Tears blurred her vision, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She didn't even know where she was going, but she kept on moving, not even for once looking back. Why would she look behind her when Reigner wasn't the thing she was running from? The demon was entirely in her head, her mind, her whole being and it was eating her alive, determined to finish her, to destroy her completely. She was suffocating, she needed air, she needed space, an opening, she needed freedom! Sheenah clutched her purse tightly, her palm sweating. She pushed through people, mumbling inaudible apologies until she found the gate, and rushed out of the place, eager to leave. She flagged down a tuktuk and got in, telling the driver the hotels address and sitting back in her seat, trying to control her breathing.
She let out a pained cry, alarming the driver, who was quick to ask, "madam, is everything alright?" He asked in his thick coastal Swahili accent, concern lacing his voice and face. The politeness in this city was beginning to become nauseous. Why was everyone so damn nice!
Breathe. Steady breaths.
She consoled herself, before nodding at the driver.
It was just sex!
You're worthless!
Can't you for once use your beauty for something productive?!
You're worthless!
It's all your fault! I will never forgive you for this!
No wonder your parents-
It was all coming back, and she didn't know what to do. Her heart was breaking again and the pain was worse than before.
"Stop!" She cried, willing the voice to disappear, the memories to go away, the pain to diminish, but it did not. She clutched her head tightly, digging her nails into her skin, trying too hard to make herself feel something more painful. More physical. Now feeling her whole body ache, experiencing a different kind of pain, Sheenah wished Jack had abused her physically. She wished the pain he had inflicted would have been a physical one, rather than emotionally destroying her, when she was already fragile.
Broken.
"Please stop." She whispered softly, slowly becoming weak. The energy to fight drained from her. That was the thing about suppressed pain, when it emerged, it came out stronger than before, as if while under suppression, it was gaining strength and energy, ready to weaken it's victim. It demanded to be felt, and there's only so long as to how long you can run.
The driver looked behind him; shocked, confused and concerned. Was she telling him to stop? Had she reached her destination? He slowed down and looked at his passenger, whose head was down, body shaking lightly. Him being him, stopped the tuktuk and turned around, determined to find out what was wrong with the lady. "madam, what's wrong?" He asked, with the accent that Sheenah had come to love. It made Swahili sound so much sweeter, and was definitely better than Sheng'. "Are you sick? Is it malaria?"
Sheenah looked up, wiped away her tears and tried smiling at the driver, but the smile came out looking like a grimace. "I'm fine, let's go." She replied in Swahili, making the man smile.
"So you're from the Capital. I knew that face wasn't ours." He joked, and she would have been glad to join in if the times and situation were different. She chuckled dryly and went back to her pity party, lowering her head once more.
***
The driver had dropped her off at the hotel, she had paid him more than the required fare and quickly rushed to their room, dropping on her bed on arrival. Jack's words echoed in her head, giving her a migraine and making her heart break. Again. She tried reasoning with herself, that it wasn't her fault. That she had done the right thing by reporting that perverted old guy, a sorry excuse for a boss, but it still didn't make sense to her.
YOU ARE READING
Stereotypes
General Fiction"Free yourself." To some she was just a pretty doctor. To others she was a young successful woman who life had been good to. To few she was a broken soul that was trying to pick up her broken pieces. There was always an idea of what Sheenah was, or...
