13

When Matthew had held her by the waist, she was reassured. Amarna soaked in the wild energy of Skyline's crowd, proud of this very moment which she'd worked so hard to be here for, as she waved. Excitement. Joy. Hope. Those feelings of pure beauty in which she recognized the power of dance for influencing life.

And then she found Azad, by her feet; he had taken off his clown wig and nose, so amidst most of everyone else, he was unmasked. Vying for her. He was acting strangely giddy, but she knew, without him, it wouldn't be the same. She returned his gaze, smiling, before closing her eyes momentarily to feel her stomach fluttering, like it did all those days ago when they'd met, a feeling full of promise.

Suddenly there was regret, and Matthew's touch feeling inappropriate. Was it so fair that Azad was merely part of the audience, instead of being up here with her, indulging in the dance, the music – the fantasy?

She never had the chance to tell him..

Earlier – when Amarna had bought groceries, she was walking home; it was edging on dusk, and she needed the ingredients to last for the next week. The bags she carried were stuffed, yet all she could worry about was if she was ready to showcase herself in front of an audience again, dancing. It was tremendous pressure. Luckily, by the crosswalk, she could play a quick game of pong to pass the time while waiting for the lights to go green.

She was getting caught up in the game, 3 to 2, her fingers running over the touchscreen, when a wind blew through her being – a familiar, heart-stopping presence, breathing upon her neck.

"Miss me, baby girl?"

And when she turned around, she saw no one there, but a street of people merely doing their errands. The voice was unmistakable. It was the youthful, seductive and piercing voice of the man who had possessed her life, for six years. Mohammed. She felt her bout of confidence eroding, her stomach lurching – all those years, suddenly welling up to the surface and making it hard for her to breathe easy.

Despite all the progress she'd made as a person, there was no escaping him.

At her home, Amarna looked at the bottle of vodka, after an awkward dinner where she seemed more stern than usual. She found the liquid intoxicating, an old friend you haven't really been with for a while, and it helped her breathe again, feel relaxed.. able to forget your worries..

She still had to worry about Alex though, and from experience she knew how much drinking was too much – as she did not want hangovers over the rigorous sessions with the troupe.

In bed, she skimmed through Azad's text messages, still half-drunk.

"Studying's a total bitch," he wrote. "Was it this hard when you took art in college?"

She replied, "Do your best," with a smiley face, while she went on Facebook and looked up the name of her enemy. She'd blocked him, so his profile was effectively non-existant, but she happened to have a burner account – she logged on that to take a peek..

On Mohammed's profile, he was still worshipping Allah, with quips from the Quran that basically say a man is there to conquer what was righteously his, with the women, land, property. It was eye-rolling to say the least. Amarna looked up his posts for any signs of what he was up to, where he was hanging out, what he was thinking, feeling.

Her fingers scrolled up on her iPhone, her eyelids droopy.. still, her anxious thoughts needed some reassurance. Mohammed was still in Madrid, as far as she could tell, with pictures of him hustling out – posing his bare chest for the camera, with his steely gaze, the eyes which seem sordidly detached, the tip of a fiery, determined iceberg.

Something made her heart stop. A few weeks ago, he recently put up an image of them together, from those years ago, partying in a nightclub, where she was seductively moving all over him, her eyes half-shut as if in a trance.

The sappy description: "be in my heart, forever my angel." It had 83 likes, and the comments were all mostly in Arabic. She could probably guess as to the signs of support his friends were giving him – it would surprise her more actually if he actually repented for all the hell that he'd given her.

There was nothing to prove he had been following her around, but she was still left with an uncertain pit in her stomach, which had lingered even in her dreams.

Amarna briefly thought of letting Azad know of her worries.. from looking at his instagram, he seemed hell-bent just on passing his finals, and who was she to make him worry at such an inopportune time? She'd let him know later. For now, she had Matthew and his comforting weed.. more often, he came by her place, and she even went out for the evening walks with him after practice.

"Matthew?" she asked, one evening as they were cuddling in the open fields. "If something bad were to happen.. would you protect me?"

"I totally would, darling. Day and night."

Amarna gazed up at him, looking at his bony smile under the golden sunlight. He had such a lanky body.. she kept on saying how he needed to eat more, and he'd go, "That's just how I am, the fast metabolism's from my dad's side - means I get to eat whatever I feel like and not worry so much, heh."

He had none of Azad's sense of drive, or any passion. The good thing was that out of his passivity, Matthew was able to accept her having Azad and him closeby, in her proposal of an open relationship.

..

What Amarna didn't know was how Azad would take the news. Her mixed feelings, coupled with the drinking and weed-toking had clouded her judgment – such that when Azad had actually come by, it came as a surprise to her, whilst her mind was far, far away in a nature documentary. The slap she had to give him, more out of her anxiety bursting to the surface than anger, as he yelped over Matthew, it made her wince inside after the fact – a habit she'd picked up from the years of abuse from Mo.

She was glad though, even if Azad had not accepted – he was here, with her again. She realised how much she had missed his energetic goofiness.

When Azad had tried on the jester outfit.. in the costume shop, Amarna crept behind him without him knowing, and, closing her eyes as she leant into him, she breathed in his emenating scent.. for some reason, it made her tranquil. As though in that instant, she forgot the world around her, and it was merely Azad. This boy, who, when she was the age of 8, he was brought into this life – a newborn, pure, innocent, yearning. And what was she doing around then? Playing with her collection of ragdolls, without any other care?

She worried that he was growing aware, of standing behind him like this, so she pretended that she had just stepped around the corner – "Azad, your outfit! It's perfect, oh! It complements you very nicely!"

"Agggh, but it's riding all the way up to my balls.." Azad went. "And what's with this nose? Goes honk-honk-squeak!"

Amarna gave his bulgy nose a gentle squeeze, and it gave off a shrill squeak, like a party blower – making her smile. Alex had been begging her to let Azad have the outfit too, so why not.

By the time they were at Skyfall, with Amarna just as bedazzled as anyone about the venue and its grandeur, she was running out of time. She needed to get herself, Alex and Matthew into their respective outfits – they had no real dressing rooms there, as it wasn't a performing theatre, and everyone else was already prepared in their outfits, while Amarna worried about getting Azad to come.

She rushed into the washrooms, her kitty costume and makeup in her bag, and did the routine of foisting her hair into a bun, putting the furry thing on, and applying the makeup by hand under the mirror, while the other women were doing blow (it smelled really gross there, so she put on some bergamot fragrance to sweeten the deal).

At last, she was ready.

And as hard as it was – there was always something freshly uncertain when it came to an actual audience, it was exhilarating to have performed on the stage, and just feeling yourself come alive in the eyes of others.

She saw Azad, and he was high as a kike; he was almost whacking people with his flailing arms, and then, a girl had carried him to the halls.. leaving Amarna worried. She hurriedly excused herself from the stage, saying she had to go pee. Alex – he knew Amarna, something must be up. So he followed her.