Amani's POV

Rolling into one was excitement, fear, and anxiety once I decide to step out of the house. The decision was made following Sadiq's various attempts at cheering me even after I have barbarously dismissed him. A look of hurt would flash over him but he would wipe it off.

Days later, a painful memory of Mommy resurfaced and a part of me reminded me that my mother would not love to see me like this.

I hoped not to regret my decision and texted Sadiq that I am ready.

I am not. Halfway through telling him, I almost ran to take it back but his excitement was too plenteous for me to be a bigot again.

For over four months, Sadiq finally witnessed me smile at the delivery man that handed me a pizza through my window.

Sadiq took me to an imprecise chophouse but a minute after settling in, I had an incessant belief that the people oblivious to me were staring and pointing fingers. It only dawned in that they noticed me once I abruptly stood, my chair falling back and dragging the sights.

My anxiety had worsened.

What if they recognized me as Amani the murderer?

Damn it.

I rushed out, Sadiq hot on my tail. He clicked open the car once he was unable to catch up and I was a few feet from the mobile.

It was a bad idea and he apologized in the car.

Outstandingly, I did not want to go home. All I did was be miserable and push people.

He drove me to a location I requested. An uncrowded road and I asked him to roll the windows.

Sadiq looked on edge, he did not know what I wanted, or how to act around me and did not want to seem nagging by asking me.

I eased his situation and requested pizza.

He ordered two. After half an hour of silence, the delivery man showed up and I smiled as I thanked him.

The act took us both off guard, but Sadiq always did that to me without trying.

We indulge in our box's and my smile stuck. He found my escape again. Just like the first time we bonded, it was over food.

I hardly care about my weight now. Prison, boxing, and grieving won't let me be fat. I annihilated my box and moved to Sadiq's.

"Har kin cinye?" I am sure he meant no offense but I could not help but coil back with an,

"oh..."

"Amani, I am joking. Here, have all of it."

"No, it's fine."

"Please." He pushed the box and I look away.

"I just want to go home."

Sadiq took me home, apologizing each minute.

This was a mistake. Not just people, but even Sadiq was judging me.

Even before confinement, I was not the most beautiful person and now that I am out, I recently started my skincare. It was an escape and also something to hide my newly formed ugliness.

Once home, I race to my room. I have no energy to keep up, only energy to collapse onto my bed.

A minute later, a knock came and the door was pushed open. I don't bother to turn.

"Are you okay?"

The question dissolves in the air and the floor creaks with motion.

"Do you need anything? Can I get you food? I am binge-watching the vampire diaries, do you want to jo-"

Enough was enough with walking on shells around me, "I'm going to need you to leave me the fuck alone, Nadeen." The words are not fair but when has life ever been fair to any of us?

She gets the memo and closes the door after her.

It was brief-the interval to the next invasion. Laura walks into the room and I scoff at her tender questions. They all think I am weak.

"What is wrong?" If I got a dollar for everything they asked this question, who is bill gates? I don't know what is wrong with me. "What can I do?" She can leave but I don't say. "I am here if you need anything, Aman."

"Stop acting like my mother!" I rage, getting off the bed and Nadeen behind Laura flinches. "So, you went to get back up? You stupid girl, I told you to leave me alone!" My next words make me turn to my aunt, "You will never be mommy, don't call my name, and stop trying!"

"It's okay-" she goes to comfort me and I stomp my feet, thrashing my arms.

"It is not! Nothing is okay and you know it! Don't come back, leave me alone!"

I stand, catching my breath, vibrating and sweating.

They don't move so I have no other choice but to smack open my nightstand and rashly rummage for cigarettes. It is no more a secret and even if it was, I pay no heed that I am revealing it today. I pick it and a lighter and move to walk past Laura but she catches my arm.

Every cell in my body tells me to push her away and I resist. My glare though, I could not resist. Our eyes met and we stare, each of our orbs glazed with moisture: hers of pain and mine of a different form of it. We both are victims in this cruel, cruel world and yet we never understand each other.

