Chapter 8 • sisibhozo

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Sisibhozo § 8
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"What did i do to you?"

"After the day at the museum with N'jadaka i notice we dont talk as much...we actually havent spoke at all. He walks past me and sometimes doesnt even acknowledge me, Im no longer allowed in his room let alone his section of the castle and even the leopards i dont see anymore." I speak to Malika who is fixing her makeup in my mirror.

I stare at my own reflection as i fall into my own thoughts my mind flashing with memories of time spent with N'jadaka. The very first day when i punched him in the throat, teaching him about our history, him teaching me how to play video games, the early mornings i spent showing him wakanda, the leopards, Noir city—

"Sekai?" I hear and snap out of my gaze making eye contact with her.

"Im so Naivë, this whole time Mal, the whole damn time" i huff standing from my bed storming over to my book shelf filled with books i borrowed from the library.

"What? What are you talking about?" She squints turning around, her long braids flowing behind her as she follows my jerky movements.

"Hes been using me Mal! This whole time, ive been teaching him about the history of wakanda, how things work, vibranium, i even let him come on a tour of the mountains with me a few times...i took him to Noir city with me" i face palm feeling myself slip into a dark hole of despair.

"Sekai i... No!" Malika frowns facing me with a frown and i look at her my eyes glossy with unshed tears of frustration. "You gave him access to public information, its not like he was banned from it." She tries to calm me down.

"Sekai regardless of what has happened he is still a prince, still son of N'jobu... King T'challa still showed him mercy so...so—" she trails off and i cut her off.

"So, what? So what hes had a trauma filled life and every event is just a domino effect of trauma filled after trauma. Everyone has trauma Malika... mine just makes me extend love and kindness to people who probably dont deserve it" i huff plopping face down onto my bed half of my sentence muffled by my pillows.

3rd person

In the large floor to ceiling room across the palace the two oldest cousins are sparring. N'jadaka in dark grey shorts tshirt discarded across the room since his upper body is covered in a thin film of sweat dreads wildly flying with every rage filled movement.

His mind had been all over the place different emotions surfacing since that day in the museum with Sekai. Emotions he tried so hard to burry, emotions he wasnt able to show in his child hood because there wasnt time inbetween fending for himself and the harsh reality of the real world. for so long the only way he knew how to cope was anger, unadultered rage and his fist.

So he stood across from his bloody cousin swinging furiously with as much force as possible missing some hits which only makes that much force go into the next punch.

T'challa grunts when another hit is landed on his gut, his muscles aching for him to stop this torture. He wasnt weak by any means but his cousin heald a rage at the moment that he didnt. While he put up a good defense he didnt want to fight back but this was the most communication he was getting out of Erik.

It was very evident something happened between him and sekai, the two went from running off together like children to walking past another like the other didnt exist. But it was more then just sekai, N'jadaka glared...at everyone with more than just the usual spout of annoyance it was absolute hatred. Even thought T'challa gave him mercy he thinks Erik still holds resentment toward him, which was why he wouldnt open up and communicate, sparring was the closest they would get.

Poison  •E.killmongerDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora