...
There are days when I wake up and want to choose war. I want to scream at the top of my lungs how I hate this school, how ridiculous the people here are and how ugly I find Umaira.

But there are days where I wish for nothing more than to be able to tell you my side of the story.

In my heart, in the stupid, naive part of it, I know I'd give up anything for a chance to do the latter.

...

Malika Bashir lay in bed, staring at the empty ceiling of her room. It had been weeks since the pictures of her were posted. In some delusional part of her heart she had expected - no, hoped - the situation would simmer down with time, on its own. However, the logical part of her mind knew that was never the case with incidents like this. With each passing day, it only escalated. Imran's post started a domino effect. Once one tile was flicked, it unleashed a chain of events that took her life from a silly teenage drama to something that was straight out of a documentary.

Random Tom, Dick and Harry in their school came forward with stories of nights they spent with her. They posted stories and photos of her, describing her body and their time together. Guys even whose existence she wasn't aware of before.

Malika had angered more people in her school than she had friends. Now, they were all coming for her.
Those posts had plenty of likes and shares. Her inboxes were filled with equal amounts of messages from unknown boys offering her to spend the night with them.

How is it that when a rumor begins and we all know in our hearts that there is a slight chance it's not true; yet, it doesn't stop us from incessantly talking about it? Malika wondered, eyes glued to the ceiling.

Her alarm clock went off, though she had been up long before it, the shrill bell disrupting the serenity of the room and the chaos in her head.

Malika stretched out her arm to tap it off with reluctance, dread weighing down her chest at the thought of having to leave her bed. She threw the quilt off her body when she could no longer delay it. The single window pane in her room flooded her bed with soft sunlight, the yellow glow making her fair skin look golden. She sat up and got out of her bed, drawing the window curtains shut. Then Malika went to the bathroom attached to her room.

Her gaze traced her almond shaped eyes, thin nose and perfectly full lips. The girl looking back at her in the mirror was ugly. Her eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep. Her lips were chapped and peeling. Her skin was blotchy and textured from dealing with stress and fatigue.

All her life Malika was told she was pretty, at the moment she couldn't be further from that word.

She bent down, not wanting to see her own reflection anymore, and splashed cold water on her face hoping to wake it up. Then Malika made her way to the dining room, knowing one way or the other, she had to face the day.

As the day proceeded, things did not get better for Malika Bashir.

In every period, every class, every break she experienced looks, comments and name callings. Half way through the day, it seemed to her the photos had reached every corner of the school. She caught people staring at it mid class, she had them shoved into her face a couple of times as well.

Malika was never fully comfortable with the kind of attention she got but she had learned to be indifferent to it; now, she was beginning to dread it.

Malika contemplated whether she should just sneak out of school and go home, but she knew that would invite a bigger drama if she got caught. Without a better option, she decided to wait in the female prayer room until her free period was over. She could not stand to be in the public eye anymore, specially under the males gazes that were eating her skin alive.

Malika took the stairs to the fourth floor, where all administrative rooms were located and the prayer rooms for both male and female. She had been to the prayer room a handful of times before, that too to keep Farrah company.

Malika stepped into the narrow corridor that led to the obscured door of the female prayer room, and the moment she did that, her eyes landed on Dahlia Ahmad.

Malika halted in her step. The hijabi widened her eyes in surprise at her sight. She was sitting on the floor of the narrow, carpeted corridor. Her knees drawn to her chest and arms folded over them, her petite frame allowing her to sit with ease in that tight space.

"What're you doing here?" Malika asked sharply.

"I should be asking you that." Dahlia retorted, eyes masking with annoyance.

Malika pursed her lips and did not bother with a reply. She placed a hand on the wall to balance herself as she started to take her shoe off with the other.

"The room's occupied." Dahlia informed her, her tone curt. "Umaira and those girls have been in there for almost an hour now," she murmured under her breath, shooting the door a disapproving look. "Hence why I'm here," the hijabi concluded, darting her gaze back to her.

Malika straightened, resting her feet on the floor again. Even the mention of those girls raised resentment to her heart. She calculated her options in her head for a moment, then deciding this was still the safest place to be at, Malika lowered herself to the floor, maintaining a distance from the hijabi.

She sat with her back on the opposite wall, so that Dahlia and she were actually sitting face to face. Malika folded her legs beneath her tightly, her longer legs making it a slightly uncomfortable spot for her. The hijabi stiffened a little as she realized Malika was planning to stay, but she was graceful enough to not articulate her feelings out loud.

