Scarred For Life

Chapter 4

*
Amina stepped into the room silently, pausing when she saw Afrah blinking at the ceiling. The latter briefly glanced at her before she resumed her pointless stare.

"How are you feeling?" Amina asked, moving towards her.

"Better," she replied simply.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded in reply.

"Afrah," Amina said softly as she stood beside her, staring down at her sister's face, wet with tears.

"I'm fine," she said unconvincingly. "Or at least I will be."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"No," Afrah replied.

"A problem shared is a problem half-solved," Amina said. "Why don't you just tell me what this is all about? I do not want to come into the house one more time and see my sister slumped on the floor while everyone cries over her like she's dead or something."

Slowly, Afrah turned to look at her, her eyes bloodshot and her lips slightly parted. "Amina," she said quietly, "if I wanted to talk about it, then surely I would have come to you sometime in the past eleven years. I don't want to talk to anyone."

"Why not?" she asked, sitting on the bed. "Why won't you talk about it with me at least? Would it kill you to share your problems with your own sister?"

"You don't understand," she shook her head. "None of you do."

"Then help us to understand, Afrah," she said. "Believe me when I say that no one in this world cares about you more than we do. Family comes first, Afrah; they always do. If you won't speak to us about it, then who are you going to speak to?"

Afrah shook her head as a fresh wave of tears returned. She placed her palms over her face to shield herself from Amina's piercing gaze. The latter took her hands gently, blinking away the tears in her own eyes.

"Damn you, Afrah," she said, staring at the ceiling. "You're not going to ruin my makeup today."

That made her laugh, in spite of herself.

Amina simply held her hands, watching as the tears slowed, and finally ceased. Her heart broke at the sight of her sister so broken and defeated, knowing that there was nothing she could do about it.

You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped.

"You know you look really ugly when you cry, right?" she said as a slow smile spread across her face.

"I was hoping to look like you," Afrah smiled back. Amina pulled her hands sharply away from hers, glaring at her. "Sometimes," she said, "I wonder whether you aren't adopted."

"You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if that was the case. You know you love me," she said, sitting up on the bed. Amina continued to glare at her, but she didn't deny it.

"Are you coming downstairs?" she asked after a few seconds of silence. "Aunt Safiya should be here by now."

"I don't think I will," Afrah shook her head. "I'm comfortable right here."

"Sure?"

"Sure sure," she nodded.

"Well, if you need anything, handle it yourself because I am not going to help you with anything," she said as she stood up and walked over towards the mirror. "Now I have to redo my makeup all over again because of you," she said exasperatedly.

"Are you trying to look fancy for your sweet aunt?" Afrah asked with a smirk.

"Ew!" Amina snorted. "I'm a hundred percent sure she's going to complain about the way I've dressed, or the way I greet her, or something else which she's probably cooking up in her old brain. But all this glam isn't for her. Ibrahim is coming in a few hours, and I need to look good for my fiancé."