Page 65 of The Mismatch

‘Huh?’

His hand curled around her tighter, his leg moulding itself to hers. He snuggled into her. ‘You keep moving.’

‘Whoops, sorry!’ She gave her signature humourless laugh, and put her phone underneath her pillow.

But he was asleep again and didn’t notice what she had said.

‘I really hate wine,’ she whispered into the quiet darkness.

CHAPTER 31

Soraya

Brighton, 2014

Soraya stared at a pile of clothes she had been meaning to donate to charity for years now and wondered whether she was incapable of letting go, of her childhood, of past teachings. She had always assumed that once she moved out she’d live the life she craved, would gain freedom. So why was she holding herself back? Why did she have no life goals? What did she truly believe in?

‘Jendeh!’

Whore.

There were loud footsteps. Quick and heavy. She closed her laptop and got out of bed.

Her dad slammed into the room, his face a deeper shade of red than normal.

‘You jendeh!’ he spat, crossing the room towards her.

She backed away from him until her head hit the sloping ceiling. She swore under her breath and applied pressure to her scalp. Her heart felt like it was attempting to escape; it pounded hard and erratically.

Her mum came running up the stairs. ‘Hossein, stop, please!’

Tyzer jumped off her bed, tail low, and ran down the stairs.

As her father approached Soraya, she noticed his eyes were dark and wild. His raised hand slapped her hard across the face. Her cheek stung. The act caused her to hit her head again against the attic wall. The collision caused a bang. It sounded worse than it felt, but Soraya knew this wasn’t the end.

She ducked down to run around him. ‘What are you talking about?’ she yelled. She’d had enough nightmares about this happening. She usually woke up with a start around now.

But this was real.

‘Zainab saw pictures of you on a boy’s Instagram, drinking alcohol. You fucking slag!’ He stepped forward again and her heart sank.

Zainab had found it because Magnus tagged her in the picture, and his account wasn’t private, and Soraya had been stupid enough to forget how nosy her relatives in Iran were. She felt as though she was drowning with weights tied around her ankles. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think properly. Her dad had this effect on her; only he could make her feel like she was drowning.

She wished she could be invisible, like she often felt, and run away from this crazy man, this crazy family that constantly attempted to control her.

A memory from her childhood came back to her. Her dad had caught her in a big group of classmates, talking to a boy. He’d dragged her to the car then, told her if she ever did anything like this again he’d kill her.

She remembered her sister telling her that when Laleh had left, their dad dragged Parvin away from Amir in the living room, and simply told her, ‘If you ever disobey me, I will lock you in your room and never let you out.’

‘It was like a switch flicked on in him when Laleh left,’ Parvin had said. ‘And it hasn’t turned off since.’

Soraya now looked towards the stairs where her mum stood, unintentionally in the way. She was cornered like a wild animal, with an even wilder predator shouting profanities at her.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about—’

‘You fucking liar!’ Her dad scrambled on her dresser for an object, any object, and threw a photo frame in her direction. It hit her. The impact with her face was enough to make her fall to the ground. Her head stung with a sharp, throbbing pain. She wasn’t expecting it. Her entire body went to jelly. She wanted to stand, but when she put her hand to the floor to try and lever herself up she found she didn’t have the strength.

At the same time, rage bubbled inside her. Why was she at twenty-one years old still ruled by this useless man? She hated that he reduced her to this – a pathetic mess on the floor, whilst her mum cried. Her mum was always unhappy, always crying. Where was the justice?