I wish I didn't have to remember

Latifa’s pov

“Don’t tell me that, mum! I sent you money last week ago...well that's it, you call me when you need money....it never gets me by surprise anymore” 

just when I thought I was having a good time with my dirty reflections about the last affair with Alastair. I saw myself weeping back to my history, only if I could stay a week without being a sadist or, sad. If only I was loved the way my mother loved my money, I wouldn’t mind giving her everything.

I swiped my fingers beneath my nose to clean up the nasal mucus that was running down to my lips with some piece of cloth. My eyes were heavy still, I have been crying them out for a while now. But the call was the trigger. it's already getting me off mood and so pissed, making me want to cry more and more.

I sob behind the call till I burst into tears, I’m not crying because she demanded for some money, I weep because in all they have done to me in the past, I still can't find a place in my heart to turn her down or punish them due to some facts known to me, I just need sincere courage for that. 

it's just another needle that pierces my heart and I can't escape it.

My stepmother, Mrs. Houston might have it all wrong that I was little when they had turned loose their dirty urges on me, but what about the scars? It remains my daily reminder. it's my self-secret I have been dealing with even at my present age, but I keep playing doom the whole time. I’m just a product of circumstances.

 I wish I could speak out, fight back, or more less turn deaf ears to my stepmother but because she's the family I've left even when she doesn't care about me, I care about her to some extent. 

Mrs. Houston only knows what I tell her but maybe that’s because she’s, my stepmom. she has no one aside from me and basically, she's not taking care of anyone but she spends the most buying expensive clothes and shoes and designer bags. 

ever since Dad and Mom died in a distant country, she assumes I work in a great organization that pays me wholesomely. She doesn't care. I have been away for a year and each time I gather the courage to reach home I get demoralized, 

I miss Mum so much; I see myself fighting alone in this world full of human monsters. No one to comfort me, I am always in my shell.

My phone continued buzzing and when I checked it was till my stepmom called, I picked it up and declined, I opened my bank app and loaded a transfer of the whole money I have worked for recently and sent it to her, switched off my phone, locked the door, and slammed myself on the bed as I wept. This is not the best time to talk with anyone

I kicked off the phone as I couldn't stand any more calls, it fell and was scattered into parts. I sighed.

Standing up as I walked to the reflector that was hung on the wall, I stared at myself for some seconds, wiping off the tear beneath my sac bag as I mumbled 

“I'm a strong person. I'm strong.” but that's a lie.

I looked and strolled in the direction where the phone was thrown, picked it up, and brushed my palm across it, blowing away any accumulated particles and mending it. I move around the room, hovering around a shelf situated in the room, looking for what I couldn't see. A distraction.

“Hmm,” I gasped in curiosity as my toes were raised slightly above the tile, trying to see the surface of the shelf. I inherited my mom's short height and looks. 

My stomach twisted. On recapping his height. He's quite tall and seductively sexy at some vital points 

I strolled back to the bedroom still moody and sad, I threw myself on the bed as my face embraced the pillow 

Footage came in clicking the flour, it was Alastair who just bagged in looking so pale but yet angry, his anger could make me lose my sanity but I couldn't react 

“Miss, your phone was off throughout the day... rule number whatever you may call it... I need your phone always on if you must stay, I need to be connected and be able to reach you”

 Alastair lashed out on me in the bed where I had laid for hours without eating but shedding my rough soul away, I raised my bowed head without thinking if I was doing too much, I took a short breath as I began describing my heart in anger, bit by bit.

“WTF! Hello? what's this trying to look like? you trying to live my life which will be the last thing I expect from a fellow whore like me, pretending to be a saint” 

I angrily replied to him, pointing fingers and making gestures like one about to purchase a hit 

“What?” he inquires 

“Oh yes, you heard me right! Mr. Saint” I burst out again at him without being considerate.

 Alastair looked at me in fury and gave me that redden reply I had expected with his eyes browsing through mine like a wolf ready to devour me 

“Listen, you have no right to talk to me like that! I'm paying you whore!”

“Ooh shit, I have heard that so many times. To hell with that right now, I don't care anymore. What’s with you and being bossy sir?”

“You are arrogant b*tch” he noted as he made a cold fist with his hand and grinded his teeth in fury but then switched back. I could see the look.

 “Ok fine, do your wish,” he said and left the room and slammed the door like an angry bird on coat

“Oh shit!” I gasped

I fucked up this time…

But I cried bitterly, as I lap myself up with the bed blanket. I have tried not to dwell in my thoughts but it keeps hunting me.

I made up my mind to leave earlier but, on second thought, I was pinned down. Aside from my main savings I have already sent the whole money I had gathered for the past few days to my stepmom, who doesn't give a damn about me if I should leave. It is going to be tough on me.

It was getting late and I still couldn't wrap up my mind on a decision. I shortly made up my mind to pack and leave as I gathered the cheap things I had come with, leaving behind the Dodge, Versace, Gucci, and expensive wear he had provided recently 

Should I have asked him for some money?

My chest rose and fell with ragged breath.

Just like giving me sugar and taking it back, but my pride and honesty wouldn't let me stay back. I know I have passed through lots of drama when pleasing one person or another but I’m emotionally fighting for peace within and couldn’t stand any more drama.

But never did my psyche stop telling me that ‘I was doing too much’

I took my little bag and walked down the stairs making my way out. I met him on a noble level with a grand size piano with a short stool, he was fixing his fingers on the key. 

I stood for a while peeping without wanting to be noticed.

A few minutes later he played a warm song 

But I left anyway.  I left without saying anything. I left with pain.