God damn them, the Taliban, he said, "they have no mercy on anyone, and many say they kill government workers and Stone ladies who attend universities." My grandmother questioned, "What will happen to you and your colleagues? They have no mercy on anyone, mom."

Father groaned and added, "I don't know. May God bless this country and all of its innocent citizens."

They haven't yet taken over the capital, but the politician might do something, so let's pray—God is great and merciful, my mother added. She went into the home after that.

"You know my classmate Zakia got engaged with her cousin yesterday," stated my cousin Najiba. Zakia told me she didn't want to get married and instead wanted to finish school and university so she could become the first female president of Afghanistan if the Taliban wouldn't let girls go to school once more. Her cousin is 25 years older than her, but her mother says it is better than marrying a Talib, and next week they will get married. I'm too young to marry my cousin Qudratullah, who is the same age as my father, thus I'll never be prepared for marriage.

She is correct, suicide is preferable to forced marriage, I reassured myself as I also thought about her.

I looked around to see whether dad and mum were still speaking, but nobody was there.

I yelled, dialled my mother's number, and could hear her voice coming from within.

I entered. I placed a pillow at the end of the mattress in the hallway. As I lay there, I had a lot of thoughts about everything that had happened in the previous week, including the Taliban, school, my cousin's classmate Zakia, 14, getting married, and getting married.

I had given up all hope and was disappointed, yet I continued to pray.

I prayed for peace and for Kabul. I hoped I could take action, and I wished the government could take action. I hoped and begged for the return of classes so that we could begin daydreaming and achieving our objectives.

-Wait to read the other parts-