NASIEKU: MAFIA ROMANCE

4: Broken Promises

WARNING!!! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SELF-HARM CONTENT THAT SOME PEOPLE MAY FIND OFFENSIVE.

Songs for this chapter are:

Jealous by Labrinth

It Will Rain by Bruno Mars

The Heart Wants What It Wants by Selena Gomez

....

Nasieku

Strange, isn't it?
You know yourself better than anyone, yet you crumble at the words of someone who has not even lived a second of your life. . . I thought as I recalled how I have had to endure these past two years as Robin's parents constantly blamed me for his mysterious disappearance every chance they got. He was their only child. Their only heir. His family was among the most affluent in the city.

Robin was my first kiss, my first love, my first heartbreak . . . He was probably my first everything. I loved him with every part of me. There were no reservations, I gave him all. I was grief-stricken when he left. Hence nothing has ever been the same.

My father had persuaded me to seek psychological help when he realized grief was taking over me. I had reluctantly obliged to see a psychologist. I was hurting and did not want to hurt those around me in return.

I loved and respected my father enormously. He had selflessly raised my sister laret and me all by himself. Seneiya, my lovely mother, had died hours later after giving birth to laret. I was four years old then. I remembered how hurtful it was seeing my father cry his heart out for the first time when the doctor broke the dreadful news to him. I knew he still moaned our mother's death even so he had worked tirelessly to give us a good life.

I paid several visits to the psychologist but it bore no fruits. I was convinced I was too broken to be healed. If not Robin nothing could fill the empty void in my heart.

Robin left with a piece of my heart.

Birds were chirping as I laid on the bed feeling miserable.

I reminisced my moments with Robin, something I did all the time. Forgetting your first love was approximately inconceivable.

I started panting, my heart thumped so rapidly and the pain in my chest was outrageous. I ran to the shower, my mouth felt dry as tears burned down my cheeks.

I stepped into the shower and the cold water pierced through my skin making me shiver. I slowly slid down the floor and broke down into sobs. It was like someone had broken pieces of glasses and was thrusting them forcefully in my heart and taking them out vigorously.

I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I peek down and straightened my palm, I was bleeding. The realization hit me, I clenched on the razor blade in my hand rather too tightly.

I drew my knees up and parted my thighs. I swiftly dragged the blade up to the inner silk part of my left thigh and sliced the soft skin open.

Ouch!.. I felt the sharp familiar pain as blood oozed. I shifted the blade into my left hand and did the same to my right thigh.

This had evolved as my shower routine.

Strangely whenever I saw blood oozing from my thighs it gave me a certain satisfaction. The pain almost felt good, it was addicting. It made me disconnect from my emotional pain. Physical pain was much better or so I thought.

I could not move, my body felt numb. I remained on the shower floor as the cold water coursed into my skin. Tears and water were blinding my vision but I was lost in my thoughts.

Memories Robin and I made flooded my mind. I remembered the promises he had assuringly made me when we sat at that wooden bridge.

I'll never leave you, my love. We will be together always and forever my love. I will marry you at the biggest wedding this city has ever witnessed and for our honeymoon, I will take you to that island you frequently mention in Jamaica. We will have many beautiful babies and my lovee, I want us to relocate from the city and live in the outskirts and own an orchard.

My chest tightened. I realized the difference between memories and promises. We break promises but memories break us.

My heart hurt.

I laid on the floor, my body curled into a ball as I began sobbing incoherently. Every single day was torture. How was I supposed to go on?

Sadly, the blade was my companion now.

I don't know how long I laid on the floor. I picked myself up brushed my teeth fast and took a quick shower. Once I was done, I dried myself hastily then blow-dried my hair and neatly secured it at the nape. I put on mascara and a little powder to try and cover up my swollen eyes. I wore a red top which had white races at the hem paired with my tight black jeans. I finished my look with a pat of lipgloss on my lips. I collected my purse and phone and left my room.

"Good morning dad, you're up early." I greeted my father as I made my way to the living room.

"Good morning sweetheart. I'm not early you're late. Have you checked the time yet?" He queried appearing confused. He eyed me closely as he put the newspaper he was reading down.

"I can tell you've been crying again, sweetheart." He added, his eyes full of qualm and empathy.

I merely nodded.

He signalled for me to go sit beside him, I compelled.

"I know you miss your mother every day and you were devastated when Robin left. Everything happens for a reason sweetheart, I want you to be happy despite all that." Dad comforted.

"How can I be a happy dad? I've lost everything." I alleged.

He moved closer and held his hand in mine.

"Listen, sweetheart, life is not pain versus happiness. One does not replace the other. They exist together. Happiness doesn't arrive as a replacement. It arrives to assist you in carrying the weight off the pain." He pointed out his voice so soft.

"To be happy, I need answers dad. I just want to know where he is and why he left." I desperately confessed, shutting my eyes tightly to deter myself from crying.

"Well, how do you intend to do that?" He quizzed, distress evident in his voice.

"I'm not sure yet," I admitted.

"You're still young, beautiful and ambitious, it would be a privilege for any man to have you," he encouraged trying to cheer me up.

"I'm sorry dad. I don't just need any man, I want Robin," I let out calmly.

Micheal. His name popped up on my mind. I had made an effort not to think about him and the intimate moment we had at the bridge. I had made a personal decision not to see him again.

I didn't like where this discussion was going with my dad, I needed to relinquish.

"I have to go, dad, have a great day, " I uttered getting up from the chair.

"Sure, have a great day and take care of yourself, sweetheart," He glimmered.

"Thank you, dad. I will."

"You're a painter Nasieku don't bestow your painting brush in someone else's hand," dad called out when I reached the door, he reminded me that every day.

I nodded in approval.

I stepped out of the house. It was just another normal day, as long as you ignore the fact that it wasn't.

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Self-harm is substantial and sensitive! If you have gone through it or are going through it and need someone to talk to, feel free to PM me❤❤