Untamed Heart (a Wild at Heart novel)

Mehmet Narvaéz has had a rough few months. After repairing his damaged friendship with Zayn, he thought that maybe things would get back to normal as time passed. However after discovering the truth behind who framed him for a crime he never committed, Zayn was determined to make justice prevail by any means necessary.

Now, it's been two months since Zayn took a bullet for him, and despite the fact that Mehmet's brother Eduardo is alive and well, he knows not to sit back and pretend all is safe. He has become tougher and more reliant on himself, tries not to rely too much on others. In fact he doesn't rely on anyone, period.

However, his mom reveals that they are once again moving to England, but to Bradford, Zayn's hometown. Once there, he will discover truths he didn't know existed. Now, more than ever, his untamed heart will further test him, beyond the breaking point, and learn things he never knew of.

All Rights Reserved © Johnny El-Hajj

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2. Guilt

Chapter Two

Guilt

Zayn

            These last couple months since I was shot, I’d spent most of them at home in Bradford with my family and sisters. Doniya was fully recovered, while I was still somewhat recovered. I was able to walk around and do my everyday stuff. I could actually go out and have a chill time with the rest of the lads out and about.

            At the moment, I was really beginning to miss Mehmet. He’d written a few emails, and even posted something on my Facebook wall. Only I never responded back to him. I guess a big part of me felt guilty over what had happened. He’d been afraid of what Lulú could potentially do, and he was nearly killed as a result. I will never forget how scared he was, with Lulú holding a gun to his neck, threatening to take away his life. I remember feeling so helpless, unable to protect him from her. I didn’t even feel like I deserved to have him in my life, because during that scary moment, I was unable to protect him.

            Doniya knocked on my room door and entered. “How are you feeling?”

            “I’m ok” I sighed.

            “Are you sure?” she questioned. “You seem sad.”

            “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”

            “No” she smirked. “I’m your big sister, I know when you’re lying just by looking at you.”

            “So I’m at a disadvantage?”

            “Pretty much” she chuckled. “So what’s on your mind?”

            “I was just thinking about Mehmet.”

            “Have you responded to any of his emails?”

            I shook my head in reply.

            “Why not?”

            “I just can’t get over what happened.”

            “Zayn! It wasn’t your fault! It was that nutter Lulú that and of course Louis, for being so blind!” she said in an almost angry tone.

            “He was deceived…”

            “Yeah” she interrupted. “Because Louis was such knob to not have seen how dangerous she really was!”

            “I already forgave him…we’ve been friends for too long to allow this to stand between us and our friendship.”

            “And have you forgotten how cruel he’s been to Mehmet?” she questioned harshly.

            “I know, but again he’s really sorry for that now…I can’t just turn my back on him when I know he’s really sorry. He even wants to make things right with him.”

            “Yeah well…I know Mehmet about as good as you know him, and something tells me that he’s not going to be so forgiving with him.”

            True, Mehmet could be a really stubborn lad. He had a will of iron that was unbendable. I guess it was what I liked about him. He was strong in that way. Yet, he never really saw the strength inside of himself. It always escaped him.

            “Look, maybe when you see Mehmet next time, I’ll convince him not to get crazy with Louis.”

            “If he goes crazy on him, I might actually cheer for him on that.”

            “Doniya, please don’t make this any more complicated. As it is, I don’t even know what it is I’m going to say to him when he gets here. If I’m correct, he might not even want to see me.”

            “Well if he doesn’t, it’s probably because of how you’ve shut him out. And what about that promise you made to him when you told him that you would always be there for him?”

            “I know.”

            “Come on Zayn, you’ve never been one to break any of your promises. And don’t start with this lad. He’s been through too much as it is.”

            “You’re right…I can’t do this to him. Still, the guilt is killing me inside.”

            Doniya ran a hand through her highlighted hair. “Look, I’m sorry if I was a little cruel. I guess I just can’t easily forget how stupid Louis’s been, especially with you getting shot and needing a transplant. Not to mention how she almost killed Mehmet.”

            “I know that, and trust me when I tell you that Louis feels really bad.”

            “Well he deserves it.”

            Doniya and I looked into each other’s eyes for a long time, then I turned to look at Mehmet’s Facebook page.

            “What’s that he posted?” she asked.

            “It’s a music video…from a Maya Nasri.”

            “What does Jayi El-Waqt mean? My Arabic is so not good” she laughed.

            “I think it means ‘The Time is Coming’.”

            “I should have figured that out since in Urdu, the word ‘time’ is pretty much the same as in in Arabic” she said clicking on the music video.

            The song started playing. The singer walked in through some doors, wearing a white collared shirt with suspenders, and black pants, wearing a black fedora hat. She was smiling, and then started changing, and then started singing. She was actually beautiful, and the song had a nice beat.

            “What dialect is she singing in? I can kind of understand more or less what she is saying, but her pronunciation is a little hard for me to understand.”

            “It’s a Lebanese song” I said.

            “Isn’t that the dialect Mehmet speaks?”

            “Yes, his dad’s half Lebanese, and half Turkish.”

            “And the boy speaks those two?”

            “Yes, including Spanish and French.”

            “I remember him being really smart.”

            “Yes, he is” I confirmed.

            “It’s funny” she began. “You and him have similar backgrounds. You often times felt like you didn’t quite fit in because of your mixed blood.”

            “He does have lightly tanned skin and well…”

            “The same eyes as you?” she smiled.

            “Yes, the same hazel green like me” I chuckled. “But even though he has tanned skin and colored eyes…he’s never quite been in situations like when kids would ask me stupid questions like ‘why do you look different than us?’ or ‘why is your mum white and your dad brown?’”

            “Well he does come from a country where everyone is mixed, and people are used to seeing different kinds of people and individuals with mixed blood.”

            “That’s true…whereas here in England, the ‘norm’ is being white. Then when someone with darker skinned comes into the fold, they start asking their questions” I said, remembering how kids pestered me with questions about my different appearance to theirs, making me feel different, and thus realizing that I was actually different.

            “It’s funny actually. I can see the Mexican and Turkish/Lebanese in Mehmet” she analyzed one of his pictures. “But that has more to do with his tanned skin, whereas his features seem more Caucasian...kind of like you.”

            “True, but he looks a bit stern in this photo. Almost like he’s angry.”

            “Well after going through all he’s gone through, I can’t see why he wouldn’t be angry.”

            Doniya had a point. If Mehmet was angry, I couldn’t blame him for it. A lot had happened and if anything, this was probably the result of all that suffering. Now, I was going to have to figure out what I was going to say to him. I wanted to write to him, yet I could not come up with the words to explain how badly I felt, or how guilty I felt for not having been able to protect him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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