Broken

Chapter 5: Distress

Fatima's car pulled into the driveway of her luxurious home, and she didn't waste a moment. As soon as the vehicle came to a halt, she threw the door open and stepped out, leaving her shoes behind. The sound of her bare feet against the cool marble floor echoed through the grand entrance hall as she hurried inside. Her heart raced, a mix of worry and frustration, as she made her way up the sweeping staircase.

She reached the second floor and quickly navigated the familiar hallways, her pace quickening as she approached Jada's room. The muffled sounds of distress grew louder, and Fatima's chest tightened with anxiety. Without hesitation, she pushed open the door, taking in the chaotic scene before her.

Jada was curled up on the bed, her knees drawn to her chest and her face buried in her hands. She rocked back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably. The room was dimly lit, and a strong smell of weed lingered in the air, a testament to Jada's recent attempt to escape reality.

Fatima's presence was immediately felt. The room was now silent except for Jada's anguished sobs.

Fatima's expression was grave. She moved closer to the bed, her eyes fixed on Jada. Fatima turned her full attention to her sister. She gently placed a hand on Jada's shoulder. "Jada," she called softly, trying to reach her through the haze of panic.

Jada flinched at the touch but slowly lifted her tear-streaked face to meet her sister's concerned gaze. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her breath came in ragged gasps. "I can't... I can't stop seeing it or feeling it," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Fatima's heart ached at the sight of Jada's torment. She knelt down beside the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Jada's face. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, her voice soothing. "You're safe. I'm here now."

Jada shook her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I can't get it out of my head," she choked out. "I see it every time I close my eyes."

Fatima glanced at the door, ensuring they were alone, before speaking. "We can't change the past," she said, her voice resolute. "But we can decide how we deal with it. You're stronger than this, Jada. I know you are."

Jada let out a shaky breath, her sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles. Fatima reached up and wiped away her tears with a gentle touch. "You've got to fight, okay? For Mom, for yourself... and for me."

A small, hesitant nod from Jada was the only response. Fatima gave her a reassuring smile. "That's my girl," she said softly.

She stood up and walked over to the window, opening it to let in some fresh air. The cool breeze filled the room, dispelling the heavy atmosphere. Fatima glanced back at Jada, who was slowly sitting up, looking exhausted but more composed.

"Take a shower," Fatima suggested, her tone lighter. "And get rid of those damn blunts. You know I don't want that stuff in my house."

Jada managed a small, weary smile. "You're so bossy," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Fatima chuckled, a hint of relief in her voice. "Well, someone has to be," she teased. She walked back to the bed and leaned down to kiss Jada's forehead. "I'll be in my bedroom if you need me."

As she made her way to the door, Jada called after her, "Tima?"

Fatima paused, turning back to her sister. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," Jada said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Fatima's expression softened. "Always, Jay," she replied, her voice warm. "Always."

With that, she stepped out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the evening's events settle on her shoulders. But for now, knowing that Jada was safe and beginning to calm down was enough, although her mind was still heavy with the pain of her sister's suffering.