Barakah

- 29

18/7/2022.
You guys are in for a wild ride with this one. I promise you :>

Barakah

  
The fatal woman she carved forged from the thick, dark bloody color of her lips. So dark, that however little she moved or creased her lips, it left expression on her face. Her cheeks bared their own streak of blush hues. Her lids winged. Her eyes lined with kohl.

It was a look that suited Sin City. It was approved by the devils and the deviants. It was for the glitz of Las Vegas.

True to herself as the weather raged with unsparing heat, she could not, for the life of her, bare the hyper-reality of the city but for Yahya: why simply not?

Fresh out of high school, she was seventeen and she had an older brother and that was it. That explained the crippling fascination both her uncle and brother had about how she spent her time.

And for peace to rain, sometimes she would give into their suggestions. Allow them the grace of her time. Just this time, she couldn't have regretted it anymore than she could go back to the past and decline the plans her older brother had.

When he suggested they tour a bit of the country after they had watched one of those coming of age movies, it didn't sound so bad then. If anything, it piqued her interests for explore and the later thrill of filling Ameenah out on every detail and new things she would encounter.

It was a decision made without premeditation as she continued to scowl at her plate of food. She did not like the Cafe. The noisiness that hammered into the space of her mind. She didn't like the voices of strangers in there. Like barging neighbors. Most especially, most core and the icing on the cake, she certainly did not like her food.

She heard her company laugh over her moment of thinking. Raising her head, her scowl deepened. Her gaze seized on her older brother like a fist grip and it held nothing but ice. Cold. Damning ice.

"Tell these girls to leave us alone." She spoke in her mother tongue. The one inherited from her mother.

Her brother did not seem to mind that she was pissed at him. He was having fun and whenever Yahya played, he played hard.

He simply did not even bother to look at her when he said, no.

She looked around the place, finding an empty table near a window, picking up her water and leaving her food, she left the table. Allowing Yahya to have his dalliances. She was old enough that he no longer bothered to hide how much of an idle flirt he was. Worst of all, he knew how attractive he was.

A pretty, pretty boy.

Crossing to a new table, she ordered a slice of cake so they wouldn't kick her out. She didn't want to spend the rest of her day in a hotel room. Pulling out a book from her bag, she began to indulge herself when she felt the chair next to her moan.

Thinking it was her brother she hissed, "Leave me alone Yahya before your new friends make a debut here as well."

The laugh that vibrated in her eardrums did not sound like Yahya. Did not sound anything at all like him enough to make her tear her gaze out of her book and look towards her former table.

Yahya was still there. So preoccupied by the company of those women. Barakah watched him for a still moment. The fingers that held her book grazing the pages. Yahya was good with women. Good to women. She would tell a lie if she said she couldn't understand why those three white girls bothered with him. From a glance, no one would deny her brother was attractive. From small talks, women could tell he was the kind of man they read about. Those males written by females. And women fawned over that character. After all, that man from the book was fictional, unattainable, unreal. So she couldn't fault them for being glamoured by what they all assumed did not and could not exist.