Thursday July 22nd
She burst into her apartment. Throwing her bags to the floor she went to the cabinet and selected the bottle with the highest alcohol volume. Not bothering with a glass she stormed into her bedroom, tears streaming down her face. She stripped off and climbed into her sheets, pulling them around her until she felt safe. Taking a swig from the bottle she closed her eyes, her mouth and throat burned but she took another. She had to forget. It worked for her mother; it should work for her. Still zaidi tears streamed down her cheeks. Her tears turned to cries and then to sobs. She couldn't bring herself to forget. She couldn't bring the picha out of her mind. The yelling and screaming that permeated the room. Items being flung to the walls in rage. The police being called in kwa neighbours, zaidi than once.
She could remember the nice officer one siku who had taken her to the squad room and aliyopewa her chakula and water. She had sat and listened to her problems; she comforted her and reassured her. She did what mothers were supposed to do. Instead her mother spent her time at work, and when she did come home, she wasn't her mother. She had found spirits hidden in drawers, the laundry hamper, and the jikoni cupboard. She knew alcohol had taken away the woman she loved and replaced her with someone foreign.
She took another swing from the bottle. She could feel herself numbing, but still the pain remained. When the bottle was empty she smashed it across the room, then picked up anything within reach and hurled it at the ukuta too. She yelled, but no-one was there to hear. Screaming in anger and hurt, she slowly demolished her bedroom, before moving out to the jikoni to get another bottle of alcohol. When she reached the cabinet she grabbed every bottle she had and drunk them as fast as she could. She could feel the room start to spin, she tried in vain to make it back to her bedroom, but her legs faltered and she tumbled onto the floor. She felt her head hit the coffee table, the warm blood slowly trickling down her scalp onto the floor. She was barely conscious as she closed her eyes, still the pain did not relinquish. After what seemed like an eternity of agony, her body finally slipped into unconsciousness.
She burst into her apartment. Throwing her bags to the floor she went to the cabinet and selected the bottle with the highest alcohol volume. Not bothering with a glass she stormed into her bedroom, tears streaming down her face. She stripped off and climbed into her sheets, pulling them around her until she felt safe. Taking a swig from the bottle she closed her eyes, her mouth and throat burned but she took another. She had to forget. It worked for her mother; it should work for her. Still zaidi tears streamed down her cheeks. Her tears turned to cries and then to sobs. She couldn't bring herself to forget. She couldn't bring the picha out of her mind. The yelling and screaming that permeated the room. Items being flung to the walls in rage. The police being called in kwa neighbours, zaidi than once.
She could remember the nice officer one siku who had taken her to the squad room and aliyopewa her chakula and water. She had sat and listened to her problems; she comforted her and reassured her. She did what mothers were supposed to do. Instead her mother spent her time at work, and when she did come home, she wasn't her mother. She had found spirits hidden in drawers, the laundry hamper, and the jikoni cupboard. She knew alcohol had taken away the woman she loved and replaced her with someone foreign.
She took another swing from the bottle. She could feel herself numbing, but still the pain remained. When the bottle was empty she smashed it across the room, then picked up anything within reach and hurled it at the ukuta too. She yelled, but no-one was there to hear. Screaming in anger and hurt, she slowly demolished her bedroom, before moving out to the jikoni to get another bottle of alcohol. When she reached the cabinet she grabbed every bottle she had and drunk them as fast as she could. She could feel the room start to spin, she tried in vain to make it back to her bedroom, but her legs faltered and she tumbled onto the floor. She felt her head hit the coffee table, the warm blood slowly trickling down her scalp onto the floor. She was barely conscious as she closed her eyes, still the pain did not relinquish. After what seemed like an eternity of agony, her body finally slipped into unconsciousness.