Aziel’s eyes widened. He backed into the wall, shaking. “No, no, no—I didn’t… I didn’t touch it…”
I ran in front of him.
“NO!” I screamed. “Whip me instead. Please. Don’t touch him. He doesn’t understand what’s happening!”
“Move,” the guard said.
I spread my arms, hugging Aziel tight. “Whip me! I’m the one you hate, right? I’m the one who failed you. Then punish me.”
Hakeem didn’t speak. The whip cracked through the air.
The first lash hit my back like a blade. I screamed, but I didn’t let go of Aziel. He was crying, trembling in my arms, and I held him tighter.
The second lash tore skin. Blood bloomed.
By the fifth, my knees buckled. The world blurred.
By the seventh, I collapsed over Aziel, shielding him with my body, whispering, “It’s okay… it’s okay… don’t be scared…”
They kept going.
Until I stopped moving.
Until all I heard was Aziel sobbing into my hair.
Until everything faded into black.
When I woke up, I was in another hospital bed. Sterile lights above me, the smell of antiseptic clinging to my skin, my body heavy like someone had poured concrete into my veins.
And there he was.
Hakeem.