Painting Life

N i n e.

I really enjoyed writing this chappie, woot! xD And I am only 60 words away from 12K. *dies* I didn't think I could do it! Please forgive spelling/grammar mistakes. I am too lazy to go through the spelling check. It's 3:13 AM here. I need to get some sleeeeep. But I wanna write. But I wanna read too. So I am gonna favour the reading side since I already wrote. See you guys tomorrow when I am up to 13K, Insh Allah :) Anyways, feedback, guys? You don't think this chapter is too abrupt, do you? Thanks!

~Rida <3

<< We wanted to take a short cut to a happy life / But the world is cruel and you need to struggle to survive >> 

Nine | Paint Your Life.

H a r i s: 

It was funny how my eleventh birthday came up so quick. The days that passed were a blur in my mind, just a small flash of the camera. 

When I woke up the next morning, the sun blazed in to my eyes and I was greeted by an outrageously loud Happy Birthday, Haris. I blinked a little before smiling at Aunty Tahira, "Thank you. But at least wait till I am fully awake." 

She laughed, "What would be the fun in that? Anyways, do you want to invite your friends over?" 

I thought about all the friends I'd made and nodded. They had asked me if I was holding a party at my house or something like that. My answer had been vague since I was not so sure if Uncle Suleiman and Daniya would really allow it. 

"Does Uncle Suleiman mind?" I asked, dismissing Daniya's disapproval. She could whine about it the whole day, for all I cared. 

Aunty Tahira shook her head, "Alhamdullillah! He doesn't. Isn't that so cool? Go call all your friends and ask them to come over by four thirty." 

I got up, eager to start the day. I had never held a birthday party before. No one had even wished me before. 

Well that's a lie. A woman had wished me before, but only because I kept tugging at her shirt until she got irritated and asked me what I wanted. Even more annoyed by my answer, she had let out a sigh, wished me and dropped a penny in my hand. 

I feasted on the cheapest cupcake I could find in the cheapest bakery that night. But it was okay because I was still giddy about the fact that I did get one, in the worse times of all. 

Those times weren't really good. I still had nightmares about men abducting me and using me in some way to kill others. Not a very pleasant thought for a te- sorry, eleven year old but it had been stuck in my mind like a tattoo, since a man smirked at me and told me all about it. 

"Do you want to know something, dear child?" He had slurred. His breathe reeked of alchohol and I had to step back, stumbling over my own feet, because I was sure I'd puke just by the smell of it. 

"No," I had replied. My legs were shaking by that time. I was scared because the man was getting closer and closer and I didn't want him to. 

The man hadn't seemed to really get the meaning of "no" and continued on anyway, "Do you know that when little kids like you roam around in the streets, men come to kidnap them? They make the kids kill other people for them, after that! Best way to use kids, I swear!" 

My reaction was honest and raw. My mouth was agape. And my legs had started trembling in fear. But I was rescued by some plastic barbie doll who started kissing the man right in front of me. I could tell she was drunk too. I ran, then, but I dreamed about that night every single time. 

"This is the best cake ever!" Omar shouted loudly over our guffaws. Remy was currently telling an animated tale about how he tore his pants when he was dared to propose a girl.