The Outcast's Rebirth

CHAPTER 9: Weight Of Shame

After their passionate encounter, Kyzzu found himself returning to reality with a thud.

"What... have I done..."

He immediately got up. The feeling of shame and regret washed over him as he tried to stand, the semen trickling down his legs and staining thighs.  The air was heavy with the smell of sex that Kyzzu choked.

Winston was looking at him with eyes unreadable but that was the least of his worries, he gathered his tunic that was sprawled on the dirty floor and tried to wear them, legs wobbly from the intense taboo they just did.

  Picking up his hairband, he saw the spilt medicine oil bottle on the floor and an intense shame over came him, he couldn't stay here any Longer.

  Without looking at the man seated on the floor he walked away. His body felt weak and used, and he stumbled as he tried to make his way back to the village.

But he couldn't bear the thought of facing anyone in the village, not now, not like this. So, Kyzzu ran, as if the very ground beneath his feet would swallow him whole. The forest blurred around him, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and shame. He didn't stop until he reached the nearby stream, where he fell to his knees, panting and disheveled, the man's essence still dripping and soiling his tunic.

The weight of his actions pressed down on him, a heavy stone lodged in his chest. Kyzzu had committed a grave sin, something that went against everything he had been taught. Memories of Winston's touch, the passion they had shared, flooded his mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling of disgust—at himself and at what he had allowed to happen.

With trembling hands, Kyzzu removed his already soiled clothes and tried to wash himself. He cleaned the remaining semen that was lodged inside him, washing his cloth and his now matted curly silver hair. Winston, the white man, was still probably in the place they had sex, that place was once their meeting place, where no one knew.

Tears welled up in Kyzzu's eyes, and he let them fall freely. The sound of the stream was his only companion as he cried, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. How could he face the village after this? How could he look anyone in the eye knowing what he had done? He had betrayed his people, betrayed their trust, and for what? A moment of weakness, a fleeting passion that had already begun to sour in his mind.

When the tears finally stopped flowing, Kyzzu felt hollow, as if they had drained him of everything he was. He continued to wipe his body that was stained with sweat, grime, and semen with the cool water, trying to erase any traces of their escapade, but it felt futile. The memory of Winston's kiss, the intensity of their connection, the raw feeling in between his legs, it all lingered, stubbornly refusing to fade.

He couldn't return to the village. Not now, not like this. He waited till his clothes were a little dry before putting them on and leaving there.

Kyzzu felt too unworthy, too unclean to approach anyone. So, he wandered aimlessly until he found himself by the sacred lake-a place of peace and reflection, a place he had often sought comfort in during difficult times. But now, even here, he felt like an intruder, not daring to swim inside but only look languidly.

He sat by the water's edge, staring at his reflection in the still surface. He could barely recognize the person looking back at him.

_____

Three days passed. Three long, lonely days where Kyzzu neither ate nor slept. He stayed by the lake, lost in his thoughts, the shame still gnawing at him like a persistent wound.

The world around him continued on, the village unaware of his inner turmoil. He knew he couldn't stay here forever, but the thought of returning, of facing the people he had turned his back on, filled him with dread.