Path of Jen: Bloodborne (15 page)

He took a vial out of his pocket and set it
carefully on the counter. Then he took a small syringe from a
drawer and held it up in front of him. “Not so bad as the others,
right?" The doctor took a pair of surgical gloves from his jacket
pocket and put them on. He took a particle mask from the counter
and slid it over his nose and mouth, and secured the rubber strap
behind his head. “Do not worry, Jena. These are standard
precautions, I assure you." He pulled the protective cap off of the
needle and inserted it into the vial. Then he filled the syringe
with a small amount of the liquid from the vial, and carefully
brought it to Jena’s exposed arm. She felt a prick and some
uncomfortable pressure and then it was over. The doctor placed a
bandaid on her shoulder and said, “That’s it. You can get
dressed.”

Jen put her dress and hijab back on, and
began to walk to the door.

“Um, Jena,” said the doctor. I need you to be
very careful over the next few days. I need to know right away
about any scrapes or cuts, bruises, bloody noses or menstruations,
okay? It’s extremely important."

Jen nodded and said, “Yes, doctor. I will
keep you posted, and I will be careful too." She and Maria walked
out of the lab and into the hallway. Jen asked her, “Wasn’t that
weird? The doctor didn’t seem like himself today. Do you think he’s
okay?" Maria just shrugged and kept walking. Jen noticed that Maria
was more quiet than usual and didn’t walk as close as she normally
did.

When they arrived at the mosque for Jen’s
lesson with Imam Hassan, the old man came out excitedly to meet
them. Jen saw him looking intently at Maria, who dropped her gaze
to the ground and nodded quietly. The Imam’s smile grew wider and
he extended his arms to Jen, but didn’t actually touch her.
“That’s strange,”
thought Jen.
“Why is everyone acting
different today?”

Maria left, as usual, while Jen and the Imam
sat down for the day’s lesson. Imam Hassan looked into Jen’s eyes
and spoke frankly with her, “Jena, when you came to me last summer
you were unsure of Islam and uneducated in the teachings of the
Holy Koran." His expression warmed and he smiled in that
grandfatherly way he was so good at. “Now look at you. You have
grown in faith and knowledge, even more than I hoped." The Imam
stopped and wiped a tear from his eye. “I truly think of you as a
daughter,” he said when he finally met her eyes again. “That’s why
it is so hard for me to tell you what Allah has revealed about you
to me.”

Jen froze. Her heart pounded in her chest and
she clenched her fists tightly in her lap as she waited for the
Imam to drop a bomb.
“Oh no! What doe he know about me? Did
someone hear me praying? Dear God, please help me!”

“Our time together is nearly finished. There
is very little remaining for this old teacher to pass on to his
favorite pupil." He leaned back against the bench and seemed to
relax completely. It was as if he was simply a grandfather at this
moment and not a holy man or leader. He leaned in conspiratorially
and said, “Allah has chosen you for a sacred honor and magnificent
duty, Jena. He revealed you are to be elevated and given the
highest importance in the eyes of all believers. Daughter, believe
me when I say you are now our most holy and prized daughter.”

Jen sat speechless. She had no idea what he
was talking about, and it was beginning to frighten her.

Returning to a more formal seating position,
and resuming his measured and professional tone, he said, “Your
name, is no longer Jena, the Little Bird,” he said. “From this day
on, you will be known as Jenna, which means Paradise.”

“Imam Hassan?” Jen asked. “I am confused.
What is so important about me? Why am I being honored and renamed?
What does this all mean?”

The old man smiled reassuringly, and said,
“Jenna, all will be revealed soon enough. For now, you must go back
to your room and rest. We will speak more at the hospital
tomorrow.”

Jen looked toward the hospital and saw Maria
approaching. It was as if she knew exactly how long their talk
would take. When Maria joined them, the Imam took her aside and
spoke with her privately for a few moments. Jen waited on the bench
patiently, but she wished she could hear what they were saying.
“Something is seriously weird about all of this,”
she
thought.
“I am not some princess! I am a prisoner…”

“Jenna,” Maria said softly as she approached.
“What a beautiful name. It is perfect for you." She smiled warmly
and held a gloved hand out to Jen. It was early December and the
air was crisp, but this was the first time Jen saw her wearing
gloves.

