HER GONE DAYS

chapter six ❤️

It was a chilly morning. I sat in my dark, cozy room, staring at the blank ceiling. The darkness was so complete that I couldn’t even see my own hands. As I reflected on my past, my heart ached with the weight of old wounds, though none felt as raw as the pain I carried now.

The days when Amina would wake up seemed like distant echoes from a life I could barely remember. I wanted to move on, but it felt like an act of betrayal to the memory of my best friend, who was no longer with us.

I found myself paralyzed by the notion that finding a new friend would somehow dishonor Amina's memory. The thought of stepping outside felt like embarking on a journey to London, expecting to receive a call with news of yet another death. It was absurd, but it felt real to me. People might label me as crazy, but Ahmad's comforting words still lingered in my mind, offering a bittersweet solace. I felt as though I had betrayed my mother's side of the family, a burden I carried alone, weighed down by the past.

In search of solace, I went to my cupboard and retrieved a pen. Writing poetry was my only escape from the suffocating reality, my words a refuge from the judgement that I feared would always await me.

---

Just like the days I was carried away, 
In the tempestuous grip of anguish, where shadows play, 
The woman stood steadfast, amidst the torrents of despair, 
A beacon of fortitude, unfaltering in her care.

Through the corridors of suffering, where echoes wail, 
She weathered the relentless storms, her spirit frail, 
Yet with resolute heart, she faced each dawning light, 
A sentinel in the darkness, a guardian of the night.

Her presence was a sanctuary, a bastion of the past, 
A reservoir of memories, where moments are cast. 
In the labyrinth of sorrow, where time weaves its seam, 
She remained a silent witness, to the fragments of a dream.

Beneath the veil of grief, where solace seems aloof, 
She bore the weight of yesterdays, a testament of truth. 
For in every tear that fell, in every whisper of the breeze, 
She found the echoes of a friendship, etched in timeless seas.

As I traverse these empty realms, with nostalgia’s mournful gaze, 
I carry forth the burden of those bygone, wistful days. 
Yet in the depths of sorrow, where shadows often blend, 
The woman remains my constant, my companion to the end.

---

The quiet of my room was suddenly shattered by the loud, obnoxious laughter of my cousins and their children. Jannanana’s spoiled brats and Sani's unruly offspring seemed to take delight in tormenting me. They were relentless, their taunts and sneers slicing through the silence like knives.

“Why don’t you come out of your dark hole, Najma?” they would jeer. “Afraid of the real world, are we?”

The barbs were relentless, and though I tried to ignore them, their presence gnawed at my fragile composure. They would ridicule my grief, mock my isolation, and belittle my attempts to find solace in poetry. Each insult seemed to pull me further into the abyss of self-loathing and despair.

One afternoon, their taunts grew more invasive. They banged on my door, demanding I emerge. I could hear their snickering through the thin walls, and their voices were filled with a cruel delight.

“Come out, Najma! We’re bored and you’re ruining our fun!” one of them shouted.

The pressure of their voices, the constant belittling, and the relentless shoving became too much. My breaths came in shallow, ragged bursts, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. The anxiety surged through me like a tidal wave, and I felt a suffocating darkness closing in around me. My vision blurred, my legs trembled uncontrollably, and the room spun as if it were caught in a storm.

With a final, panicked gasp, I collapsed. I barely registered the floor coming up to meet me before everything went black.

When I came to, I was lying on my bed, surrounded by the concerned faces of my guardians. The room was silent now, a stark contrast to the chaos I had just experienced. They were scolding the children, their voices sharp and accusatory.

“Is this how you treat your cousin?” my guardian's voice was stern. “You’ve driven her to a panic attack! You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

The spoiled cousins looked on, their faces a mixture of shame and barely concealed hatred. Their parents had punished them, but instead of feeling remorse, they seemed to harbor a deep resentment towards me. Their whispers were filled with venom as they swore to avenge what they saw as a personal betrayal.

“You think this is over?” one of them sneered. “We’ll make sure you pay for what you’ve done to us. This isn’t the last you’ll hear of this.”

The weight of their threats hung heavily in the air, and I could feel the tension in the room. The once-safe haven of my room now felt like a prison, a place where I was neither welcomed nor protected. The very people who should have been my support had become my tormentors, and the isolation I sought had turned into a nightmare of its own making.

As the days passed, their animosity towards me only grew, and the fear of their retribution haunted my every waking moment. The sense of betrayal and isolation deepened, and the sanctuary I had hoped for remained elusive. The shadows of the past and the cruelty of the present intertwined, leaving me in a state of perpetual anguish.

Pls be commenting it would mean alot and I would get to know ur point of views based on the text.

Written with so much wahala and love by najma who's so tired and would love to have some comments.