ZAFIR

The only one person I can't kill in this world, is trying to get on my nerves. Wait, he is on my nerves and it was taking a huge toll on me not to yell at him to get the hell out of my sight. But damn it, I respected him a lot to only stop at acting annoyed and bored of what he was saying. The conversation had been going on for four days now and I'm honestly bored of being tortured every single day with the same damn words.

"I don't know why we have to keep on getting over this conversation with you, Zafir," he said for the umpteenth time and I wonder when he would stop blabbering about this thing and let me rest in peace. Well, if I could really rest in peace, like eternally, that would be so much better, honestly.

"That's because this is a pointless conversation we're having with you, Jamal. I don't understand why you'll be bothering me with this, despite knowing that I'd never do what you want me to do..." He sighed and slumped on the sofa I'm seated, pulling away the bottle of beer from my hand and I growled angrily at him.

"I thought you promised that you've stopped?" He said with accusation laced on his tone. He rarely accused me or tried to judge me. But whenever he did it, I'm quite sure that he had a very tangible reason to, so it had never made me angry.

And right now, according to Jamal, his tangible reason is-I was a bit intoxicated, and I insisted that I wasn't and drove the car back home. Then we got into a slight accident that involved a girl and a baby-that's what he told me, at least. And now, he was angry that I didn't get to see the lady that bumped into us, because my head was clear enough to see her running on the road carelessly as though she owned it. So, it wasn't entirely my fault, was it?

"I said I'd stop by the end of this year, Jamal. You probably wasn't paying attention when I was talking," I sulked and snatched the bottle back from his hand.

He pulled his hands into his face and sighed outwardly. "I honestly don't know what's wrong with you, Zafir, but this is what you said last year. The year before that, the year before...and it keeps going on for how many years now? Count it yourself!" He yelled, outraged.

I had lifted the bottle to take a swig of it when his yell echoed inside my ears and out of the respect I have for him, I kept the bottle down and stared at him. He was angry, at me and what I've turned myself into. If only he knew how angry at myself I was, too. He didn't know about half of the things I've had to deal with in my life and he had no right to tell me how to live in my grief. It was mine for a reason.

"Get out of here, Jamal." I clenched my eyes shut and leaned back on the sofa, not wanting to see the expression that would spread over his face. I rarely acted this way with him, but sometimes, I couldn't help myself being me when it came to him as well.

If it was someone, he or she wouldn't be surprised that I asked them to get out. Rather, would be thankful that I didn't yell the words out at them, I said it in a rather gentlemanly way.

"You really need to get some help, you're slowly killing yourself." He said through gritted teeth and I didn't open my eyes until I heard the way he banged the door closed.

I knew I'd have to call him later to apologize, or maybe I wouldn't. Because one thing I've been slowly and painfully realizing was, the more I get addicted the more even the traces of the insignificant goodness in me; which I only showed to Jamal or in better words, which only Jamal brought out in me-kept vanishing the more I drown myself in my addiction. And to me, it was good not to have a conscience. I wouldn't be able to feel that searing pain if I drown myself more and more.

And right now, as everything tried to run back to me, reason because I had been clear headed for almost an hour, I donned all the contents of my bottle and instantly, the world began to swirl around me. This was the feeling that was second to none for me. That feeling of floating atop the ocean and not being able to drown. And sometimes, it felt as though I were walking delicately on the clouds and then not falling back on earth.

I may never have the perfect words to describe this feeling right now, but all I knew was, I loved it. It was my escape route, the one that had never disappointed so long as I'd stay inebriated. I fell asleep without knowing on the sofa and by the time I woke up, it was already night time.

§

I just finished my prayers that I've lost for the day and sat down on the prayer mat. The only thing I hated about my addiction was the prayers I lost. Yes, I pray them back when I'm sober but it wasn't like if I prayed them on time. And today, I didn't just loose Subh in the morning, I ended up loosing Zuhr, Asr and even Maghrib. It was such a loss I feel so ashamed of. And I would do anything to be able to be intoxicated and then be able to be sober enough for praying.

I guess you couldn't eat your cake and have it at the same time, right? So, I clenched my eyes shut and remained seated while I said out my supplications. I've been in my prayer mat for so long that I didn't stare at how much time had passed until a message popped into my phone. Oh dear lord, how much I ignored my phone!

It was a message from my secretary, reminding me about the meeting I have tomorrow and I scoffed silently. If not for Daddy, I wouldn't have been working. Because right now, all I wanted from life is to get away. From everything that would make me live. And then another one sent from Jamal.

J: If you're sober enough, don't forget to pray and eat something. Also, tomorrow is Friday, if you like, drink the whole beer in Nigeria so you won't be able to attend the Juma'at prayer. That way, Daddy will have to inquire about you and voila! Everyone will know what an addict you have become.

His words were full of sarcasm, but this was Jamal's way of telling me he cared. And he didn't want anyone to find out about what I've been doing for so long now. I smiled at the text and thought of what to reply him.

Z: Thanks, Buddy. I've prayed already, but I don't know what to eat. And about that, I'd be at the mosque before you, I promise.

I could imagine him scowling his face at my words and got off from the prayer mat. I folded everything and stared at my apartment, it was in shambles. I didn't even know how I have lived these days in this mess without it actually irritating me. But most of the times, I wasn't sober enough to even notice the things going around me. I called the kitchen and had them make a meal for me and while I waited, I tried to clean at least my room. Because if my room could be this bad, I didn't even want to know what the other parts of the house would look like.

