52

— H O O R —

. . .

Zahir stares at me blankly, standing behind the table where the food is. I also state at him with the same expression, my arms folded on my chest.

“You have to eat it.”

“I won’t.”

Pressing his lips together, showing the offense that I caused, he starts walking in my direction. I quickly get off the bed and get away from him, opposite him.

“Hoor! Get here back!” He points to the bed but I do not answer him verbally. I stick out my tongue and this is why he follows me.

“Zahir, stop it!” I utter, running away. The room is not large enough for our Tom and Jerry play but still, to get away from him, I have to keep my feet working.

“Stop running away, Hoor,” he warns me, glaring at me.

The table between us is keeping him from launching at me. He takes a step towards the right and I change my path but then, he tricks me out to catch me, changing again his direction.

I squeal, dashing away but then, he grabs me by my hand and pulls me to him. I crash onto his hard che