20. Rin

20

Rin

I can't believe those hunters would do something like this—actually, yes, I can. If they can kidnap me from my home and bring me to an entirely different planet, then why wouldn't they be comfortable to continue violating my body in this way?

I almost don't notice the pinching in my throat as I start to quietly freak out. Will this happen every time I want to switch languages? It is getting old fast.

" Ya Allah , what is this? Am I reacting to something or am I dying? I knew something was up with this khar planet when it seemed too good to be true."

Who knows what else they did to me? I had just started to accept the new long fall of white hair and the translator in my throat, but this new development is terrifying.

What am I turning into?

Kuret says my name again, and it pulls me out of my panic.

Kuret. I say the name under my breath to distract myself. Even in the most absurd of films that I have seen, the characters will usually share their names before going on life-changing quests or even try to kill each other. However, this is real life and Kuret only let me know his name after he's done patching Roshan up.

It is not as strange a name as I expected it to be, and it is easy to say even in Farsi.

It was kind of funny watching him try to say our names. He messed up few times, but he eventually got it right.

When he calls my name, the end of it sounds like the start of a song, which fascinates me because his language is made of soft clicks, guttural sounds, and whistles that don't sound very musical to my ears when I'm the one saying them.

It makes me want to ask him to call me Rin, but I shake myself out of it. We are barely even acquaintances, definitely not friends, and I've just recently been taught yet another invaluable lesson about trusting people.

I turn to face him, hoping he has some answers. Dread dances in the pit of my stomach, making me feel sick.

What does he mean by beautiful? My arms resemble a shakily done collage, and I am too scared to even think about what the rest of my body looks like.

If modesty wasn't so ingrained in my moral fiber, I would have stripped down right now and inspected every inch of my body to discover what else has been added to it—perhaps a tail I haven't noticed till now?

I feel like my body is foreign, even to myself. Is this the cost for calling him the alien with such venom?

I look down at the skin he called beautiful again and tears prickle at my eyes. I need answers, and the only person I can ask is him. "I-I don't understand what's happening," is all I can mumble in his language, but he does not hear me.

My knees buckle and threaten to fail me, but I fight to stay on my feet. I can't be weak right now.

"I don't understand what is happening to me," I hiss out in a stronger voice, looking to make sure Roshan is not perturbed.

I know Kuret doesn't have any answers for me, but there's no one else to ask. Not that I have any intentions to lean on him, regardless of how unsettled I feel. He is far too hot-headed and, in my experience, people like him are never dependable.

My mind flits back to Tehlmar for a second. I think about how calm and mild-mannered he seemed the entire way, just to turn into the worst kind of beast. Is this an opposites sort of situation?

Kuret tilts his head and his hair swings with him. "Is this not natural for human women?" he questions, peering closer at the new silver patches on my arms as I shake my head vigorously.

I want to strangle him, but I remind myself that he doesn't know what humans would naturally look like. His only points of reference would be myself and that woman, Ree.

I stretch out my hands directly in front of my face. "I have never seen a human grow skin like this. I am an anomaly and it is all because of those terrible aliens," I groan, rubbing both my hands on my face.

I can see tenderness in his eyes and it makes me do a double-take, but the change it makes to his features—and how much I like it—won't help me figure this out. I hiss under my breath, annoyed with myself for being so easily taken in by a pretty, glowing face.

Or that I'm letting it distract me from figuring out how to stop all of these changes happening to me.

Understanding my body as a woman is hard enough, especially growing up in a place like Afghanistan where silence is celebrated. At least I had māmān to teach me the basic things I needed to know. But now, I'm on a foreign planet, with even more foreign things happening to me.

"What caused this?" I ask again, with a huff of breath and an aching stomach.

I chew on my bottom lip worriedly, but his eyes flare a brighter green and he speaks. "Ree mentioned getting her black scales from her magnificent orange donor."

He is looking at me like he just gave me some profound information, but I am just left confused. What black scales? And what is a donor?

I shake off the last question as unimportant. "Can you describe Ree to me?" I ask, suddenly unsure if he knows what a human is and we've been talking in circles the whole time.

He could have been deceived by another creation of the genali hunters. Was he sent to get me back for them? No, that seems unlikely, though the thought of being captured by those things again makes me shudder.

"Ree is small like you and her hair is purple and orange. She has scales up her neck and down her arms as well. Her donor is a large orange manticorid beast," he informs me in a hushed voice, probably sensing my discomfort and trying to put me at ease. But it is having the entirely opposite effect.

With every word that comes out of his mouth, I am left more and more confused. "I don't know what a manticorid is, but Ree does not sound like a human."

I find myself back to square one all over again, stranded on this alien planet by myself, probably headed straight into a trap. I sigh softly and rub at my temples.

"Maybe I have gotten it wrong, as I was badly injured when I came across her. Do human females look more like you?"

"Yes, but no scales."

"Well, you didn't have those silver marks before and they look like the skin of that waste of breath male."

I whip my head around to glare at him, but it strikes me he is right. I freeze, looking back at the new silver patches.

If I can get a reaction that turns me silver, then something similar could have happened to countless other humans as well. The genali might have manipulated Ree's DNA somehow, just like they did mine. I can only hope there's a way to reverse this.

"This is so unfair," I muse, only realizing that I'm thinking out loud when the words leave my mouth. "Women don't deserve having their autonomy taken away from them like this. It isn't right."

