments for just one week. I don't have any conquests this week so I'm thinking we run the care home and do our shit there and then do the litter duties for today. We'll be done by 3 - then till 5 we can er, train, innit? Cuz on Wed & Thurs - you know?" rushed out Zayn after a moment of silence. His silver eyes regarded his friend as he mulled over his suggestion, predicting an objection.

"Kmt you planned it well but you know I don't stick to plans and-

"MR ABDUL SAMI KHADRA AND MR ZAYN MALIK AHMED! I SEE YOU ARE BOTH VERY INVESTED IN YOUR LITTLE DISCUSSION? CARE TO SHARE?"boomed Sir Remington from across the hall, his face red from shouting. Knowing Sami was going to give a very unwise reply, Zayd kicked his leg to shut him up and quickly said, "Yessir we were just discussing possible humanitarian issues we could - er - you know possibly include in our essay for this course- uh yeah."

Sir Remington eyed them with suspicion- he normally would've received a rude reply but he didn't this time- most likely the result of their community sentence.

"I'm sure you would enjoy elaborating on these issues with me in detention after school?" Sir replied curtly.

Sami groaned and slid down his seat, muttering curses about how they weren't high school students anymore and that Remy would look great with a shank up his ass.

Zayn sighed. Splendid. Absolutely fvcking wonderful.

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"K but like if it weren't haram (forbidden) and all that yeah, who do you think would be the best shag?" inquired Muhammad Abdullahi - better known as Mabdi. Feet up against the wall with his head hanging of the ledge, the Somali self-proclaimed comedian unashamedly surveyed the female students of Milton High Sixth Form- College, earning him a chastising swat from Zayd.

"Astaghfirullah (I seek forgiveness from Allah) Mabdi I don't spend time checking out every thing that walks with a vagina. Is this the preparation for Ramadan you were referring to? I'm sure Khala (aunt) Firdous would love to hear." responded Anwar.

Anwar used to be the biggest harami out of all the boys, until he got his heart broken. He went to Bangladesh for a good three weeks to have returned more devoted to his religion and - much to the groups annoyance- a newfound sense of sarcasm. The rest never voiced out anything against this however- if that was his coping technique, they let him be and besides he advised the rest on their religion which the rest were thankful for. Even their Christian friends.

"Yeah yeah mans been keeping his gaze lowered and that ofc but like I can make mistakes - okay wallahi I'll stop don't push me off." continued Mabdi only to stop after receiving a glare from Kairees.

Zayn raised his eyebrows at this. Zayn was raised in a practising Muslim family - something he only later came to appreciate. So that included the basic stuff - no drugs, drinking, dating, smoking, bacon, praying 5 times a day, a good relationship with the Quran. The Ahmeds were a big but tight-knit family. One thing Zayn especially appreciated was that his parents preached but never enforced - forcing their children would in turn only make them more rebellious.

No, their children practised their religion correctly on their own as their parents trusted them to not exceed the boundaries and if they erred, which all humans do, they themselves realise what they did and repent. Zayn now did these actions from his own heart - he tried his best to lower his gaze around females (even if they are wearing a bin bag or a scrap of cloth) and avoided the prohibited. But he, just like any other, strayed. And he was yet to get back on the right path. He'd lost his motivation along the way.

For a while, he'd been feeling disconnected from the whole world, his five daily prayers being the only thing that kept him anchored to reality. He felt like he lost his purpose in his worldly life - what was he here for other than to worship God? He'd been falling behind in those duties too - he was scared he'd let go of his foundations which would ultimately lead him to self destruction.

He craved something - or perhaps someone even if he didn't realise it - subconsciously, he was restless these days as he felt there was something just round the corner that would later his life. Sabr (patience) and shukr (gratitude). These two words rung in his head. No, he would not lose himself in self-despair. Resilience. He'll wait. Not long. In Sha Allah (if God wills) this will change his life for the better. Ya Allah, mujhe apnaa rastaa dekhai, ameen. (Oh God, show me your path, amen). He was on this Earth for a reason. It exists for a reason. It didn't come about on its own. And this life on Earth may seem free of consequence but it really isn't. He chanted this everyday to himself. He thanked God for giving him the strength to realise this, otherwise he was sure he would've been lost. He couldn't imagine living without his religion.