"I will not continue to turn a blind eye and let you continue to kill yourself. Hand me those cigarettes."

"Don't you understand English?" I raise my voice. "I said you are not my mother!" I snatch from her grasp, and without setback, I give Nadeen a disgusted look before bumping into her and rushing out.

I found a spot a few days after I was released, it is the playground and on humid days like these when the sun has almost set, the top of the slide gave a perfect view of the orange hue the sun casts.

I sit there and light my cigarette.

As the sun set, the patterns I produce with the smoke transitioned from circles to ovals, letters to words, and in consummation, I wrote the tales of my agony to the twilight and together, we ached and wept, singing the blue lyrics.

***

The oppressed, once free often became the oppressors.

I yelled at Nadeen and Laura again.

This time three weeks after the last time.

In the morning when i have reflected on my acts. I spent the night in the playground, the sky no longer scared me. Nothing scared me. I have seen it all. Everything I was afraid of happening, happened.

I quietly slipped into my room in the morning, taking a shower and changing. I sit at the edge of the bed, contemplating how to apologize, and spent the entire day on my apology speech.

I apologized to Nadeen first, hers was the simplest. And like always, she was sweet, never angry, and told me it was okay.

I ask her to escort me to apologize to Laura whenever she gets home and I got the news that my aunt was out of the country. Most of me was relieved, I could text her, and i did.

Laura never replied and my anxiety grew. I stare at my phone the rest of the day and the next day. I avoided speaking to her on the phone once she called to check up. I want her to reply me first.

Seventy-two hours later, I breathed fine once she replied, apologizing for being busy and accepting my apology.

But two weeks later, regarding the issue of smoking and confining myself, screaming at people, Laura threatened to take me to rehab and the thought of being confined again made me yell. I went into panic mode.

There is only one thought capable of creeping me to my bones this much; confinement.

No, I can not go back. Never, ever.

I left and will never be confined again.

My point was made clear once I thrash every breakable object in my room, maniacally stepping on the pieces of glass, wood, or plastic and howling at Laura and Nadeen to never show their faces to me again.

It is official, I am going crazy.

I don't know who called Sabrin and Sadiq but I can affirm certain passages in their head are either blocked or tapped out of existence.

None could help but rather aggravate matters. Sabrin was acting like she knew it all, reminding me my mother would not want this. Why does no one understand I know that?

Sadiq's ludicrous attempt was to take me out to which I refused. I want to be alone, a simple statement yet everyone seems deaf.

I thought I was better at Laura's and it dawns in that this house is no better than the hell I lived in with my father.

***

Ilimi koji ce.

I have always believed in this. One of the mechanisms i found in pitting myself against my demons was reading. An old hobby I revived. Rather than being an asshole to everyone, I buried my face in non-fictional books.

Laura's library generously filled with scholastic and insightful books became my favorite place. Due to the time I spend trying to complete a book so I can start the next, I hardly smoke or let my monstrous tendencies overwhelm me.

And like I said, every day was easier; a teardrop easier.

I have read books ranging from Darius Faroux's Win your battles, Think Straight, to Joseph Nguyen's Don't Believe Everything You Think, to The Big Questions of Life, The Power of now, and with every page I proceed, I am called to rethink my life, my mindset, my ideologies. An abundance of knowledge and lessons in each.

My most consistent problem since I left confines is people. School is not on my agenda. I have seen how the law works and I do not want a part in it.

On days grief creeps in, my books are my saviors. They don't take the sadness away-the sadness never goes away but I have days I am blank and I don't know which days are better.

I know that nothing will be the same again, I am slowly making peace with it. A part of me died watching my father breathe his last and ultimately, most of me withered and died along with my mother.

Days from now, I will learn how much damage I have done to the people around me.

At the library, I spend hours on Robert Greene's book, The Art Of Seduction and I need some fresh air.

I pick up the book and drop my legs, stretching my organs dipped in sweatpants and a sweater. I make no stop, heading to the playground to sit atop the slide and continue while the sun sets.

It is the first time I see her, my sister holding the bundle of cancer between her fingers.

Cigarette.