Jen took her hand and stood. Imam Hassan
returned to the mosque and the two women began walking back to the
hospital. “I guess I am supposed to go rest now,” said Jen.

Maria nodded and said, “Yes, the Imam
instructed me to make sure that you do. Would you like me to bring
you something to help pass the time?" Jen nodded, and Maria added,
“I’ll bring you some stories written in Farsi so you can practice
your reading.”

On the way back to the hospital, Jen watched
the guards and looked for anything that could help her escape.
Something about the change in behavior toward her made her think
that she would need to make a move soon or she might not get
another opportunity.

When she and Maria entered the hospital, Jen
was surprised to see that both of the guards were wearing hospital
masks. When the women unwrapped their hijabs, the guards gave them
masks to put on as well. Jen looked questioningly at Maria.

“Just put it on Jenna,” she said. “If they
are wearing them, there must be a reason."

Jen noticed the guards staring at her.
“What?”
she wanted to ask. She tried to ignore it and
followed Maria inside. Once they made it through the double doors
and into the main hallway, she asked, “Did you see the staring at
me? What was that about?”

“That,” said Maria. “Is something you need to
get used to." They stopped in the hall and Maria turned to face
her. “Jenna, whether you like it or not, something changed today.
Imam Hassan has made a declaration about you. They are saying it is
as if a Fatwa has been issued. That means it is like a ruling of
law. Jenna, he didn’t change your name lightly. He has declared
that you are the Holy Virgin of Islam. You are like a queen.”

Jen laughed out loud. She couldn’t help it.
“That is ridiculous!” she said. “I am not anything special. For
crying out loud, I haven’t even graduated high school!”

Maria did not smile. She straightened up and
her nose went slightly into the air. Her eyes hardened and she
pressed her lips together. Jen noticed immediately and realize she
had offended her friend.

“I am sorry, Maria. That was rude and
insensitive of me. I know I should be honored by all of this, and I
guess I am…I’m just overwhelmed. This caught me off guard. I’m sure
I’ll be able to reason this out once I’ve had a chance to think for
a while, okay?”

Maria softened, and her nose came back down
as she looked Jen in the eyes. “No, I should have realized how this
would affect you. I can’t imagine how strange it must be." She took
Jen’s hand and they continued walking down the hall. “You are still
not fully accustomed,” she smiled. When they reached Jen’s door she
said, “I am here, as always, if you need any advice or a shoulder
to cry on."

“Thank you,” said Jen. She hugged Maria, and
stepped into her room. The door closed behind her.

Jen stood in the room and tried to make sense
of what was happening.
“God, do you see this? I am a Christian;
a woman no less, elevated to some kind of royalty in radical
Islam!"
She wanted to laugh again, and nearly tipped toward
crying. She felt mirth, disbelief, uncertainty, fear, and sadness
all at once.
“I feel like I am balancing on a knife’s edge."
Jen threw herself onto the bed and tried to clear her mind.
“I
don’t want to think about anything right now. I just want a
peaceful nap.”

She pushed herself up and slipped out of the
white dress and let it fall to the floor. Her hijab was already on
the floor, and her hospital mask was resting on the desk. Jen
suddenly noticed there was no dress set out for tomorrow.
“Oh
great,”
she thought.
“That means I’ll be getting a visitor
at some point."
A moment later she second guessed herself and
picked up the dress and hijab from the floor. She carefully draped
them over the chair by the desk just incase another dress was not
delivered and she had to wear them again.

A little later she heard a knock on the door
and a booklet appeared on the floor underneath. “Maria?” she asked
through the door.

“Yes, Jenna?”

She considered her words for a moment and
then said, “Thank you for being so kind to me.”

There was silence on the other side of the
door.

“Maria?”

“Yes, Jenna?”

“…Good night.”

“Good night, Jenna." Jen could hear Maria’s
footsteps as she walked down the hall away from her room.

Jen picked up the booklet from the floor and
flipped through it. It was only a few pages long and included
dramatic pictures of smiling children and others of proud parents.
Jen lay on the bed and began reading the flowing Farsi script.

