7th February, 2017.
MDC Brooklyn,
New York City, America.
"Rabia! You have a visitor"
Rabia looked up from her metal bunk, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Excuse me, did you just say that I have a visitor?"
"No. I said your village people are here" The woman rolled her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her tone and words. She had been around people from different races that she had eventually picked up some of their wordsâincluding Nigerians. Though Rabia is one of the few Nigerians that are in the prison, the rest weren't exactly Nigerians anymore since they all either have their American citizenship or green card but that didn't stop them from speaking like typical Nigerians.
Rabia fought the need to roll her eye at the woman knowing that unlike the doctor, she won't get away with it this time around. She sat up carefully, though wincing slightly. She got off the bunk just as the cop opened the cell that she was in after putting hand cuffs on her, some of her roommates whom were in there followed her with their gazes, wondering who could be the one visiting her.
She had been in that place for ten years, and not once has anyone ever visited her since the day Maria did.
Frankly speaking, even she was astounded. Her brows drew together in confusion as her lips tilted down slightly. She racked her brain, thinking of who her visitor could be but all her mind came up with was blank. Nothing. There was no one who knew or cared about her that would visit her.
She had no one.
Nevertheless, she followed the female cop who led her to the visiting room where other inmates were with their visitors. There were only a couple though, four to precise.
Rabia placed her hand over where her stab injury is, limping slightly due to the wound that was still at its awake. It hurts with every slight movement she makes. It makes her think that maybe the doctor didn't give her any pain killers. She wouldn't be surprised if that turns out to be the case, it wasn't the first time anyways.
The veil she used to cover her wild and untamed hair, slipped backwards slightly because of how small it is. Every other veil she manages to get were either stolen or shredded. Same thing goes for all the mats she and the other Muslims use to pray on.
The cop gestured to a person that was seated alone in a table for two, the person's back facing them. Rabia threw the cop a confused looked but still, made her way towards the person cautiously. Hand over her shirt covering up the bandaged area of the wound, brows drawn incredibly closer and eyes slightly narrowed, she reached the person.
It was a woman.
Rabia couldn't see her face clearly though so she walked around the table ever so slowly, her eyes focused on the woman she had never seen before.
The woman who sat with legs crossed and hands folded on the table looked up when she heard Rabia's footsteps. Her eyes flicked to Rabia, their gaze meeting for the first time. Both women stopped what they were doing and took in the look of the other
Rabia's eyes raked over the woman's figure. By the looks of it, she's much taller than Rabia. She was dressily chicly in a sweater tucked in some sort of pants and covered with a coat that without a doubt seemed expensive, designer maybe. She had a veil wrapped into a turban cap covering her hair. A bag sat on top of the table that separates them, under which a folder of some sort lies.
The lady stood up, a small grin taking over her features, making the corner of her eyes wrinkle slightly, "Rabia, am I right?" She asked, her Nigerian accent distinct. Yet something about the way she speaks and carries herself makes Rabia believe that she's one of the upper class Nigerians.
Rabia nodded curtly, eyes full of curiosity watching the woman up close.
The woman's smile widened as she extended her hands out for a handshake, putting the wristwatch strapped around her wrist visible, "I'm Attorney Zarah Gwalabe"
Rabia nodded, still not understanding why the woman was there. What business does she have with an attorney when she had already been convicted ten years ago, she's basically a hopeless case. Her eyes narrowed at the Attorney's outstretched hands, refusing to take it.
The attorney didn't let it bother her though. She retracted her hand, eyes discreetly looking over her shoulder to glance at the guards that stood stiffly, waiting for any form of interaction that will force them to step in. She then looked back at Rabia, her grin turning into a smile, "You can either go back and rot in prison, or you'll sit down and we'll have a civil conversation. The choice is yours"
Rabia hesitated for a while. But when she realized that there's no harm in listening to the woman, mostly because she seemed to know what she's doing, she sat down on the bench opposite her, wincing slightly from the movement.
Attorney Zarah Gwalabe sat back down on her seat; noticing Rabia's wince but refusing to say a word on it. "I don't think there's need for any introductions. I'll just get straight to the topic" She raised a perfectly arched brow, silently asking Rabia if she could go ahead.
"Which is?" Rabia spoke for the first time since the two met.
"I have been looking into your case for a while now and I've noticed some certain loopholes in it"
"Why have you been looking into my case? Something that happened ten years ago?"