The Amanah my mother gave me is something I did not uphold to. My face goes pale and I drop my book.

She does not see me as I rage. My view is coated in red as I approach her, closing the distance between us, and before she could react, I for the first time in my life assault anyone; more so, my sister. My palm claps her cheek and she stumbles to the side.

"Kina hauka ne?" The words resonate throughout the manse. My hand grips her upper arm to turn her to me, glossy eyes meeting equally glossy, flaming eyes. My eyes. She does not answer and I am set ablaze with rage. "Am I not talking to you? Are you insane? Smoking? Nadeen! Why would you smoke? Don't you know it kills? Do you want to die? Have you thought about me or Walid or-"

"And you?" Nadeen hollers. "Do you think about us? Have you thought about what all you've been doing do to us? You are killing yourse-"

For the second time, I slam my hands on her face with a wail raucous enough to send birds a flight.

I believe the world stopped after I stopped Nadeen from spitting facts. The gathered tears in our eyes crash down our faces in harmony, a representation of our bottled-up throes.

It is the first time I weigh my rage at twenty on a scale of one to ten. I and Nadeen have our differences. We have had them in abundance ever since we lost our parents but today, it goes beyond the moon and back.

Her body begins to vibrate like mine and it sinks what a bigot i have been. I have so much to say, to reprimand her, but I could not bring my weakling self to.

Everyone believed otherwise but Nadeen has always been the strongest. She nods, chuckling bitterly, "Hurts to hear the truth right? You need a reminder." Her voice is rough and gruff, clear and ringing, I am honestly browbeaten.

The world does not care, Nadeen does not care, she walks me down things I do not want to hear.

"You think not smoking only applies to a sickler like me? Wow. You are more daft than I thought...it applies to you too, Amani. You are killing yourself, killing us. Have you seen how much Aunt Laura is trying with us? Have you seen how Walid is? All he wants is to have the three of us together and all you do is make us feel miserable. You are not dead but we have lost you, Aman. We have lost you..." Nadeen's voice softens and I drop my head, biting my lower lip and feeling salt in my mouth.

"The world does not stop at your feet. It does not stop if someone dies. Is this how we are going to spend the rest of our life?" The half-burnt cigarette almost makes contact with my face as Nadeen brings it close.

"Nadeen..." I tremble, the ferocity of my actions taking clear form before me. I am not just damaging myself but the people surrounding me as well.

"You're looking for who to blame?" She raises the cigarette to my face again, dangling it for a second before she releases and crushes it with the apex of her Crocs. "Look in the mirror, Amani."

She bumps into me, excusing herself and all I manage to do is cover my sob and weakly stumble. When she is almost out of the playground, she turns and says, "While you are it, I hope you see Mum's ghost and how disappointed she is."

I don't howl, I don't cry, I rush into the concrete wall nearest, bashing my forehead. Pain surges and heightens my senses and I scream, releasing a wail that banishes every fallen leaf from this playground. It is not enough, my sore throat is not painful enough to coincide with my afflictions.

My edgy legs run back into the house, bursting doors until I reach Nadeen's to find hers locked.

I have no idea what to say or do, but I know i need to see her so I thump on her door. "Nadeen! Nadeen! Open the door! You need-" My breath hitches and I heave forward, breathing once and thumping harder, "You need to open the door!"

Nadeen does not listen to my cries and I can not live with that. My next stop is Laura's place and like the crazed person I am now, I barge into rooms I could find her.
I almost believe she is at work until I burst into a room to find her standing Akimbo as she spoke to her daughter on the bed.

"Aunt Laura." I rasp, my tone implying something has to be done about my situation.

I look like hell, Laura's baffled scrutiny tells me that. Good, I am going through it.

Her attention diverts to me and without a word, she guides me to her room. I repel against collapsing the whole antagonizing walk.

"She is smoking, Aunt Laura."I say, directing a shivering arm at her window once she closes the door. "Nadeen. I caught her smoking."

"And?"

Was this woman listening to herself?

I don't think she is but her face says otherwise. I stare at the fair version of my mother, the stronger version and I see no rage mirroring mine.