The first story was about a young boy who was
orphaned by devastating missile attacks by the Israeli Defense
Force in Palestine, and then taken in by militants and educated in
a madrassa for orphans. He became a devout young man and
volunteered to fight in the name of Allah against the “Zionist
Pigs." Jen nearly put the booklet down, but she was curious how far
this one sided propaganda would go. She kept reading. The boy
became a martyr for the oppressed Palestinians at seven years old.
The writer said the boy was wise beyond his years and had dedicated
his life to Allah and returning the Palestinian people to their
rightful home. Jen wondered if the boy even understood what he was
doing when walked into a crowded checkpoint wearing a bomb. She
also wondered if he initiated the explosion on his own. Someone
else had almost certainly pressed the button that made him a
martyr. She stared at the grinning picture of a small brown
skinned, black haired boy with missing front teeth. She sighed and
shook her head.

The next story was about a young Iranian girl
who was apparently so filled with love for Allah that she
volunteered at five years old to be a suicide bomber. Her parents
proudly gave her to Al-Qaeda for that purpose. She was taken to
Iraq and “sacrificed” herself for Allah by killing several US
Soldiers and Shiite Muslims in a market place. The picture that
accompanied this story, made Jen feel ill. There were two adults, a
man and a woman, standing behind a young girl who wore a black
burka and a suicide vest. The parents were smiling warmly with a
hand on each of her shoulders, but the little girl in front looked
terrified. Jen laid the book open on her chest and closed her eyes.
She prayed,
“Dear Heavenly Father, please save these children.
Strike down the evil men and women who are using them in this way
and save the children Lord. Amen.”

She put the book aside and turned off the
light. She slept until supper time, when she heard another knock on
the door.

Jen hurried to slip the dress back over her
head and answered the door. It was Maria with two trays of food.
She wore her hospital mask and Jen felt foolish for forgetting
hers. Jen rushed to put hers on.

“Don’t worry bout it Jenna,” she said. “We’re
going to eat in here this evening, if you don’t mind, so let’s just
leave them off." Maria set the trays on the desk and slipped her
mask off.

They didn’t speak much. When they did, Maria
asked that Jen speak in Farsi. “Our time is getting short, Jenna,
and I am supposed to ensure that you are as fluent as possible.
Speaking of being fluent; did you read the booklet I left?”

Jen chewed her food slowly, giving herself as
mush time as possible to think before answering. “I did,” she
finally said. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Aren’t they inspirational?” asked Maria
suddenly appearing excited.

“
Inspirational?”
thought Jen.
“They
were horrible stories, filled with lies and half truths!”
she
wanted to scream. Instead, she calmly replied, “They were so
brave." She wanted to throw up as soon as she heard the words
leaving her mouth. “I’m sorry, Maria, I am not feeling well.”

Jen put her utensils down and pushed her
plate away from her. She stood up and went to sit on the bed.
Maria, who sat on the edge of the bed, stood and traded places with
her. “What’s the matter, Jenna?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Jen said. “I am suddenly
feeling nauseous…maybe I should lay down." She lay back on the bed
and closed her eyes. What she first thought was simply a reaction
to Maria’s words and attitude toward the victimized children, was
becoming something much worse. “I think something is wrong,” she
said. The room started to spin and it felt like a vice was being
tightened against her skull. “I’m worried, Maria. Please, get the
doctor.”

Jen’s whole body ached and her head was
pounding so hard she couldn’t think. “What is happening?" She heard
the door open and close quickly, and suddenly felt extremely hot.
She writhed on the bed and moaned in discomfort. Needing relief
from the heat, she rolled off the bed and onto the cool floor.
“Oh!” she cried out. It felt as if her head exploded as she
connected with the floor. The cool tile soothed where it touched
her bare skin, but the overpowering pain in her head made it
impossible to truly feel relief.

Jen lay on the floor and groaned in misery.
She couldn’t see. Perhaps her eyes were closed, or maybe she was
blind. She felt strong hands lift her off of the floor and place
her on a gurney. She was aware of voices, the sound of rolling
wheels, banging, clanking, and felt some jostling. “Please, make it
stop!” she moaned. There was a prick in her arm and everything sank
away into a vast darkness.