❝it's not the same anymore
i lost the joy in my face
my life was simple before.❞
MAY 6,
six days after the funeral.
NISHA
was the spitting image of her father. she had always been told so. the same dark almond-shaped eyes, so pronounced that you couldn't tell the difference from the iris, and which she elongated with a daily line of eyeliner, came from her father. her sunken cheeks and marked jawline were from her father. her radiant smile, which contrasted with her ebony skin, was usually the one her father wore whenever they sang at the top of their lungs to their favourite songs. her luscious lips, which nisha used to enhance with brown lipstick, were the feminine version of her father's. her afro, which had become so voluminous over the years, was of the same nature as her father's. nisha was her father. the only thing that differed between their two faces was the girl's nose, which she had taken from her indian mother and dressed up with a piercing, like her mother.
on the character side, the same thing could be observed: same humour, same taste in music, same kindness, the same gleam in the eye, same daring style of dress. same person. and what she considered the greatest blessing not even a fortnight ago, was slowly turning into her worst nightmare. her adoration for her features before, proud to look like someone she admired so much, had melted away as quickly as she had seen herself in a mirror after the funeral. since then it had become impossible for her to walk past one. her reflection reminded her so much of her father that the sight of it was now unbearable. no more pictures, no more make-up, no more music, no more colourful clothes, no more sweet words, no more her. nothing that involved her reflection or reminded her of him.
nisha had become her own worst enemy. nisha was no longer nisha. she was running away from herself, and she was running away from others too. her little brother asked for her every day.
"look, i drew daddy earlier, we can hang it in your room!" arun exclaimed with starry eyes, holding his drawing up in the air as high as his height would allow against his sister's inexpressive face.
arun was the complete opposite of her. he had taken everything from their mother, rebecca. from the silky smooth hair to the big round questioning eyes, he was indistinguishable from her. he was less messy, more pragmatic, and very smart. drawing and dogs were his favourite things in the world. his art notebooks were filled with them and his favourite stuffed animal was a dalmatian that he took everywhere he went. he was very good at drawing for his age but for once nisha wished he hadn't used his talent.
under the adrenaline generated after the sheet of paper was shown to her, she yelled at him to get out of her room and never show her that portrait of her father again. surprised by her sister's usually gentle tone, his lower lip started to tremble and he burst into tears, running off to lock himself in his room as he hugged his stuffed animal tightly. the girl could hear all of his cries shaking through the walls of the house, but still. the former nisha would have rushed into the room without hesitation, asking him what was going on, offering to play a game with him so that his crying would subside, holding him in her arms to comfort him. the old nisha would not even have dared to raise her voice at her little brother and ask him to come out of her room. but nisha was no longer nisha. so the nisha of today had done nothing, simply blaming herself for the horrible person her father's death had made her.
her mother walked through her door a few seconds later, looking angry and frowning, to ask her what had happened. her daughter had never acted like this before, so rebecca found herself more and more surprised by her daughter's changing behaviour. she knew that she was coping with her father's death in the worst way, but that was no excuse to blame her anger and pain on others, especially when she wasn't the only one suffering from michael's absence. it was even lower than doing it to her little brother who already didn't understand much of what was going on and was now growing up without a father figure. if on top of that, his big sister started rejecting him, he was going to end up wondering if there was something wrong with him when at five years old, arun was nothing but love.
"not your business," nisha spat harshly, praying that she would leave quickly before she said something she would later regret.
her mother only huffed as she let her shoulders drop in defeat at the nastiness the girl had locked herself into. since the funeral, she had changed drastically, as if when he left, michael, her father, had taken her with him.
"you know you can talk to me nisha instead of-," rebecca didn't even have time to finish her sentence that the door in front of her was slammed in her face with a deafening noise, "instead of shutting yourself in!" she finished her sentence in a higher tone so that it would reach her daughter's ears.
but nisha didn't listen anymore, she had sunk back into the mattress, burying her head in the cushion, already wanting the day to be over. slamming the door had been deemed the most reasonable solution in her mind, or else the conversation would not have ended in a nice way.
the anger she felt in her lower abdomen constantly made her want to vomit and the nausea that kept her awake at night was a testament to that. not understanding what was happening to her, it was then fear that had come along with her boiling blood to make matters worse. she was so afraid of what she was becoming and so angry at the whole world. she was angry at her mother, her brother, jude, her friends, and everyone.
nisha was worried about her condition, and she was obviously not the only one. her instagram group of her five most loyal friends had been bombarded with messages. rose, shana, mary, lauren and lana were all waiting for a response from her. but instead of sending them even one message saying she was still alive, nisha had thought that leaving the group was a better option.
every choice she'd made lately was the wrong one, but in the end, she didn't even mind. she'd found comfort in her own wickedness. if she was suffering, why shouldn't the others? it would be too unfair for her to be the only one moping around every day, missing school for a week now.
'nisha's father's death' was surely the number one topic discussed in the corridors of her university. that's why she didn't set foot in there anymore, too weak to face the pitying looks or the condolences of every person she passed. the girl had no intention of going back, anyway, her year was ending in a fortnight and she had no exams because it was her first. no purpose seemed relevant enough to gather her strength and go there. her future seemed unimportant in the face of her father's death. just like the thousands of messages and calls jude had bombarded her with over the last five days.
the footballer had had to return to dortmund for the end of the season just after the funeral, leaving them little time to talk. since then, he had not been allowed any answers from the young woman, which he found very strange, especially at a difficult time like this. denise was the best friend of nisha's mother rebecca, and the two of them communicated a lot, if not every day. so jude had been able to learn how bad nisha was and how she was behaving. he wasn't going to lie, he was worried, very worried, but being in another country, it was difficult to deal with a situation like that, especially when the main person involved wouldn't talk to him.
nisha's thoughts were about him at the moment. she had reclined on her back, her arms and legs spread around her body. she missed jude already, but she still held a grudge against him, like a kind of jealousy buried deep inside her after seeing him so happy during his game three days before. the sight had made her blood boil. with the phone in her hands, she remembers her eyebrows furrowing at his beaming smile as he celebrated in front of the fans. the off button had quickly been pressed and the black screen had been placed on her aching chest. how could he be so happy about his team goal when his best friend was literally perishing in her room? it drove her crazy to see people blossoming, especially her best friend who was shedding tears beside her five days ago.
nisha didn't even realize that she was jealous of her best friend. the one she had known since she was a little girl and who had always been by her side in every painful stage of her life, as she had been for him. her thoughts seemed normal to her. surely he would have had the same thoughts if it was his father who had died, right?
sinking into her evil thoughts, she couldn't get rid of them. she couldn't get out of them. this darkness that was swallowing her was tough and was gradually replacing the joy of life that used to inhabit her. nisha had just hit rock bottom but she was still digging, not seeing how she could ever come back to the surface.
— notes.
sorry there's not much
jude at the moment,
but soon i promise!
