You're probably wondering why I'm putting so much poetry in this lately, and I'm going to be straight forward. Portraying Dalileh's guilt and her mistakes where she wasn't the good sister or friend or daughter can only be shown through twisting the words. To show that she is human but she is also filled with faults. That's all it is. I hope you can understand.
Also, there's an ulterior message attached to this chapter: it's okay to seek out help. It's okay to ask for help. Get help please.
We're reaching the 75% mark of the book, which is really cool. I hope I can finish this before it's first anniversary in December.
songs: all i wanna say by lontalius & it's oh so quiet by bjork
word count:1,100
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YOU WERE THE little chimes in the air that my ears would love to listen to. but now you're gone; more spirit than soul more of a nightmare can you go?
I wanted to see the angelic rays from the sun Shining upon your ebony hair And the pulchritudinous giggles that would always leave your mouth when I returned home.
I'm sorry for never being there, for not watching you grow like a hawk I should've been perched on a couch right behind you instead of on a boy's useless lap with a needle pricking my skin.
I pulled and tugged on everyone's soul in hopes they would listen, Instead I drenched and stained them but you were the only true victim.
It is a new morning and her being suffocated within the confines of her room has finally come to an end. At the current moment she stands in the chilling air in rags and a woollen coat while her mother stares her down.
"You could've put more effort" she says.
Dalileh instantly replies with the intention of being aggressive; instead it comes across as vulnerable, "It took all my effort to do this." The pair descend into silence as Dalileh climbs into her mother's Audi and buckles her seatbelt swiftly. She closes her eyes and lays back into the chair to brace herself for the trauma which is threatening to wash over her already. Inhale. The girl paces her breathing while her mother pulls out of the driveway; she can feel how she keeps an eye on her, like a hawk. Exhale. When they chose the centre she knows they chose the nearest one but her heart is still palpating thunderously.
Inhale. But she's regaining her control over her body in that very moment. Exhale. And she squints her eyes to see the world moving. All of a sudden the dizziness rises to her head, there are thorns pricking her skin and she glues her eyes shut. She whispers, "pull over," and she feels the car come to a stop. A hand touches her arm softly but she's too focused on unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door. When she does she launches herself out and sits on the kerb shaking; her heart is lurching. I can't breathe. Her mom's next to her, she can sense it but without a second warning vomit rises in her mouth and then it's on the kerb.
The stench fills her nose and is enough to cause her more unease; there are tears coming down from her closed eyes. "Mom I can't do this anymore. I'm hurting so much Mom. Please make it stop. Please. Please." she begins and reaches for her Mom , "it's ...al-all m-my fault Mom."
Her Mom's embrace envelops her and there's a choke in her voice as she speaks, "Don't you dare say that. I love you but you need to stop drowning yourself in your pain, you're torturing yourself sweetheart. And the sooner you stop, the sooner your body will begin to follow. You have to break out of constantly giving into what you've accustomed yourself to. We can walk the rest of the way as long as you put pants on, the cold must've gotten you even more nauseous. Come on, I'm not going to work today. I'm here for you. Only you. We're in this together and I Love You. Focus on right now." But she speaks firmly, as if it's facts and Dalileh can only tiredly nod as she feels a tissue upon her mouth.
First disappears the vomit, then the drying tears upon her face; her body and mind are tired. So she asks hoarsely with her eyes still closed, "Actually can we go by car? I'm really sleepy."
Her mother responds, "Okay but you still gotta slip on some pants." She aids Dalileh into the car after helping her into a pair of sweatpants. Dalileh slips in to a semi-sleeping stance as soon as she buckles her seatbelt and she can hear the occasional sound of an indicator. It causes little flutters of the night of the accident to bubble within her mind until its sound is drowned out by melodies. She remembers the song from her childhood and the echoes of Bjork's voice within the car slightly relieve the heaviness within her heart as she begins to hums to it. There's an ever so tiny jolt indicating that the car's come to a stop but the music continues playing the sounds of trumpets and nineties nostalgia.
"We're here. Do you want me to come inside with you?" her mother asks.
Dalileh opens her eyes and responds quietly, "Just to the waiting room? Please?"
Her mom displays a small and yet sweet smile promptly nodding. The car turns off completely, the silence is daunting as the nervousness of what she's about to do settles in. She wonders continuously, Do I deserve to get help? Am I really going to do this? Is this the right decision?
She holds onto her mom's arm when she comes around and helps her out of the car; she feels like a kid. Every fibre within her has succumbed to her vulnerabilities, she is truly weak and she accepts that. But the weak are not truly weak; listening closely their hearts are strongly beating and there is a will to live despite being weakened by external and internal forces. Her mother leads her into the building, through to reception, the decor exudes comfort and the walls are covered in warmth. Two women are at the reception desk; one stands while the other types away at her computer until she notices Dalileh and her mother's presence. They greet them with a smile and ask for her name. Dalileh looks at the bubbly woman and the therapist before she responds, "Dalileh Namdar."
"Okay, got it. Nice to meet you Dalileh, I'm Denise. I'll leave introductions between the both of you for comfort," the receptionist says.
Dalileh's mom looks at her and embraces her lovingly, "I love you. Please try, I just want you to be happy okay. I'll be back in an hour okay?"
Dalileh nods and watches her mom leave. She looks back at the therapist who introduces herself calmly, "Hi Dalileh, my name's Joelle Monroe. You can call me Doctor, Doc, Joelle, whatever you'd like okay? How about we go into my room?"
Dalileh listens receptively and replies simply, "Yeah that sounds okay... Joelle."
And they head into the room side by side, the resonance of chimes within her mind signalling an opening to a journey where she'll no longer have to say, Omar please listen, just please let go, I'm suffocating.
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