SOUND FOR DILARA

CHAPTER 5. SPECIAL BUT NOT SPECIAL

The night before, Dilara's residence.

Both women of different ages are still preoccupied by their respective activities. Dilara was observing the jade bracelet of the middle-aged man she helped while Bu Ruhama was still ironing the clothes belonging to the family of Haji sir who he brought home because it was too late in the afternoon.

In a simple room with a black tile floor typical of an ancient house, Dilara sat facing the ancient glass cabinet of the grandmother's relics for her. He stared at her reflection.

"If this was worn, I would have been mistaken for stealing Mom's master's stuff. But if left even afraid to disappear even at home there are no valuable objects but this is trust," said Dila in his heart.

The eyes with dark brown irises followed the direction where his right hand was trying to wear the jade he was holding.

"Greatness, how is it?" Dila thought.

The girl who did not wear the hijab while in the room, got up from sitting grabbed the dark brown veil on the couch and put it on and out of the room to the kitchen.

Intend to take a mattress strap in the same old dining cabinet drawer with all the furniture in it.

"Well, just wear this, as a necklace to be safe," she said.

Dila then brought the rope she had just taken into her room. His fingers agilely cut and then twisted the rope to make it sturdy when used as a heavy holder of green jade earlier.

Apparently Dilara was very concentrated on doing activities, until the presence of Mother who observed him since a few minutes ago he ignored.

"Dila," Mother scolded softly and her hand touched the child's shoulder.

Dila was surprised, stroking her chest with a shocked facial expression with perfectly patterned round eyes.

"Again what?" mother asked slowly moving her lips so that Dilara could understand her words.

"Make this necklace," replied Dila as usual like a normal girl. If with the mother, she rarely uses fingers as sign language. Because according to him, Mother always understood the meaning of his words.

"It's night, sleep. Although not school but tomorrow morning and language courses. Sholehah ya Nak, in order to pray for the mother later," said Ruhama while stroking the cheek and head of his only daughter.

Dilara digested the soft words of her mother, then hugged the half-large body tightly. Nodding her head in the warm embrace of the woman she calls Mother.

Not wanting to disappoint, without objection, Dilara cleaned up all the objects that were still scattered on the floor. Sweep the remaining dirt and prepare ablution so that his sleep is calmer.

Ruhama's mother made sure the door was locked tightly, not only the padlock but also the peg as a typical door barrier the ancient key has been installed.

They only live together, and Dilara is his young daughter. Ruhama does not want events outside his power to occur when he is still able to protect himself.

"Good night dear, read the prayer, yes" kissed Mother on her daughter's forehead while pulling the blanket up to the chest and then turned off the room lights before she left.

"Oh my God, thank you. Even though I'm just a pick-me-up kid that Grandma doesn't want, but I love me. Forgive all my mother's sins and keep us from the torment of the fires of hell. Aamiin's." Delightedly reciting a prayer.

...***...

El Qavi Mansion.

The hour hand already showed the number at ten o'clock in the evening. But Ezra is just about to start his job.

Drawing a site plan for the project of one of his clients in Jakarta. The 400-meter house in the American style became the choice of the owner with a fantastic budget, it is natural that Ezra is very careful in designing.

When he inked the ink to design the front facade line, his memory returned this afternoon, of the information of the girl who helped his father.

"Let me see who he is" Ezra pushed his chair back to the main desk, his fingers reaching for the phone he had placed on the black map.

The flat screen he lifted and then shifted the button to the side to open the lock. The email application that Ezra is heading to is now open showing the figure of a girl who he thinks is ordinary and even looks a little rundown.

"What is special? here you? with my servants alone still sapped them ... Lex, your eyes are myopic." The corner of the handsome widower's lips was drawn upward displaying a line of cynical smiles on his masculine face.

Ezra threw his phone back on the table then he turned the chair over to a drawing technique table, continuing what was pending.

He did this activity until the early hours of the morning. Feeling that his body was stiff and his eyes were getting tired, Ezra finished his job and got up from the leather wheelchair. Grabbing his phone on the table then exiting the study room towards the room on the second floor of the Mansion.

Cclack.

"It's so tired today" Ezra lamented as the burly body touched the surface of the bed that had been tidy with her favorite black sheet.

He wanted to pull the blanket but what power the body no longer responded to what his brain ordered until Ezra fell asleep just like that with the position of the legs that still hang at the end of the bed.

...***...

Next morning.

At six in the morning, Dilara had neatly brought the mushaf out of her house. Riding his purple bicycle to the Nyai Syuria residence in the Assalam pesantren.

Nyai Syuria herself asked the girl to study with her every morning. As the durian crucifixion collapsed, Dila was so happy that she never missed a day even though her body was tired, she would still force her to come to teach.

The shady morning air in the countryside makes this virgin child always comfortable passing through the rice fields that stretch on the right left of the road until without him noticing, two men precede the speed of his bike and tackle in front.

"Miss, come with us" wrote one of the men on a piece of paper.

Dilara shook her head slowly, preparing to make an escape.

"Just come with us for a minute, we won't hurt you if you work together" the same man wrote.

Dilara remained in his stance, reluctant to follow the wishes of the two unknown men.

Shouting also felt useless because no one passed except him. Dila cannot speak perfectly. His brain thought fast, but this time there was no idea in the head of the girl.

"As a result of not having breakfast, I think so I'm blank," complained Dila.

"Mother, I'm not gonna break your word again about breakfast. If true the term breakfast first to be strong to face reality. Yes it may be like this the silver lining, "I'm sorry but useless.

One of the men approached Dilara's bike, trying to pull an arm, as the girl looked confused.

But not Dilara if just silent. Quickly, the purple bike he lifted his front tire and then banged on the chest of the man until the man took a few steps back.

A chance for Dila to escape. He turned his bike around and pedaled with all his might away.

Nahas, human power is inferior to the fighting machine. The girl's bike was hit by two men on a dirt bike from behind who were intending to grind her legs.

Slutt.

The sound of a firearm with a silencer.

"Arghh," cried one man down.

While the other man prepared to put a gun on the opponent. Someone came from behind Dilara who had fallen down.

"Go or do you want some more? I know where you're from. Tell your boss there's a Rolex protecting him" Rolex's hard drive on both paid criminals.

The two men left in a hurry and exhausted because one of them was injured by a hot lead shot belonging to Rolex.

Dilara got up, got his bike up and prepared to leave the place.

"Where are you going?" Rolex prevents Dila from leaving.

Dilara didn't see the face of the man who helped her. He was too scared, two days faced with a similar incident made him somewhat traumatized and chose to immediately move away.

"Mother, I'm afraid," cried Dila in heart.

"Miss, Miss," Rolex chanted his name many times.

"Sh-itt I forgot she was special." Rolex riled while scrambling the hair that had been neatly restored.

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