Attorney Zarah Gwalabe only smiled, one that indicated that she knows more than she's letting on, "Let's just say your particular case intrigues me out of all others" She folded her arms over her torso as she crossed her legs.
"You don't even know me" Rabia stated as a matter of fact. It all seemed too good to be true. Otherwise an attorney popping up on a person's case after a decade is now the new normalâshe doubts it.
"I know enough" The Attorney responded, not taking any of Rabia's acts to heart. She understood how conflicted she must've felt after losing hope for so long, someone just shows up and seems to want to help you. She had been in similar situations before with other people.
"Let's be honest though" Rabia ignored the pain in her abdomen and placed both hands on the table between them, the cuffs only allowing limited movement, "Why are you really here? What do you want?"
"I want to get you out of here"
Rabia stilled. Her shoulders stiffened as she tried to register the woman's words, "What's the catch? What's in it for you?"
"That's for me to know, and you to find out"
~*~
21st February, 2017.
Rabia's eyes flickered to the cop that stood by the giant steel gate, fiddling with the lock. It looked and felt surreal as her eyes followed the woman's hands and work.
With a snap, it unlocked.
The woman held the handle and drag it open. Immediately the blinding light made Rabia shut her eyes shut but she opened it after a while of getting accustomed to it.
"You're free" The female cop exclaimed with fake enthusiasm and a wide smile that she was without a doubt feigning.
Rabia hesitated for a while, her eyes eying the door as if she couldn't believe that was actually happening.
"So? You leaving or what?" The cop's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
Almost as if her feet burned, she all but sprinted past the gate that she had been confined it for as long as she could remember.
"I would say I hope you don't come back but then again, you don't have much time out"
Rabia ignored the woman's words as her eyes moved around the place that she didn't remember. She wasn't exactly paying attention to the surrounding when she was brought there.
However, this time, it was different.
She is free! Free at last.
"Alhamdullilah" She muttered.
~*~
Rabia's eyes stayed focus on the view of the city that never sleeps. Her hands were folded over her torso as she stood in front of the glass wall of Attorney Zarah Gwalabe's apartment, where she would be staying in until they figured out what to do next.
It took two weeks but the Attorney stuck to her words, she did get her out of prison, but only for a month. That was all she got the court to grant her.
A month to prove Rabia's innocence else it's over for her. She would be thrown back in jail and nothing could ever bring her out until she's done serving the rest of the 9 years left for her.
Attorney Zarah Gwalabe picked her up from the prison and brought her to her apartment. Within the two weeks she had been working to grant bail for Rabia, she had thought hard and prepared everything they would possibly need to prove the girl's innocence.
A small part of Rabia scolds her for blindly trusting the Attorney. However, the woman has done nothing for her to question her sincerity or anything.
"Here" Attorney Zarah said, handing a mug of something to Rabia who glanced at it for a second, before taking it out of her hold. The sweater Zarah gave her provided her the much needed warmth she needs due to the winter. However, a mug of whatever she gave her would help more.
It didn't help that she was starving also. Zarah didn't have any food left so she ordered one. It hasn't arrived yet so she settled them both for a cup of lattes.
"Thank you" Rabia muttered. The slight American accent she has due to staying with Americans in prison for a decade slightly different from Zarah's. Basically, everything she knows English related, she learnt them there since she didn't have any qualitative education, that includes the language itself. Hence, the accent.
She brought the mug to her lips and took a sip of it. It was nothing like she had ever tasted, and surprisingly, she liked it. So, she took more gulps from it greedily. Zarah noticed but she didn't say anything.
"It feels surreal" Rabia commented after a while of silence. She didn't move her eyes from the buildings that were mostly covered in snowflakes. Still, people buzzed about.
"You better believe it because we have a lot to do" Zarah said, sipping the latte. The taste made her close her eyes to relish it. Nothing calms her down like a warm mug of latte on a hectic day.
"So I only have a month yeah?"
"Yes"
Rabia sighed deeply, clenching her eyes shut as her hold around the mug tightened, "I can't go back to prison" She muttered but Zarah heard her. She opened her eyes, moving her gaze to the Attorney that stood a couple of feet beside her, "I didn't kill him. I swear I didn't" She repeated the statement that she hasn't uttered since that fateful day.
It didn't seem to matter then. They wouldn't believe her.
However, she felt like Attorney Zarah would. Why else would she get her out of prison to prove her innocence if she didn't believe her?