The realization that I sound like a whiney teenager shuts me up. Nothing makes sense to me right now, but I need to just move on.

Kuret makes an agreeing sound. He clears his throat and I look up at him, realizing again how much taller than me he is. "Ree did mention that the hunters made changes to the bodies of all the women they captured, like you and your friends."

There is a great sadness in his eyes as he speaks, like he really cares. Still, I'm not moved by it. I convinced myself Tehlmar cared, despite my intuition, so it's clear I'm not the best judge of character.

A flash of anger crosses my mind at the thought of us being treated like commodities, but I am more focused on figuring out what the hell is going on with my life.

From my conversation with Tehlmar, I know that we were going to be used as sex slaves. If they modified our bodies to please their target market, it would make sense that they gave us traits from the donors who purchased us.

The thought of Tehlmar reminds me of how much he dodged around any conversation about women's rights and it occurs to me to see how Kuret responds. "Many women I have known have had men suddenly betray them."

His face contorts and his eyes narrow. "I assume those males are now dead."

I blink. What is it with him and death sentences?

I decide to try again on a more neutral topic. "Women from all over Afghanistan are protesting the rights—or the severe lack thereof—that women are supposed to have. Since the power changed hands in the country, women have been banned from going to school or doing any jobs. In a country with as many women in the workforce as men, it really affects things, especially farming. What do you think about that?"

His head is tilted now. "A lot of those words were not in my language. What kind of labor can you not do?"

"I used to be a grade three teacher. I taught children for two years before the ban. Since then I have used the only thing I have to stand on the side of justice: my time and the risk to my life."

He's staring intensely at me as I finish speaking. My cheeks blaze with warmth as I open my mouth, but he beats me to it.

"I know that staring is unacceptable. Thivoll made that clear, but your face is so delightful to look at I cannot help getting lost in it."

The compliment takes me by surprise, and I can't tear my eyes from his. When did his eyes start to look interesting instead of like he was Iblis in the flesh?

My childhood best friend, Laila, and I had a theory that men give the most compliments when they think you are dissatisfied with your appearance. I think the same of Kuret but his cheeks and arms distract me by glowing in a different pattern, making me realize he is blushing.

A blush to match my blushing cheeks. How cute.

Cute? No. Another flash of his face as he eviscerated a person washes that thought away and makes my stomach ache even more.

I close my eyes for a long moment and open them again, but he still seems softer to me now and I'm once again staring into those huge bright green eyes.

"I do not understand your words fully, but I do know that you should never have had to risk your life to have control over your own choices. There should be protectors. I will be yours, though I am not very good at speaking with females and so please do not take offense."

His markings flair again and he fidgets. He is a fierce warrior, I can see, but he is also a bumbling mess, which makes me find him a little endearing. It's an odd mix with how annoyed I am. He's barbaric, not charming.

Something flutters in the pit of my stomach—arousal again, that reminds me it is always there lurking beneath the surface. I catch myself and quickly pull my eyes away from the staring match. The familiar feeling shocks me again and I gasp softly, taking two steps away from him.

I can understand why this arousal was there with Tehlmar. He saved my life, and he was an attractive male, so it made sense. I don't even find Kuret attractive. He's weird and blurts out things like "you're so pretty" right after injuring Roshan and nearly killing me.

Interesting, maybe, but not attractive. And, I remind myself, not someone I can trust, but at least he seems open to having Roshan along. That will have to be enough for now.

I stretch my arms above my head, feeling a numb pain in my stomach and the spots that were blazing with pain not too long ago. It's not natural—I know it is the work of the genali, but I have to count my blessings as they come.

The wind picks up slightly and goosebumps line up my bare arms, reminding me that I still have them exposed. I look down at the silver sheen in disgust and attempt to wipe it off.

The strangest thing about it is that I don't feel any different. It blends seamlessly with my skin, but I can't stand it. I picture how much worse the rest of my body must look, and the jumpsuit shrinks immediately. I yelp, quickly imagining it covering my body again, ignoring the concerned look from Kuret.

I can't stand the idea of being exposed for even a second longer.

Hate burns in my chest at the flimsy piece of clothing. I shut my eyes tightly, imagining it covering my body even more than it did before. With my eyes still shut, I imagine as hard as I can that it is a floor-length dress with an attached hijab.

When I feel the cool fabric sliding up my neck and chin, I almost jump for joy. It covers my forehead, lips, and nose, tightly wrapping around my face and cutting off my air supply.

Panic immediately sets in, and my heart races as I think of it as a regular face covering. It saddens me I can't even achieve a skirt, no matter how hard I try, and I feel tears prickle in my eyes.

My body is sinking back down onto the ground before I can stop it and a moment later my arms are around my knees.

I hold tears off because if a single one drops, I am going to become a sobbing mess. I still feel naked and I hate that I don't have the ability to change it right now. I hate that everything I have ever known has been taken away from me and I have no idea how to get it back.

Hate. That evil word my bābā worked so hard to expunge from me. To help me realize it is a sharp thing to hold too close to you. Just as willing to tear you to pieces inside as it tears apart the world around us.

In the name of religion. In the name of culture. In the name of countries and claimed homelands.

But it's rattling around inside me, nonetheless. There hasn't been this much of it threatening to explode out since they locked me away. This alien isn't cute and endearing and I need to get those sorts of schoolgirl thoughts out of my head.

He is a vicious killer, exactly the thing I hate most.