Chapter one

  I stare at the people holding hands while passing, the balcony has been my quick pace to depression, even prison is freer than my current life, how can they contain happiness so freely, they are human rights.

     “ Rethabile !” Mom yelled from the kitchen what is she yelling for in particular?I stood up sluggishly walking to the kitchen, and there she was with bulgy eyes, and I prepared myself for a deafening sound, that was sure to come.

   “ The kitchen’s dirty! Why are you standing there?

    What have you been doing since morning ?” 

      All these are questions I have grown to get used to, but can't express, you really don't have a say in a n African home, it's totally impossible , and my mom wasn't any different, even in the 21st century.

      I just can't wait to be a little bit free from yelling, why can't she respect my boundaries knowing I love doing things at my own pace? And besides, those endless water droplets that I always match in the kitchen make my hair spike, I don't like it.

   Even wearing flip-flops is taboo as well, in a typical African home, but I can't hold my body from wanting. I wear my flip flop and then go ahead to do the chores I wasn't ready to do, the dirty dishes were like a map to a whole new world.

   As I slowly drift into my little world of imagination, that little world in my head where I talk to people and also laugh, just like the couples I saw earlier, that would be the best day of my life, I would share all my stories and guilty pleasure with them.

      And all my adventures I repeatedly tell myself mentally, they would be the luckiest, “ rethabile!” I hear a thunderous voice call me and I prepare myself for round two, “ why are you standing, doing nothing”? She asked i look at her then my hands, i was just beside the dirty dishes. I haven't laid a finger on it

   I thought i just did, oh i was in lost in oblivion, where my temporary happiness lays, i smirk at her and she glares in return, “I know you are a witch it's obvious, get out of my kitchen you are simply good for nothing.” 

     Well when it comes to words mom is always brutal with it, she doesn't care, and i try to tell myself that other children out there are simply facing the worse, at least mom doesn't beat me, that's a relives, because i push her to the verge of amputating my brain, just like I just did.

   “Trust me, you wouldn't survive anywhere in this world, I wonder how you would be in your husband's house” she curses the ten million times today, and I smirk in return, like I would love to get married at 13 who cares about her husband's house, no one, well at least not me.

      I go back to my room, my uniform is dirty, and i have mastered the habit of washing and wearing it as well, as I said earlier, I love doing things at my own pace. I wash it, then head to study, even when I know I am likely not to partake in the exam tomorrow I would try my best.

  If there's one thing I have learned about being financially unstable it's feeding on hope, it was more of our daily bread, and my family had become barkers of that bread, ever since dad died living mom and I siblings in the cruel world.

   He died when I was tender, maybe that is why I am not able to bond with anyone... just maybe.

  **********

   It's night time already, and I had drooled over my  book, when did i sleep, my pulsating heart shows i did not sleep well either. I had my regular dream, a hiss escaped my mouth , it was as constant as the mosquitoes auditioning for a humming contest close to my ears, they are never late always punctual.

      But this time it wasn't regular snakes and dark rooms like it used to be, this time it was more fictional than normal. I saw a dazzling creature, with gray skin, long hairs, pale legs. If I were superstitious enough I would connect these nightmares to something spiritual but I won't. Neither would I increase my enigma by sharing my problems.

        weeks passed and I was done with my exam, meaning the excruciating term was over. I couldn't wait to go back home, then access the peak of solitary. I hate school activities, the ritual is boring already. I did all those hula hoop dances. They were just mental exercises.

   But all this was covered by a face of poker face, while my arms rested on my chest. I felt my inside freeze as I felt a grip on my uniform, my soul had begun to rage within me, it always does when something unexpected happens, and I would just be about to shout when I met a couple of blue eyes.

   My heart weighed deep inside, looking around. There was a student on the same road as I was, there was someone with the weird color of eyes for dark skin. She was holding me, with veins popping in her hands, my heart began to beat faster, as my legs felt rooted to the floor.

    Is she mad?, she must be, why would she hold a random child on the road, and glare, the way she stares at me makes my heart pound, do I know her from somewhere, it feels that way, the way she looks at me, she must be familiar, I feel I have met her if not once in my little stay on earth.

   Suddenly I feel nauseous, as myriads  of emotions stormed my body, that was all i needed to know I needed to run, for my dear life, and it's better late than never, i jerk my hands from hers and i take to my heel, with my head still on my neck.