Days Are Numbered

12: Origins

Avgustin is a terrible person; he makes me feel worthless, humiliates me each time we cross paths, talks down to me, and calls me names. I think if my mother sees me now, she would definitely freak out or break down. I'm very skinny, though my hair is growing out. I feel like I have lost a lot of weight. I can't appreciate anything here. We're fed like prisoners and beaten to a task. I wish I could escape, but I have stopped trying after getting caught many times, with very terrible consequences, such as burning, hanging, or worse, beating. Dhakirah says Avgustin hates me, and I can't deny the fact; he is always devouring me with his eyes and enjoys my pain. Mr. Yaroslav made a replica of himself; he needs an award. I don't know who he is, but Yaroslav would go to jail as soon as I get out of here...

"There you are, Barbie," Dhakirah popped his head behind Noah. He quickly shut his journal, only to glare at Dhakirah.

"Go away, nigga," he implied, hoping Dhakirah would just leave.

Dhakirah paused before bursting into laughter, "Is it your first time saying 'nigga'?"

Noah rolled his eyes, "Let me be; I would like to finish my business before Avgustin shows up. Maybe he would ask me to cut down the biggest tree around. I'll need to finish this."

"What are you hiding for? You're always in your shell. For someone that has a tattoo, it is hard to understand," Dhakirah plopped down beside him with an attitude.

"Pervert," Noah whispered.

Dhakirah frowned, "For seeing you dress up? Yeah, I wonder, are you straight? 'Cause Raf said you aren't." Dhakirah laid the words down.

Noah frowned, "You can tell him I said his father isn't straight, and he should mention the name Noah and observe his reaction." He rolled his eyes.

"You're very girly," Dhakirah stated.

Noah's frown deepened, "Just get out of here, would you!" He nudged Dhakirah.

"For real, you scream like a girl, you're very dramatic, you're always hiding and writing in your secret diary," Dhakirah pronounced the last words in a nasal tone.

Noah cussed at him, "It is a journal."

"Same. And then you're rude, but you don't look like you deserve this place; they're for people like Rafael," Dhakirah cast his gaze ahead as he lay on his side supported by his elbow.

"And you," Noah scoffed.

Dhakirah made eye contact with him, and he looked away, "Right, my father was mad; he caught me with cigarettes, my first time. I was just looking for an escape. The other kids said I should try it, so I did, and unlucky me, I got caught my first time. He had something against me, so he beat the daylight out of me and sent me out of his house. Thief, drug dealer, murderer," Dhakirah chuckled, "all that he called me. Then he picked me up on the street after two weeks, and he told me he doesn't want to ever see my face, 'cause if he does, then it will be my last day on earth. I believed him; he had a rifle under his bed, and he had tried shooting me before. My stepmother had claimed that I hit her across the face, so she had a busted lip, which I knew she got from her boyfriend. My father was mad; he grabbed his rifle, and I escaped through the window, but he still shot at me and missed his target."

Noah had a look of disgust on his face, "And you went back?"

Dhakirah shrugged, "I wanted to stay with my grandmother, but he dragged me out of her house by the collar all the way to his house; they needed me to run errands."

"You're dumb, Dhakirah. Why not sue him?" Noah was getting emotionally negative.

Dhakirah chuckled, "It was very legal for parents to hit their children in the state I lived in. Here," he pointed at a scar on his mid-arm, "He was drunk, hitting on me with a bat for not doing my stepmother's laundry, and I had to get away. The window was shut, and he was so mad, so I threw myself through it and landed on the ground, fracturing my ankle. The worst part of the story, he made me pay for the glass; I did three jobs and still had to keep good grades."