Her Encounter | Islamic Story

Chapter 12 ✓

(2 years later)

Tired? Anxious? Worried? Annoyed? No.

I'm just lost.

Seems like a lifetime ago when things were different. Soaring like a bird, I had enjoyed everything life could offer even if that was only for a month.

I, Denae Ivanlia, have seen murders, deception, you name it. Lost is something I had never experienced but I am living it now. And it's scary...scary to the point of binding me, preventing my mind and soul from moving forward.

I'm Denae Ivanlia, 22 years of age.
The world, I have no tracks of. I know no one. Life, I don't trust. People, I loathe.

After being found strayed on the classroom floor, unconscious and disheveled, I was taken to the hospital. I came back to consciousness two days later.

After that, I got visitors who had their sympathies for me but it didn't matter anymore. I knew that nobody was honestly concerned about me. But who could blame them?

I actually saw Shenili and Amanda smiling from the corner of my eyes. Maybe in some other circumstances, I might have cared, but I don't now.

The thing that did hurt somewhat was that even Adrian and Mantella didn't come after a week or two of visiting.

Probably because I had been too rude, too selfish, too egoistic before my own self was humiliated and tortured. Or probably because they were tired of making me talk. But what do I talk about? And why do I talk? Why does no one get it?

It's been two years now. No one's bothered to visit since after the first two months but like I said I don't care. Also, why would anyone want to have anything to do with someone like me who was an idiot back in the college and a cracked mess now?

Just one person surprisingly serves as my silver lining.

Harry.

It's weird to have him around. It's weirder to feel nice having him around, especially since I'd thought of him as a terrorist. It makes me embarrassed now just thinking about it.

Saturday is when he visits me.

Initially, he used to sit there for hours and hours and would never make an attempt to converse with me.

My room, which had become a graveyard, filled with a soothing silence in his presence. He stared at his shoes while I stared at the walls.

This bond is weird, I can't begin to explain it. I am thankful for him. For being sincere in his visits. For staying quiet in the beginning.

Things started getting lighter soon after between us. I was still the same tired, bored and lost girl who continued to stare at the wall and never spoke a word, but he made stark comments every time he visited. It was refreshing.

A weird fact about him was that since he started visiting, he never ever once looked at me. It was strange but simultaneously made me feel better about me, not so dirty, not so desecrated. He made me feel more secure than these big walls of my house.

Apart from Harry, the only other person who stayed around was Uncle with his motivational speeches and attempts to convince me to join the business.

Guess I will have to do that, join the business I mean. Better sooner than later. Uncle is getting old and weak and I need to take hold of things before the few thing I have left shatter.

Harry wants me to go out in the world too. Huh.

This Monday, I'll go - this Monday, yes. I'll finally face the world I have been hiding from.

I can't bring back the person I used to be. Can't bring out the aura I had. But I guess it really is time. Pascal taught me that I'm a filthy being. An oppressed being. An insect you can trot over with anything but a second thought. Femininity, as I've always held the belief, is shameful. Disgusting. I'm filthy too. Because I'm an object. A girl.

Date: I don't know
Day: I have no idea

I got up from my bed, headed to the kitchen, took a matchbox and burned my diary in the backyard. The flames enveloped my memories, thoughts, and maybe even some part of me.

I needed no help from a diary to keep my thoughts intact. I wanted to dwell in my misery and die of it. Had it not been for Harry I'd have already been dead.

...

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