we're driving down a main road, and z says "who the hell is that" i turn and see nothing, except for a servant on a cycle gone wobbly

"should i turn around? i think its a girl"

"ok i guess"

she's in the dark, on the road, in the way of servant cycles. she's wearing skinny jeans, regular tshirt, and is high on something. she stands up, tries to walk, and then sits on the island in the middle of the road. we stop the car - "do you need help?" i ask

she doesn't understand me

i try in urdu

she says "what?" in a british accent

"do you need help" i try again

"f**k off i don't need any of you 'elp b***h" like oliver twist and his bad cockney accent

at a loss as to what to do, we sit in the car for a second. then helplessly, we start driving. then we reach a checkpoint, and against every single instinct, z goes in to tell them about her. terrified they'll accuse him of being involved. i call 15, and in a shaky voice, tell them about her. maybe that would be some kind of check, hoping i'm not condemning her to something worse than servants the road. then cars of drunk men looking for a good time in tinted cars with loud disco music reverberating on woofers. your average rapist out for a good time on the weekend.

an hour later, shocking me out of the niggling m my evening has sunk into, the police call back. "this is inspector blah blah, from sector boat basin. they've sent her to an eidi home for women, its the third time they've found her. her family is in canada.

and too shocked that the police actually called back, all i can ask is "if she was in DHA, why does she come under your jurisdiction"

he pauses amid happy resolution report in surprise, and then says "umMm" embarrassed, i answer for him "you must have been the closest one available?" another pause "yes yes" pause "i was the closest one available"

i shut the phone.