Wounded: Our Journey Home

Wounded- Chapter Two

Edited

Banner: muslimah_07

Published: July 6 2015, Monday 12:38 a.m

Ayah:

July 2nd

          'The wind blew in Amy's hair as she sat at her mothers grave, staring out and beyond at the life she could have had if she hadn't talked. If she hadn't crushed the only trust she had. Maybe--"

          I crumbled up the last sheet of paper I had, groaning in frustration. I don't remember writing being this hard before. An idea usually came to mind usually when I was at home, cup of milk in hand, watching re-runs of old western shows. Then again I was laying in Jafar's arms, not knowing that the happiness would end sooner than expected.

          Ever since I was a child I wanted to write. The stories my mother read me were all the same--children's books that didn't have a twist to it. Even as I was nine years old, I knew what I wanted to pursue. With my growing imagination, I kept thinking about all the ideas that would swirl in my mind.

But to be fair, all I could think about was a Muslim princess, nothing major. But when I reached about thirteen, ideas about secret agents and all got stuck in my brain. Since then it's fluctuated to a mixture of all.

          I picked up my pencil again, ready to write. Nothing.

          "How is the writing going?" Mama asked from the kitchen where she was fixing some breakfast.

          "It's not," I put my notebook down, standing up to walk into the kitchen to grab an apple.

          "Have you tried milk? When you were younger that stuff was the best remedy there was."

          I shook my head, leaning on my elbow. "Mama, is there something wrong with me?"

          She stopped whisking the eggs to frown at me, no doubt about to tell me that I'm wrong, but I know I'm not. All this time I thought that Allen was the reason why he wouldn't call, write or even ask me to come to visit him in California. What if I'm the reason?

          The reason why he chose to please absolute strangers other than his family. Now it's all starting to click. Why he's been distant. I thought he changed, but the sad truth is that I think he's trying to forget about me. About his old life so that he can focus on his future. A future that I doubt I am apart of.

          No, I have to stop thinking the worst. I know him. I know Jafar wouldn't purposely abandon his family for money and fame. That's not him, no.

          I stood up from my position at the table and made my way to my room. I need to get out of here. I need some air before I suffocate in my own self consciousness.

-*-

          Usually when someone wants to forget the cause of their worries, they go and have fun to forget about everything in general--they make the thoughts disappear. It hurts too much to think about, so they make their mind blank. They want to be alone.

But me, I am apparently not as normal as I thought. Because I did none of the above. Here, now, I'm sitting under a tree, overlooking the Riverside Lake--our Lake, wondering how I ended up coming here alone.

          This was our spot.

Jafar and I originally found it when we went for a stroll a couple days after our wedding. It's a beautiful Lake with a small bridge where you could jump into the water. And yes, we did jump in when no one was there. It just felt right. The sun beaming down on us, the breeze perfectly blew through hot air.