Do You have siblings ? Or should I say Do You want mine ? Because I wish I never had one. He's the dear son of my shitty father who played with my mom's heart just because he was bored. I am a 17 years old French boy named Kijani Ngoy (but You can c...
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KIJANI
🎶Slipping away - LEISURE🎶
The driver started the car and we took off.
The silence buried the atmosphere. I put my headphone on and started listening to music. I did not expect him to be in the car. I looked at him quickly. He was wearing a Black sweater with gray shorts. I could see multiple rings on his fingers and a silver chain above his sweater. I turned around and looked through the window. The moon was following us. I folded my arms and closed my eyes, letting myself be lulled by the music.
I woke up when I felt that the car was no longer moving forward. I looked around and saw the legitimate son on his phone. Crap, I forgot him. Why was he there ? Our eyes met. I just ignored him.
" So You know, my dad forced me to come. ", he said, dryly, still watching his phone.
I did not have time to process what he said. The driver came to open his door. When was the last time I heard his voice ? What was our last interaction ? The driver was going to come and open mine when I just got out of the car. I looked around and I saw this gigantic house in which I had sworn never to set foot again. Lukas was already going up the stairs to the front door. A lady was waiting for him there. When he entered the house, she set her eyes on me and walked towards me accompanied by a black man in a suit. The driver took my suitcase out of the trunk. I barely laid my hand on it when the other men in a suit took it.
" Please, let Jordan take care of your luggage. Let me introduce myself. I'm Mrs.Garcia but You can call me Carmen. I'm the housekeeper of this house and-" , she started.
" What happen to the old one ? ", I asked right away.
If there is one thing that I will never forget, it is the housekeeper of this house, Mrs.Brown. She was a 40 year old black Woman that always looked after me when I stayed here. She was always smiling and she often brought her daughter so that we could play together. Her daughter's name was Rosalia but I always called her Rose. She was an African-American and Hispanic girl who liked to sing. As far as I remember, her father died when she was very young because of cancer. She had very rebellious and curly hair with which I played with a lot. She was so funny that I could have fallen in love with her If I didn't already have a crush on somebody else at that time... Yes, I am a faithful man. Rose was allowed to come and play with me only on wednesday and saturday. Mrs. Brown told me that it was thanks to Andrew that Rose could come home but I never believed her. And now where are they ?
"I am sorry, but I don't have any information about it. Were You close ? ", she asked, kindly.
Of course we were. They were the only good thing that happened to me here.
" No, not at all. ", I lied.
" I see. Please, follow me. I will show you your room. "
And I followed her, quietly. The more I climbed the stairs, the more I wanted to turn around.
" Are You alright sir ? You walk very slowly. "
I want to go home.
" Yes I am... ", I lied again.
She pushed the front door to let me enter. I stopped and looked at it. It just for a month Kijah. You can do it. I entered and she closed the door behind me with her keys. The sound of the slamming door resonated in me like a gunshot and the sound of the keys was similar to knife blows, each one more violent than the other.
" Please, this way ", she said walking in front of me.
My feet were not connected to my brain anymore. I wanted to stop, to run but I just followed her through this grand entrance whose walls displayed portraits I was not a part of. We took the stairs and continued down the many hallways that filled this house. This house disgusts me. There was nothing welcoming about it. It was cold, lifeless, drowned in countless secrets. The only thing that could warm this house was Rose's laughter. But she is not here anymore. I am on my own now.
Mrs. Garcia opened a door that I already knew.
" This is your bedroom. You can change the furniture layout as you like. Your suitcase is there. Please, make yourself at home. "
Make yourself at home huh ?
" Thank you. ", I replied politely.
" There is a phone near the bed. There is my number on it. Call me whenever You want. I will go now. Have a great night. "
" Good night. "
And she left, closing the door.
#🎶I took a big breath. You are all alone now.
I looked at my bedroom and it did not change at all. The walls were painted in white and taupe. A large television was in front of a massive bed above which there was a long mirror. A large black empty glass desk was on the side with an office chair, a bin and a huge bookshelf. Two small chests of drawers surrounded the bed. I took my suitcase and headed for the two closed doors near my bed. The first one was a wardrobe. I opened my suitcase and put my stuff in order. Then, I went for the second door that was a private bathroom. To tell you the truth, I don't give a fuck about the decor. Yes it was beautiful and then what ? Did all the pain they had done to my mother fade away when I stepped into the glass-enclosed shower ? I don't think so. Those fucking unbearable rich people.
When I finished, I put pajamas on and went straight to bed. Should I call my mom ? I think it is around 09:00 in Paris... She must be working. Let's just send her a message... Let's send a message to the guys too.
I wrapped myself under the duvet and closed my eyes, hoping that everything was just a bad dream. 🎶#
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