Malika could hear Safiya and Natasha's voice rambling on inside the prayer room, filling the silence between them. They were clearly not even praying. Knowing the girls, they were probably holding the room just to get on the hijabi's nerves.

She sneaked a glance at Dahlia. There was a look of resentment in her face and she wasn't even sparing her a glimpse. She wondered how often the hijabi had to do this - hide out in the dingy corridor - and if this was going to be her life from now as well.

Malika closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them again and turned to Dahlia, holding onto the moment of sympathy, knowing she had to do this if she didn't want to feel the annoying ember of guilt everytime she looked at the girl's face.

"I'm sorry," Malika spewed out loud, reluctantly. "For how I acted the other day."

Surprise flickered in Dahlia's eye for a moment. But it disappeared as soon as it came. "Don't act like you actually regret it," she said with indignance. "Because I know you don't."

"Whatever." Malika rolled her eyes. "I said what I had to say, whether you accept it is your business."

The hijabi cast her a sharp look. "It's not like you were lying, you never really considered me to be your friend."

Maljka didn't even bother to deny it. "Look," she said. "I was having a hard time and I really wasn't in the mood to be judged. Sorry if I didn't welcome your gracious presence then." She let out a scoff under her breath and folded her arms over her chest.

Dahlia shot her a disbelieving look. "Judge you?" she cried. "I was there to comfort you. We had just heard about the photo from a classmate and my first instinct was concern for your well being."

She raised her eyebrows derisively. "Do you really expect me to believe that?" Malika asked. "I know how the lot of you think, so please spare me the fake concern."

The look in Dahlia's eyes turned hard. "You really have some nerve talking to me about judgment," she spat. "When you've done nothing but judge me for my clothes and beliefs since we met, without even bothering to get to know me."

"I didn't judge anyone," Malika said defensively. "I'm the most open minded person I know. I just thought we were too different to be friends."

Dahlia raised her eyebrows derisively. "That's fine with me, I agree not everyone can be friends." Then she tilted her head, a small smile on her lips. "But what did you base your assumption on, considering we barely conversed, the way I choose to dress?"

Malika's arguments died on her lips. "Listen, religious people and I don't get along," she said at last. "Never have and never will. Don't take it personally."

"Call it what you will." Dahlia shrugged. "But from how I see it, you took one look at me and immediately decided what box to put me in. So in my books you're not any better than these girls when it comes to judging people," she said coolly, beckoning towards the door, referring to Umaira and the girls.

Irritation bubbled in Malika's chest. She swallowed and looked away indignantly. Her brain started churning over the things Dahlia said, whether she liked it or not. There was a pregnant pause between the girls, as they both stared at the opposite walls.

Malika looked at her again. "Did you actually mean it when you said you came looking for me out of concern, as a friend?" she asked, her eyes dead set on the girl, waiting for the build up.

"Yes."

"If that is true, can you confidently say you don't think I'm an irresponsible whore for bringing this on myself?" she asked. A bitter taste filled her mouth as she recalled the words Farrah spat on her face the last time they spoke.

Dahlia turned to look at her. She took a moment to ponder before she answered. "I do think you're irresponsible for putting yourself in the position you did when the picture was snapped. You know my stance on dating. It is also on you that you didn't stop associating yourself with Imran, Umaira and the lot even after knowing they didn't have good intentions for you. Your friends warned you repeatedly." she said. "But I don't think you deserve to be treated the way you are for those pictures getting leaked, and I certainly would never use that word on any woman." Disapproval appeared on her face. "I don't believe any God fearing muslim can."

Malika let out a snort. "Please."

"It's true," Dahlia responded, her voice gaining more confidence. "Malika, you don't deserve to be harassed. No one has the right to bully you regardless of the circumstances. Imran is disgusting for breaching your trust and privacy like that and he must be held accountable for his actions," she finished, meeting her eyes directly.

Malika was taken aback by her answer, as well as the genuineness in the hijabi's eyes. Dahlia had zeal, this much she had learned after spending the last few months with her, even if unwillingly; however, as the girl held her gaze, Malika saw a steadfastness in them that caused a stirring in her own heart.

She quickly looked away. No words were exchanged between them after that. Malika peeked at Dahlia once in a while after that, seeing her in a new light, wondering if she was too fast to generalize the hijabi as she did.