How did it feel when your Mum and Dad kept on remarrying?

Unsettling.

Why?

Why do you think?

I want you to answer it.

I would just get used to a family and then we'd have to split ways again.

Did you like your step-siblings?

Most of them were okay.

Besides him, did you make a connection with any of the others?

A few. Some I took as brothers or sisters.

Do you still talk to them today?

Not all of them.

Why was he so special?

I felt safe with him. I hadn't felt safe in a long time before him.

When did you feel safe before that?

That's a difficult question.

You can't understand yourself otherwise.

He wasn't actually my step-brother.

Then what?

When I was 6, my mum married this guy. She was his second wife.

So, who was he?

He was my step-dad's first wife's son. His dad had died when he was a baby.

Did you see him very often?

Yeah. My mum and his mum got along pretty well so...

How old was he?

About 10 or 11. I'm not too sure.

What was his name?

Yazeed.

***

The human mind is a strange thing. It holds as much as the entire universe in its grasp, but you are the only one who can unlock it. Isn't it strange to think that every person who walks past you in the street holds their own universe in their minds. They hold their own memories and thoughts and emotions.

It's odd to get out of your brain for a moment and realise that every other person has their own life experiences.

It a phenomenon known as Sonder. The realisation that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

But humans, by nature, are selfish. We only ever want to remember our own universe. How beautiful it would be if we could take a peek at the billions of other galaxies.

 So bright.

So luminescent.

It would be enough to fill your heart for an eternity.

***

My body had succumbed to exhaustion.

Blood rusts over my thighs and my sheets that are soaked with my own wetness. My body simply needs time to rest. We test our bodies in the most extraordinary ways and yet it never seems to fail us.

I sit up, wincing at the ache between my thighs and the tenderness of my breasts. I had hurt myself the night before. Worse so than usual.

I can barely join my legs together for the pain that resonates between them as I walk to the bathroom to clean myself up. My reflection surprises me. My eyes are rimmed with black and my lips are swollen from my own abuse. My body itself looks used. I look down between my legs- there are dark blue marks around my pubic area and it hurts just to pee. It hurts so badly, I begin to tear up.

As I wash my hands, I spread my legs just a little to relieve the burn, but nothing can erase the memories from my mind. Or the questions or the thoughts or the shame...

I masturbated so much that I tore myself apart. It's not normal...

Nothing about my sex life is normal though.

I feel fingers trace my thigh as Nombulelo discusses her plans for our new client. The fingers are well tended and his nails are short and neat. Everything about him is neat and tidy... except sex. Nothing about him is clean when it comes to sex. It's not often that I would fuck my clients but once in a while, a man comes around and forces me to break that rule.

I move my legs, wincing as my thighs close tightly together. He can't touch me now. I'm still too sore but his hands are doing things to me. His seat is right beside mine and he can hear every restrained breath and gasp as his fingers linger on me. I'm hurting but I can't stop the images of him and me from racking havoc on my mind. I want Nombi to leave but her presentation is far from over. I don't think she realises that our client is far from interested.

She's barely out the door before he strips me of my jacket and pants. His lips are all over my neck and breasts but as soon as he shifts my panties down my legs, he stops. "What happened here?"

"What?" I look down, trying to distract him by palming his crotch.

"Stop." He moves my hand away before he kneels down before me, gently pulling my panties down my legs. "What happened here?"

He thinks someone else did it to me.

"Nothing." I reply, trying to move out of his hold.

"It's not nothing." He presses a kiss to my centre. "Who's hurting you?"

"No one." I push him away. "Just leave it alone." I move away from him, yanking my pants and panties up my legs before I push my arms into my jacket.

"Please tell me."

I don't want him to know that I had done it to myself.

I can't let him know.

"It was an old boyfriend. He came by last night and..." I shrug my shoulders, hoping he'd take the hint and forget about it.

"Did you report him?" He stands up, concern genuine on his face.

"Yeah, I did." I tell him, trying to appease him.

He winds his arms around my shoulders, hugging me close to him. He can't see the exasperation on my face as I hug him back, pretending to be distraught. He seems happy- as if he's the glue holding me together.

I count silently in my head, waiting for him release me from his hold as he keeps muttering rubbish into my ears. It's nothing worth listening to though and I begin running my fingertip along his chest, trying to garner a reaction from him.

My finger dips lower and lower and lower... till I'm able to open his zip and fit my hands through the tight band of his briefs. He jerks as I touch him and feel him... finally breaking him out of his heroics. He barely lasts a few minutes in my hands and once he's done, I hand him a wet wipe from my draw and walk away.

I'm on the phone with my mother as I walk out of my office, switching on the alarm before I shut the door behind me. She's talking about something yet I barely listen as I recall the way his throat bobbed as I made him come. I liked the way he felt in my hands and the way his fingers curled around my shoulders as if he couldn't get enough of me. I like that... I love having men feel powerless because of me.

And he was powerless in that second. Everything in his life had stopped in that moment between falling and crashing and I was the only one who could control it.

"Amaani?"

My back is to him and I don't intend turning around to face him. I cut my mother off mid-sentence, storing my phone into my pocket as I begin to shut the locks into place.

"What are you doing here?"

He doesn't force me to turn around. Simply stands behind me and waits for me to finish up.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"The old man died."

My hands still over the lock. He's talking about our step-father... The same man I screwed all those years ago. "How?" I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about his death. Truthfully, I feel nothing at all.

"Heart attack."

"Oh." I don't want to turn around. I don't want to look at him.

"It's good to see you, Amaani." His voice is soft, gentle as it used to be when we were kids.

I don't reply.

There's nothing to say to him.

I turn around once I know he's walked away. "You too, Yazeed."