The Mark of Innocence: Chapter 9 Pg 108 - Page 3

Thank you so much for your initial responses, a couple of people have asked me to write a prologue, to be honest I don't even know how to write one that would capture the essence of this story.

So, what I will do is post the first chapter so you can get a feel of story and what it will be based around. But it will only be one chapter until I finish posting one of the others.

If this is ok with you, will post later today.

Lots of love to you all

Saima

One

16th September 2003 was the fateful day when a coach carrying 28 passengers lost control and cut the lives of 17 people short. Amidst the chaos and confusion sat five children surrounded by screams, blood, smoke and fear, they were five children who came from different walks of live to face the same destiny, five children that had just had their parents taken away from them. 16th September 2003 a day that no one was going to forget, the day that changed the lives of these young innocent lives for the rest of their lives.

Before they really had a chance to understand what was going on the five children found themselves in an orphanage in Delhi. Scared and unable to speak they stood together looking back at the strange faces that looked down on them 'these three can be placed in room 2b and take these two to room 1C' an elderly lady said. One of the workers from the orphanage took one boy and two young girls to room 2b, as they entered the room they saw three beds, a table and chair and a small cupboard in the corner of the room, the room was basic in its decoration but looked comfortable enough 'you children wait here, someone will come to talk to you soon'.

The boy who had been holding on tightly to the little girl who stood beside him moved to sit on the bed furthest away, leaving the other tearful girl to slowly move and sit on one of the other beds. 'Wh...What is your name' the little girl asked 'Zoya...Zoya Farooqui' she whispered in a broken voice 'What is your name?' I am Najma and this is my Bhaijaan Asad'. Zoya looked at the boy who sat there expressionless; she gave him a faint smile but received nothing in return.

The elderly lady that they first met upon their arrival came in to address them; behind her was another younger girl who had three bags in her hand. 'My name is Mrs Kaur; I am the head of this house. I can understand that you are feeling scared and somewhat confused, but don't worry we are all here to help you' Mrs Kaur looked at the young girl who then and gave Najma, Asad and Zoya a bag each 'you will find some new clothes, shoes, things you need like a tooth brush, soap, hair brush and other essentials. You will also find some books and stationery; we have classes here every morning, teaching English, Maths, History and Music. Classes that you will need to attend and participate in' 'Mrs Kaur...how long are we here for...when can we go home?' Najma asked in her innocent voice. Mrs Kaur walked up to Najma and gave her a hug and at the same time looked to Asad to give him a reassuring smile 'soon beta' was all she said before she walked out leaving three beautiful children who for reasons better known to Allah were never going to see their families again.

Najma tried hard to take off her top off to change but couldn't, Zoya saw her struggling and quickly ran to her 'can I help?' Najma smiled and nodded her head, Zoya helped take her top off and change into her night clothes 'thank you Api...can I call you Api?' Zoya smiled 'yes you can' Zoya sat down with her and started talking to his exceptionally well behave 4 year old, she didn't understand what was going on, she just thought they were waiting for her parents to come and pick them up. Zoya who was 7 and Asad who was 8 understood the reality they faced, it was hard and in their plight they stood alone but they had to be strong, Asad needed to be for Najma and Zoya had no one so needed to be for herself.

Asad stood by the door watching his little sister laugh and play with this girl, who looked so innocent but was also so mature for her age. 'You know Najma when you laugh so much all your cheeks go red...just like a tomato...I think I will call you Tamatar...what say?' Najma started to giggle 'I am not a Tamatar...I am Najma' Asad couldn't help laughing at his sisters response, Zoya and Najma looked up to see Asad by the door laughing out loud so much that they also started laughing too. And it was at that very moment that the three of them formed a bond that was going to keep them together.

As the three of them settled into their new homes they learnt that the other two children they came in with had already left, their extended families had found them and took them back. Neither Zoya or Asad had extended families, Zoya just knew of her mum, her dad was alive but she didn't know who he was, only that he lived in Mumbai with his new family, having lost her mum in the accident Zoya was now alone. Asad and Najma lost both their parents and also had no one that would come and take them away from here.

Where they spent days laughing and playing, they also spent secretly crying. For children so young it wasn't easy coming to terms with the loss of the only people they knew. They supported each other, Zoya took care of Najma as if she was her child, and Asad looked out for them both as if they were solely his responsibility. Where Najma and Zoya were a little loud and larger than life Asad was little more conservative, not to say he didn't know how to have fun or talk, the number of fights him and Zoya had were endless but when it mattered the most they were always there for one another.

During their time there they saw many children come and go, sometimes they were happy and other times they were sad as their eyes still searched for that one person to walk through those doors and take them to a place they could truly call home.