What a great day! Jason walked me home from school, and by walked me home I mean he walked me as far as the stop light about four blocks away from my house. Heaven knows my father would have skinned us both alive if he saw us walking hand in hand along the sidewalk. Oh well, Jason likes me ever the same, even with my plain clothes and makeup less face. I wish I could be like the others girls at school just for him; pretty shiny blouses and fancy boots. But he accepts me for me and I love him. Although I may not know what love is because I have lived in this h*** hole my entire life, I do love him.

We came from Pakistan when I was three, I don’t remember much about it, except my first day in kindergarten when all the other children spoke English and I didn’t. I’ve learned now and, besides my younger sister, I’m the only one in my family to speak the language of the country we live in. Why my family came over to America I’ll never know, but now we are hated especially after the 9/11 attacks. Everyone looks at me oddly, like I’m personally flying planes into buildings on the weekends. It’s hard being a Muslim girl in a foreign country. We’ve moved over fifteen times and I’ve always had a hard time adapting, not only to life in the US but to being a Muslim women. For those of you who don’t know, there are many rules that I must “honor” in order to be respectful to myself, my God, and family. I must only have friends who are Muslim, inside my home and at festivities I wear my hijab that covers my entire face and hair besides my eyes. Most women say they feel only comfortable when they wear their hijab, but I beg to differ, I feel like I’m suffocating from the heavy fabric praying for the moment I can take it off and be free.

My sister reprimanded me today. I’m 17 and the first boy to ever glance my way is about to kiss me but up walks my little sister ruining everything. Raja somehow found the audacity to pull her older sister away, and warn me of our father’s disapproval. As if I don’t already know how frightened I should be of my father if he knew of Jason. He’d boil with anger if he knew I changed clothes before the first bell rang at school or that I have a Facebook. My friend, Ann, gave me some of her old clothes that she calls “rags”, but I love them. The vibrant colors and low cut lines made Jason smile when he saw them and he asked me to come to the movies with him this weekend. I’m going to go if it’s the last thing I do.

Decided my only chance to see Jason is to sneak out. I’ll slip the window screen out, hide it under my bed, tie my hijab to the bed post, using the long fabric as a repel rope to escape from my window, that just happens to be on the third story, down into Jason’s arms. Jason said if I have to sneak out to come we might as well do something better then go to the movies while we have the chance. I’m not sure what that means but I’m excited.

The illuminated room goes dark, as Lamia’s father switched off the computer monitor. He shook in anger as he crossed the room heading for his own. The evil words from his daughter’s blog echoed in his head taunting him further.
“How could she deceive her family so and disgrace our name with these actions?” He thought to himself. He kneeled at the foot of his bed and prayed for several minutes for Allah to forgive his families name and to continually curse his sinful daughter. His wife watched in fear from the doorway as he crossed the room to the breakfront, digging deep into its hidden folds drawing out the engraved family blade.
“Tonight your seed shall pay for the dishonor she has brought upon our family name.” He barked at his wife, Lamia’s mother.