It took them over forty minutes to bring the food and I devoured it like the hungry lion I was. Staring at the heap of dirt I had kept away reminded me of the incident that forced me to stop taking a maid because I didn't trust anyone in this Villa. I can't remember much about the incident but I at least had someone to point the fault at. Not that I can clearly remember who that someone is. I'd rather be killed than remember who it was.

Jamal walked in few minutes later with a takeout in his hand and he glared at me. I stood and walked towards him with a sheepish grin on my face, but he wasn't smiling.

"It looks like I should've left you starved," he said, eying the food I've been messing with.

"Oh no, come on." I grinned at him but the response I got was another glare and that made me chuckle. "I'm sorry for doing that, forgive me, will you?" The only person I ever apologized to in my life; it wasn't Daddy, nor anyone that held a high position in my life. It was Jamal, my best friend.

"You know that you can't apologize when you don't mean it, right?" He rolled his eyes at me and kept the takeouts on the dining table the had the plastic jars of maybe the takeouts of over two weeks on it. I didn't even use it anymore.

I chuckled as he made his way into the kitchen. He acted like a mother taking care of her son or better, a not so good wife. Because if he were a good wife, he would've cleaned the apartment but we both were good for nothings when it came to cleaning and I didn't even know how I turned out this bad. Another toxic thing about my addiction. It made me care less and less about me as a person.

"You have no single clean plate in here?!" He shouted from the kitchen and I followed him inside with a sheepish grin. "What have you turned into, Zafir?" He asked, his hands on akimbo and was flashing me one of those looks I couldn't ignore.

"I still couldn't get a maid," I said with an edge to my tone to show him that I didn't want to go further into the conversation.

"That's because you didn't want to get one. I'm sure there might be over a thousand workers in this Villa and the only son here won't say he couldn't get at least fifty, or even more if he wants."

"We all know I don't trust them," I tried to say but he ignored me and took one of the plates to wash.

"You don't trust them or is it yourself that you actually don't trust?" Those words struck me like a lightening deep into my soul and I stood for a minute. "I can't always be taking care of you, Zafir. You should get married if you don't want a maid you can't trust, not that your wife will be a maid, of course. But at least having her will be a barrier between yourself and that deep monster you don't trust around other people."

"Don't call me a monster in a twisted way," I said and tried walking out of the kitchen but his words planted me to my spot, yet again.

"You know you're one, and you're turning that monster into a beast. If care isn't taken, there would be a time when I wouldn't even be safe with you." His voice had an edge that tried so hard to mask his emotions but I knew Jamal long enough to know even the words he wasn't saying at all.

And right now; he was thinking of what he could do to help me. In his own way, he was asking me what was wrong, what had turned me to this and if there was a way he could help. He had used the words directly to ask me, but it wasn't like I was an easy human to be with. And now, he had turned back to using tactics to make me confide in him. If I could, I would've done that years ago.

"Stop trying to live in this dumpster and expect someone to think you're a sensible person when they see it. You need help, Zafir, from yourself first and then to whatever the hell it is that's killing you inside. If you hadn't been rich, you would've been a homeless drunkard a long time ago."

"Let's stop this conversation, Jamal. I appreciate you everyday but please, I can clearly take care of myself. It's not like I can't wash a plate or feed myself..."

"You can say that now, wait until you're throwing up the gallons of beer you've galloped into your stomach and acting like the madman you badly want to turn yourself into!" He thundered and I stared into his eyes, he was angry at me. If he could, he would give me a sensible beating to get me back to my senses.

"You have to know your words with me, just because I tolerate you doesn't mean..."

"Doesn't mean what? That you wouldn't try to kill me? That you wouldn't destroy my life like the thousand of lives you've destroyed?!" I stopped breathing for a minute. Jamal had never, not for once, spoke to me about how evil I could turn into when someone did something to me. It wasn't like I didn't think he knew, but I've never thought he would throw it out to my face in this manner.

"Jamal." My voice came out in a clipped tone with a warning echo mildly attached.

"Before, you only used to hurt others. Kill or destroy their lives forever, but you're doing the same thing you've been doing to other people for years now, Zafir, to your own freaking self! Just look at the pit you're living in. Should I even refer to your life as living? Because damn you, you're merely breathing in this world!" He threw the plate on the floor and the sound it made while it shattered resonated through my hollow body and I watched him as he pointed at just the kitchen with his hand.

He stared at me for a moment, breathing so hard before he hissed, raked his fingers angrily into his hair and stomped out of my apartment. And now, I knew it wasn't just a silly fight we've had. This was a fight, sizzling and brewing with thousand of unsaid words and feelings forever left covered. Slowly, I tried to take in my surrounding and the things that haven't been clear to me before, were now.

I've made thousands of people homeless, made them lost the luxury they were used to, made them hate this life in its entirely, but look at me now. I had no difference to them. I practically lived in a pit, a junkyard, a dumpster, whatever word that could perfectly describe my apartment now.

And instead of me to do what was expected, clean the apartment, just like Jamal thought I would-I drowned my sorrow in another bottle of beer, yet again. That was my escape route, the only thing I knew how to. And I was asleep even before Jamal's words began to echo back in my ears.