“Nuriyah, could you please come to the front door?”
The teenager looked up, blinking in surprise, and exchanged a confused look with her three sisters. The tone in her mother's voice was one of apprehension and nervousness. Their mother worried often, certainly, but she rarely voiced it. As if to add to the odd situation, they then heard her call for their father. Nuriyah bolted to her feet, and charged downstairs, holding the folds of her long skirt in her fist. It was hard, trying to readjust to the customs of her homeland after having been away for close to three years, but she didn't have time to worry about that.
She nearly ran right into her father on the way down, and they exchanged a puzzled look. After a mutual shrug, her father strode to the front of the house with her in his wake. Her mother stood at the door, her hand on the handle with it slightly ajar, and was staring at them, wide-eyed, the color rapidly draining from