He was lost in his thoughts while his friends pointlessly bickered, until he was addressed by a concerned voice.

"Zayn, bro, you still doing, um, ur thingy?" inquired Cian, aka Key, with a worried look in his face. His friends usually minded their business but let him know if something was wrong. He's prolly just being his usual paranoid and worrisome self, said a voice in his mind. No, he just cares about us as his friend this ain't normal of him, to unnecessarily meddle in matters that didn't concern him, Zayn thought, arguing with himself.

"Yeah don't worry about it I know it's been a bit unstable but I've got it under control," he responded after a moment of silence.

"Be like dat den," muttered Sajid. Zayn pretended not to hear him. Things had been tense with his friends and all he wanted to do was fight. Use his fists to let the pent up rage out. So he did. Just not with them. But he wasn't sure how long that would last.

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Zayn enjoyed his solitude, so he found a place where he'd let off steam. And that happened to be the local park. He'd developed a routine: grab a quick supper from the local chippy - although he had to stop soon as it wasn't doing great for his physique - then dwell on his thoughts until after sunset, when he prayed Maghrib prayer; run down to the local desi diner and snack on some samosas and pakoras - which he also had to unfortunately stop - then pray evening prayer and set off home.

Tonight the zephyr calmed his raging thoughts, the petrichor emanating from the grass clearing his mind. His friends words rung in his mind. Was he really being a bastard? Some would describe his words as draconian, however he saw it as a way to make people distance themselves from him, so they don't get mixed up in his shìt. It may seem selfish on the outside, but he was trying to protect his close ones. They didn't deserve the consequences of his actions.

Feeling extra restless, he grabbed his coat from the ground which he used to pray on, and jogged to the local church, and climbed up and sat next to the bell. He liked how high it was, and how deserted it was at this time.

He and his Muslim friends often sat on the edge of the rooftop while waiting for their Christian friends to finish their service. The Catholic Church was much larger, more like a Cathedral so he couldn't exactly scale that, nor did he want to come off as disrespectful. No, he only climbed this Protestant Church as he knew the priest and kept the bell clean, even if it wasn't used.

He rested his back against a pillar and tilted his head up to the sky. This part of the town was dark; he could see more clearly, small white flecks scattered across the dark abyss. It brought him a sense of peace. He had a fondness for the dark he found it alleviating. Nyctophilia. An attraction to darkness and night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness. This, alongside praying, was his coping technique; he found it very therapeutic.

Zayn found himself thinking of the lecture earlier today. What did make him more worthy, more deserving of a better life than those in war torn countries? They hadn't brought it upon themselves. Some knew no other life except for war. He used this as a lesson to try harder to find his sense of purpose; that many people would give anything for a life like his. Mankind is so selfish, he thought. They'll do anything to be known, even after they die, for their satisfaction. One quote from an Islamic scholar rung in his head,

"Some people have passed away but their character has kept them alive; others are alive but their character has killed them."

Zayn quickly got up and dust himself; his eyes had started to droop. His mum would be worried about him; she didn't want him getting mixed up with roadmen and the sort. He wasn't mixed up with them, but he knew the crowd he was with outside of college were no better, if not worse. He was surprised his parents didn't object to this routine he'd developed - normally he'd enter avoiding the incoming sandals thrown at him, with threats of being grounded and confiscating his phone. As he mulled it over, he came to realise his parents seemed rather preoccupied and just exhausted. He wondered what it could be plaguing them. Oh well

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Was this too long? I'm legit shitting bricks right now. It's a bit boring but let the story progress a bit. The last part didn't save for some bloody reason so I was kinda ticked off while rewriting it. Ffs.

2020 words.