Zarah stared at her with a small smile on her face, "I believe you" She watched as relief washed over Rabia's face. "However," This caused Rabia's eyes to widen slightly, a brow quirked up, "That doesn't mean that everyone would"
"They didn't before, why would they now?"
"Don't you remember anything from your first day here? Anything that seemed suspicious or out of place before what happened?" She asked the questions that had been running in her head since she heard of Rabia's case.
Rabia sighed and shook her head, "I was twelve. My memories of then are fuzzy, I can't remember much"
"That's what I thought" Zarah muttered, her brows drew close in thought. Just then, the doorbell dinged making both their gazes snap to the door. "That must be the food we ordered" She said placing the mug on the table beside her.
Making her way to the door, she slipped her hand in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her card. She then opened the door and collected the food from the delivery man, handing him her card in the process. Once he's done with it, he handed it back to her before she closed the door after thanking him. "Let's eat first. Everything works out after eating food" She said making Rabia smile.
~*~
"Thank you for coming Doctor" Zarah shook hands with the doctor that just showed up. It's been an hour since they'd eaten the food they ordered and true to Zarah's words, she thought of a solution after waiting.
And that's where the doctor comes in.
Rabia stood up from the couch she's sitting in. One hand tucked in the pocket of the denim she has on awkwardly, she stretched her hand and shook that of the doctor's. The woman offered her a smile along with it. "Hello"
"Please sit" Zarah gestured to a couch for the doctor to sit on. She sat opposite her, with Rabia seated beside her. Rabia couldn't help but stare at her in awe with the way she carried herself. Shoulders squared, legs crossed and hands rested on her thigh, Attorney Zarah held her chin up and spoke with utmost confidence, one that she always wished she had.
One that she had only seen in a girl she had known as a child.
"This is the lady I was telling you about," She gestured to Rabia who the doctor glanced at before she nodded, "She needs to remember something from about a decade ago but she says her memory is fuzzy"
"A decade ago means that she was in her early teen years right?" The doctor asked making both women nod. "To be honest with you, children often confuse their memories from the age of thirteen downwards. Suppose she remembers what happened, and she believes it's accurate, it might turn out to be not"
Zarah's brows furrowed as her lips tilted down slightly, "So what you're saying it basically, even if she remembers, no one would believe her if presented in court because every doctor's statement will be the same as yours"
The doctor nodded. "What she thought and believed happened, might not exactly be correct. She might have it totally wrong, or slightly mistaken in rare cases. Take for instance she thinks she saw someone familiar in the past, she might be wrong especially after experiencing a traumatic event"
Zarah sighed deeply, eyes flickering close. "I guess we have to do this then"
"Do what?" Rabia asked, speaking for the first time since the doctor arrived.
Zarah turned to look at Rabia. A sheer look of determination masking her features. She extended her hand to where a couple of folders lay on the table that was in front of them. She picked one up and opened it, picking something out of it, "We have to go back to Nigeria" She handed a passport to Rabia.
~*~
NNAMDE AZIKWE AIRPORT,
ABUJA, NIGERIA.
23RD FEBRUARY, 2017.
If you had told Rabia that she'd step foot in Nigeria ever again, she would've laughed at you and then asked which mental asylum you escaped from. But there she stood, beside Attorney Zarah Gwalabe, hand wrapped firmly around the suitcase she had with her.
She didn't have much outfitsâor any to begin with. However, Zarah made sure to buy her enough to fill up a suitcase.
Being the airport felt like déjà vu. It was nostalgic. It brings back memories that had her holding back her tears as she remembered how drastically her life changed in just a matter of days.
Who would've thought that she, Rabia would leave Amurka and enter a flying bird again?
"Let's go, Rahma" Zarah said to Rabia who blinked. It would take a while for her to get accustomed to being called that.
Before she was released, one of the conditions Zarah made sure she got approved for her was that she could use a new identity because if she really isn't the murderer, then her life would be in danger if the murderer finds out she's out and looking for him or her. Whoever it is.
And lucky for her she gets to pick the name she wants to use. She picked the one that came to her mind knowing that it will keep her motivated to clear her name.
She followed Attorney Zarah Gwalabe closely, both women dragging their suitcases along with them. That was until Rabia stopped in her tracks. Eyes widened slightly, she saw...her.
~*~
Double update!
I'm done.
Ciao!
Love, Jannah â¤ï¸