"She is smoking! Nadeen is killing herself."

"And you are not?"

Coldness bashes me in the face and I clasp my aching, scraped throat. I stiffen, "Aunt Laura... you are not listening to me, I said i caught Nadeen smoking in the playground. You need to stop her."

Laura shakes her head and walks down four steps and towards a queen-sized bed. "No, you need to stop her. It starts with you, it ends with you."

"How can I do that?" I don't mean to but I scream.

"Stop smoking and stop hurting everyone!" She screams back and i stagger, the sound waves enough to push me back.

"You want to tell me how to live my life?" I don't think. I speak and I speak bullshit. "You want me to stop smoking?" The cap covering my hair irritates me and I pinch it out, throwing it away. "What am I supposed to do then?"

Laura's strong facade melts and she falls to her bed, gripping the edges while shaking her head. "Amani, please." I know my aunt is tired but so am I.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I know you are griev-"

"Don't manage me! Do not manage me..." I heave and stall closer to her, thrashing things on my way. "It is not my fault, what do you want me to do?"

Laura begs me, covering her face with her arms as if I would hit her.

"You hate me?" I put the words in her mouth and she instantly shakes her head. "I hate me too!"

"Why me? Why me? Why me?" My forehead connects with the nearest wall I find and I continue to do it until Laura attempts to pull me away. I push her away, wailing, struggling, and panting, "Why my mom? Why me? Why us? What did we do?"

The energy to bounce around escapes me and my back hits the wall before I slowly slide to the floor and hug my knees to my chest. Laura sits crying.

That is what everyone around me does. This is what I bring; pain and now I want to take it back.

I want to expound myself and i begin by clutching my messed up hair and shaking my puffy face, voice soft, tearful, and halting. "You..." a gasp cuts me off, hitching my words but I need to do this, I need to say this. "You-you don't understand Nana..." I call her by what her kids call her, "This is bad...really, really bad.  I thought...I thought time will less-lessen the pain but it's...it's worsening. I want to get clean...belie-believe me. Wallahi. I can't," I sniffle. "I can't do it."

She shakes her head and cries harder with me. "I wake up crying, I go to bed crying. I cry in my sleep. And I just—I don't want to be here anymore. I just miss her. I'm sorry-" my sweaty and teary hands wave at Laura, "Wallahi, I don't mean to scare you...I didn't mean to, I am sorry."

My mind hallucinates and I see Nadeen holding Mommy's hand by the side and I wave at them, "I'm, i'm sorry. I'm so sorry Mommy. I am sorry Nadeen. I just," I want to touch something, feel something so I rummage my hands on the tiles, seeking for any helping hand but like always none comes to me. "I just-i don't know what to do. Please tell me what to do. I'm sorry. I didn't-i didn't mean to. If I say something that hurts you, I'm sorry, I never mean to. I'm sorry," I keep repeating and wipe my tears instead of waiting for someone to hold my hands.

I crawl to Laura and take her hands, "Nana, I am sorry for what I said. For what I always say. I am, please forgive me."

"I forgive you."

She does not hesitate to pull me in and I bury my face in her lap, hyperventilating and fisting her adire.

"I'm sorry, I just miss Mommy."

I think she nods because I feel her shake, "Me too, Aman, me too. We all miss her."

"I miss her so much."

"I know. I know." She pauses, "Amani...my baby..." I hum in between my sobs, shaking my head against her lap and she continues to coo me.

Laura grabs my dirty, runny face in between her hands and angles our faces before she asks, "Do you want help? Can I take you to get help?"

All I want is to feel less pain and bring less pain to the people around me so I nod, "Ye-yes...yes please."

She engulfs me into her motherly warmth.

Unlike every post breakdown, today I ignore the promising hands of my demons and grab the hands of my second mother, my ultimate liberator from the cage of misery I always choose.

I close my eyes and banish the girl I have been, a version aspiring to heal setting into motion.

My new identity sets me apart, giving me zing and zeal, strain, and spine.

Well? Where are your goodbye tissues?