Revival of us

Chapter 10

It was unbearably hot. The big black book on the floor was the first thing in my sight. I flicked through the pages and drew closer to my face. A mellow cold wind blew through my face. I had last picked up the book on the day Malaika betrayed me.

Flinging the book in my irritation,  my chest heavinf upwards hard. Sitting up,  I went back to pick up the book. Laying facedown,  pages open on the floor. I unfolded the creased page. Ironing it with my palm. Repeatedly. My hand stopped over a verse, I was drawn by the words written on it.

   "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.
    Who can understand it? " Jeremiah 17: 6

I read it again. A huge question mark in my head. I continued reading.

   "I the Lord search the heart and examine the mind,  to
    reward each person according to their conduct,           according to what their deeds deserve."

Did that mean he could see my intentions behind everything I did? This God of Milandi? Does he know that I meant no harm to Malaika? I just said what I said for my own safety. So she wouldn't leave me.

A shaky sigh left my mouth as I lowered myself to the sleeper couch, reading further and further. It was hard to comprehend all these words.

Further and further down the page I went. I read the next words out loud. A tug on my heart as I read the words out loud. "Heal me,  Lord,  and I shall be healed,  save me and I shall be saved."

The author of this book,  this Jeremiah,  echoed my need. A need for healing. Overwhelmed,  I shut the book with a 'twack' and placed it beside me. Shaking it all from my head. I was better left hopeless,  hope cost me too much.

Hope had borrowed me wings for a moment when I went to my father's house. Weak kneed and gap toothed at the age of eight when I arrived at his elaborate mansion. Only to be sent home with new words to add to my vocabulary 'bastard,  harlot' and my first feel of rejection. That one stung harder than my mother's boyfriend's slaps or cigarette burns.

Hope let disappointment snatch the wings and flung my little heart the hard concrete.

The second time hope arrived in the form of a beauty seven years later. A giggling,  bambi eyed,  intelligent beauty whose presence brought me relief. With her I was sure it would all work out. I'd been positive I would make it happen. But even she failed me. Even if I was to give my heart to this God. It would be in scraps. Would He take it?

My throat felt clogged when I swallowed. The wall I was staring at swam before my eyes. Blurry. Tiny droplets of liquid fell from my eyes as I blink. One came. And then another. Then another. Until a wailing sound came out of my mouth.

What was I becoming? A weak boy. Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. I repeated as I bit on my fist. Attempting to stop the tears. Unaware,  someone had sneaked into my room. I only noticed their presence when a soft hand was placed on my shoulder.

Before me stood Malaika,  shoulders slumped,  her stare laced with guilt. I yanked her hand off my shoulder,  dropping it like one would a burning coal. That fury I felt in her room came back,  as if the scene was happening all over again.

She was standing too close. I took several steps back. Wishing I could step two days back. Prevented myself from beating that boy and prevented my detention. Perhaps she'd never have done what she did. Cheat!

"What do you want here?!" The words had come out sharper than what I had intended.

"I came to explain." She said,  craning her head to look at me. I clenched my fists as she took a few steps closer to me. I moved back,  my resolve shaking. A few more steps and she would be within touching reach.

I had no idea what I would be capable of if she dared touch me with her faithless hands. Not taking the hint she moved closer. "Explain what!" I asked,  moving back,  connecting with the wall. "Yesterday. Max only came to help me with Accounting. Plus we are in a group project together so we were also brainstorming for the project."

I snickered,  how convenient. "There is a library Malaika. Would you stop coming closer to me?!"

Defiant little thing she has become,  she came close,  putting  both her hands on my waist.

The gesture would have been enduring. But I couldn't get the image building in my head of her kissing Max,  loving Max. Choosing him over me. Once again I flung her hands of me. "Why couldn't you just go to the library? You looked scared and guilty and shocked when I got into that room. Why?!"

"Baby. Please. I promise."

"Get out. Nami will be here soon." Milandi would slap me if she was to hear this. My words enraged Malaika rather than scared her.

"You bastard. You have no right to be angry at me. When you are the one truly cheating. Is this what you were looking for? A way out? Huh! Mom told me you're..." The last words was said in a cracked voice.

"Told you I was what? !" Now I was the one moving closer than her. "She said I was what? Malaika? What?!" She stayed quiet. It took every bit of my energy to take her dainty shoulders and shake some sense into her.

"A bastard. Unworthy idiot who would play with me! You are truly a bastard." Her voice was breaking tears pooling in her eyes.

Trembling hands covered my ears. Bastard,   unworthy. Bastard,  unworthy. Those words were so familiar. Eight years ago's events mixed with today's words.

She was moving. Her lips were moving but I could barely hear a thing. Arms were on me. Steam milling from my ears. The arms on my waist suffocated me. I needed them off me.

Bastard. Unworthy. Ha. Bastard. Unworthy. A voice mocked in my head. Kisses were being peppered all over my chest. Another weight put on the already heavy load on my chest. It was suffocating. I needed it off me.

Panting like a dog. With all my might, I flung whatever was on me. A loud gasp followed by a loud thud sounded  through the room.

Mom and Milandi came in. Black. Then blurry. Then clear my vision went. Reverse. Clear,  blurry then black. Mom,  Milandi stood before me. Where was Malaika?

'Breathe,' A clear voice said to me. 'Breathe.' I complied. Slow breaths. I don't know how long it took me to calm down. But by the time sirens rang and a stroller was being carried into my room. I was sober. My vision clear. Present.

How I wished they had arrived a few minutes earlier. So I wouldn't have seen them wheeling an unconscious Amara out of my room.

And I awaited the thunderstorms.