Change Me | CB

XX

Friday Morning, 5th of November

Amaya

          Warmth surrounded my body as I woke from my sleep. I felt much more comfortable than I usually would which made me open my eyes in confusion. It was only then, did I finally take notice of my surroundings.

          There was slow breathing against my forehead, arms wrapped tightly around my waist, a chest moving up and down underneath my head and the warmth of another body. A small gasp escaped my lips as I looked down at the tattooed hands which were keeping me in place. A blush crept up on my face as I slowly tried to move Christopher's arms off of me without waking him up.

          My attempt at being careful failed as Christopher shifted in his sleep before releasing an annoyed groan, making him sit up. I copied him, sitting up and watching him rub the sleep out of his eyes before turning to me.

          His face was blank for a few seconds before a glare took over his face. He eyed me with an almost disgusted expression before he climbed out of the bed, looking around in slight confusion.

          "Good morning Christopher. Uh, thank you for staying with me last night. I know you didn't need to but y-. . ." I stopped mid sentence at the stare he gave me.

          "I don't give a shit Amaya, fuck off." His tone was angry and it made me wonder what could've made him feel like this when he'd just woken up.

          "I just wanted to say thank you." I continued, my voice much quieter now as I tried not to make things worse and hopefully, not make Christopher's anger worse.

          "I don't need no fuckin' thank you. Bro', I'm leavin'." Christopher stormed out of my room, not giving me any time to say anything.

          "He just woke up. How is he already so angry?" I whispered to myself, frowning at the closed door of my room.

          I sighed, knowing that this'll once again be a boring day with absolutely nothing for me to do. I laid back down, deciding that I'll sleep for as long as I can instead of watch movies.

Anonymous

          The time read 6:57PM and the young woman paced around the room, holding her phone in front of her as she listened to the older woman on the line. The rest of the house was silent except for the girls foot steps and the voices of both women.

          "Child, how much longa' are ya' goin' to be livin' wit' dis' man?" The woman on the other end of the line spoke, her voice thick with a Jamaican accent.

         "I don't know mum, I really don't. I want to help him, I told you that. He's just really...hard to get through to." The young woman explained, a sigh leaving her lips as she plopped herself down on the bed.

          "Amaya, you been tryin' help dis' man for long time now. You need ta' focus on ya' self. Go back to ya' apartment, if he don' wan' ya' help den' don' help him. Dis' man not gon' let you help him so just stop. What do ya' even see in him?" Amaya's mother questioned and Amaya could practically hear the frown in her mother's voice.

          "He's kind, he's caring, he's thoughtful, I know he is. He's just hiding it and I want to know why, I want to be there for him. I feel like he's got so much built up anger and he just needs to let it out, he needs someone to talk to. I want to be that someone, mum. You don't understand because you don't see him like how I do. He's a good guy, I know he is." Amaya's words weren't enough to convince her mother otherwise.

          Part of Amaya knew that her mother was right. Christopher didn't want her help and he was most likely not going to let her help him but she still wanted to try. Christopher hadn't kicked her out of his house. She knew that Christopher was not who everyone made him out to be and for as long as she possibly could, she was going to try and prove that. Although she had all the time in the world, it seemed as if there wasn't much time left before she had to leave Christopher and continue to focus on her own life. 

          "Maybe ya' see him like he a good guy but Amaya, don' waste ya' time on someone who don' care 'bout ya'. It sound to mi' like he don' wan' ya' help. Do what ya' want child but don' waste ya whole life tryin' ta' make everyone good." Her mother explained and Amaya just hummed in response, bidding her mother goodbye and crawling into her bed where she thought over her mothers words.

          As she attempted to sleep, she wondered when Christopher was going to get back home. Little did she know, the man himself was standing outside her bedroom door, listening in on her conversation. The man didn't care that it was none of his business, nor did he care that he was invading someones privacy.

          He started to quietly walk away from Amaya's bedroom door, mixed emotions running through his mind as he quietly walked into his bedroom, heading over to the shower immediately to get all the blood and dirt off of himself.

          He thought over the conversation he'd just heard in which his mind was automatically set to agree with Amaya's mother on the situation. Except, it's as if his heart was attempting to disagree with what his brain was thinking. He was torn between two opinions. The opinion of his brain, which is what he thought was right and the opinion of his heart, which is what he thought he wanted.

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I don't know Jamaican, I am not Jamaican and I do not know much about the language, nor the accent. I really hope I have not offended any of you during this chapter. I am just writing from my personal knowledge.