Chapter 1
The calming sound of a man’s deep voice whispering softly, floods Remus’ ears. “ aistmai lai, waladi, bahibek aktar men aya haja, Remus”. “Don’t forget that, qalbi”.
It’s always like this, the calm before the storm. His father’s voice instills a sense of tranquility within him, lulling him to sleep, promising him relief in the land where imaginations roam free, an escape from the hell otherwise known as Earth. But there never is one, and there never will be.
Remus should know better, he hasn’t had a single night of sleep where he hasn’t unceremoniously risen in a fit of panic, heart racing, frantically trying to escape his nightmares, and it’s like that every single time.
Well ever since, that night, anyways.
But his father’s voice, always seems to be his trigger, quelling his worries, quieting his mind, making him believe again, and having hope is always a dangerous thing for a boy like him.
It’s quite tragic really, a father who loved his son, more than life itself, enough to sacrifice himself for him, and a mother who never forgave either of them for it.
Remus knows his mother hates him, she’s never said it explicitly but he sees it in the way she looks at him. Scratch that, if she looks at him for long enough that is. It seems as time passes, so does her ability to tolerate the sight of him, and Remus can’t even blame her because he can’t tolerate the sight of himself.
He’s not blind. He’s seen his reflection. He knows that when she looks at him, all she can see is him.
He sees the pain flash in her eyes, and sometimes even well up a little whenever she looks at him for a beat too long.
But that’s okay because every cruel thing she’s called Remus, he’s called himself worse. Every blow she’s delivered to his face, he’s hit himself harder, every time she looks at him like she hates him, Remus thinks that that’s okay, because he hates himself even more.
It’s cruel really, a mother named after the very thing she relentlessly tries to eviscerate from within her own son. Hope.
Remus jerks awake, frantically trying to catch his breath after waking from his nightmare, that he knew would inevitably find him.
Nights like these are always rough, he’d dreamt of him again, It’s as if God was punishing him. Remus often wondered about his religion. He’d been born Muslim, prayed 5 times a day, and made dua, for as long as he could remember.
However he’d felt his connection with God sever the moment his father’s heart beat for the last time.
For the one known to be, The most merciful, to steal a soul, that had done nothing but worship and thank him day after day, just seemed hypocritical and borderline cruel and senseless. Nonetheless, he remained Muslim, if not for himself then for his father, he couldn’t bear to imagine his father’s face if he found out his son had become a kaffir.
It’s always with him. The memory of that night. Remus. Crouched next to his father’s lifeless body. Shaking him over and over again in a panicked frenzy. Flames licking away at his skin, begging Allah to leave the one person who’d ever cared about him, alone. To go take the soul of someone else. Someone who deserved it. He’d known it was a selfish thought as he thought it, but he didn’t care. Not his baba. Never his baba. He’d begged for God to save him, to save the only person who’d ever loved him.
The irony isn’t lost on him that he generally a has a horrible memory, but that one is so clear that whenever he thinks of it, it’s as if he’s going through it all over again, another way his mind can torture him he supposes. So he pushes the memory into the back of his mind, and reminds himself to leave the past in the past.
Remus abandons his haunted thoughts, peeling back his covers, and stands up. Still recovering from his trip down memory lane, he doesn’t register his movements until he’s up, the sudden movement casting a wave of dizziness over him. He makes his way over to the bathroom after only stumbling slightly and splashes his face with cold water in the hopes of waking up fully, still groggy from his fitful attempt of sleep.
It fails.
It’s been years, he should be at peace with it by now, shouldn’t he?
However what he hasn’t made peace with is that he’s expected to start at a new boarding school in the middle of Scotland in just a few hours after only being told the day prior. He known his mother would try get rid of him. He’d just thought he’d at have until he turned 18. Guess he overestimated how long his mother could put up with him for.
It’s 5 am and Remus needs to be ready to catch his train in a few hours. Oh he has so much work to do…