Wild West of the Heart

Her scars glistened in the lights, her shadow forming a silhouette on the table behind the lantern. There was a piece of paper in front of her, a part of which was already soaked in tears- -tears that were maybe from the pain she inflicted by herself, on her arm with a blade.

Just a stripe, a mark to make sure she still felt something. And she loved that she didn't. She felt numb the past few days, after her ordeal. And that one stripe, had transitioned into several. She wasn't doing okay, and she knew. Fiyin.

Perhaps that could have been the other reason that caused tears to fall from her eyes, till they couldn't anymore. There she was, with that piece of paper and a pen quivering in her left hand. She could barely give it a firm clasp, for someone that had the intention to write. Both her hands, and her eyes were sore red. And she mumbled on her words.

She had a scarf around her neck which she slowly let fall down her shoulders. She was seated in this confinement by the corner of her room, that place could easily pass her safe space.

Of course it used to be her mother's. It explained why she always ran here when she needed to feel safe, when she was in pain. It was like her own mother's embrace because it used to be hers-

-be it when her father would drunkenly yell at her, or when her uterus ruptured each month. When she had to go through the night hungry or when she just needed to be close to Ophelia, she would be here, curled up in that corner. Unlike Obi's, Fiyin's mum left as a result of her father, who'd pushed her to the limits. She used to talk of how he made her feel and how much regret came with it. Regret that she ever married him.

Fiyin would often think if she so badly regretted marrying him, then she also felt that way towards having her. And alas, she got her answer when her mother walked through those doors at age five, and never came back. She was too young to know what had happened and her father always said, she would come back. But after about three years, she herself did the maths and figured Ophelia was never coming back. Not to her father, nor to her.

As much as she wanted to call her selfish, she understood now, how her father made her feel. But still, it didn't mean she stopped wishing she had stayed. Or at least took her along with her.

Times like this, she wished just that.

She didn't get the comfort of a goodbye letter or at least something, maybe something to remember her by, other than cheap wood. There was a part of her that detested Ophelia for that, and the fact that she was probably something now, living her best life-

-while her daughter was harming herself, and feeling like shit. Detested was an exaggeration, because how could you feel so strongly about the person that birthed you?

But i mean, she did abandon her daughter.

And maybe if she was still here, all the terrible things wouldn't have happened to Fiyin. I mean, there was that butterfly effect thing.

Terrible things like her sleepless nights and anxieties, like her having to hawk for a living whilst she was still young. Like her being assaulted and raped twice.

Twice.

It was more than terrible. It was the worst she'd ever felt. The most she ever hated herself, and in that moment when she felt numb, the pen fell out of her hands, and she brought her head to the table.

I was wrong about the tears not being able to fall anymore because it did. We often talk about acceptance and moving on from things like these, but rarely do we talk about the first few days after.

Or that very moment when it goes violent in the room. The pain and self lothe, the shame that comes after. Not everyone talks about that pain, the rawness, and the fear. All which overwhelmed Fiyin that she hadn't stood up in the entire day

-the whole day after it happened. But before then, we might need to back up a few hours earlier while Ola still stayed at her message, wandering if he'd done anything wrong. Or said anything wrong that caused her to bail last minute. He was really looking forward to hanging out with her, and it was with that frustration that he buried his head in his pillow, letting out a muffled groan.

Fiyin: Can't hang today.

Those words echoed in his ears with her shrill voice. He bashed it out in a second, deciding to take a jog. Perhaps that would clear his head off that, and maybe his fight with Obi as well.

Obi had also done his part in forgetting the incident, perhaps putting all the energy into texting back and forth with Abdul, as theneighborguy118, and he was having way too much fun with the jokes and all.

Abdul was much different than he was in school, he felt more free and perhaps flirty. Like he hadn't been jumped earlier that day. Behind that screen, it was like his oblivion, his ticket away from reality.

And Obi wasn't ready to take that ticket from him, because the moment he does reveal his identity, it was all going to change. He knew, so he just let it flow that night, from jokes to questions about each other which he answered truthfully, including the one regarding his sexuality. He'd found out then that Abdul was queer, and still figuring himself out.

He, on the hand, said he didn't know. Truth was, he hadn't given it much thought. Because it was sort of confusing transitioning, did that mean his orientation would change as well? He read one time and felt he might be pansexual but it was 2001, and that was a much ridiculous name.

He just, didn't know.

There he was, smiling at his screen again as he went over his previous texts, Abdul had excused himself for his Maghrib prayer, a muslim salah that starts at sunset. They were much different people, one might say polar opposites. But the thing about those, is they will definitely attract to each other.

And either one of them, or both of them were, because they were looking forward to continuing the conversation. Though it might have been just a few hours after school, Obi felt he'd known more about Abdul than he did since they were kids.

More like how much pressure his parents put on him as the first son, to study medicine and marry the perfect muslim wife. He'd kept to that promise, although unsure of what the future held. But for now, he didn't want to disappoint his parents.

He lived on their approval, and they loved him for that, for keeping that side of him that got him beaten in school away from them. He was their golden son, second to only his sister who was bound to get married in a few weeks time. Abdul: hi, i'm back.

Obi: oh hi.

Obi replied, like he hadn't been waiting by his screen like a dog, for a scrumptious piece of bone. It was pathetic, but the good kind of it.

-

The next day started off pretty normal for most of them. Obi, waking up late as usual from texting Abdul so late in the night. And Ola, getting back from his early morning jog. It was now his favorite hobby once he'd got comfortable on the streets again-

-especially now that he was trying out for the football team. He had to be in shape, and whenever there was something at stake, he took it seriously.

Fiyin on the other hand, was blinded by the sun that gushed in through the windows. She'd slept on and wrinkled the moist piece of paper underneath her.

And after several attempts, she discovered that she couldn't move. Not only was she numb, she also felt pain in her head which was contradicting. Her head fell back to the table, knowing she couldn't even start to prepare for school. She couldn't bear to see Collins on assembly after what he'd done.

It wasn't essentially resent, it was fear.

Because she'd seen his emotionless eyes, and it still flashed as fragments in her mind. She'd budge when that happens, or when she felt something that imitated his grope around her waist.

These fragments were sharp, and halting. And in messy seconds before she would eventually get herself back together. But no matter what she did, she could get off that chair and table.

She couldn't bring herself to stand. Because her brain was still in shock, and it couldn't give any signals to her legs perhaps, that they could move.

So she just stayed there, recollecting in each thought how slow had transitioned into violence.

Pieces of memories came flooding back to her after she had tried her best to forget. It's only been hours but it felt like forever. Forever that she had that unease in her stomach. Forever that she felt the pain in her chest and forever, that she bled in that chair.

Of course her father wouldn't come in, so he would never know she missed school.

Neither would he know of what happened.

To be continued...