Traffic Lights {22}

A dedication to the first commenter, a writer who is so talented and should continue writing N (we'd love to read more from you). Happy belated birthday The chic and cheap! Enjoy xo

Opening up a sensitive topic is one of the most difficult aspects in live, you can hide it, bury it which takes some individual effort. But trying to overcome it and write it down isn’t. A disturbing trauma was a phase of my life back then. You cannot simply imagine how hard it is to be the only survival in the family and then discovering the remains of your stepfamily elsewhere.

For as long as I’ve lived, I always thought I was a bad person and I was the cause of many deaths in my family. As a child, I hated my life; I hated myself so much that I couldn’t accept me. I cannot find another way to paraphrase this context. I lived in agony. In hell. Especially when I was introduced to my stepfamily. My stepmother did her job perfectly well; torturing me and making me believe that I was a bad person. She had a magic spell in which she casted upon the people I thought wouldn’t judge me- like my teachers-, and she managed to brainwash them with her magic dust. She showed no care whatsoever when I first arrived, hence that is why she tortured me. She hated me so much because I looked like my mother whom she never saw, because my father spent the rest of his life with us and not with her and her daughters.

You know how Cinderella’s stepmother tortured her? Well that’s nothing compared to what happened to me. At first, she kept on spoon-feeding me words to make me feel bad and worthless which worked effectively. I was not to enter the main house unless I clean their toilets, their dishes and their rooms. I lived in a basement outside the house that had a tacky old broken toilet; there were no windows so no sunlight entered the room. I had no bed so I slept on the floor. I had to wear this specialized jumpsuit that I would wear when I would work. I couldn’t eat with them, look at my stepsisters or compare my life to them. I would hear them play outside; feeling the warm sunrays hit their healthy skin. I cried myself to sleep every-single-day, constantly.

You might ask, so where’s Aibileen? Oh, my stepmother is two steps ahead of you, she knew Aibileen wouldn’t allow such a thing so she deported her and banned her from entering the house premises.

As a reward, I would be fed. Sometimes she would force me to throw up what I had just to entertain herself, and I would starve. I thought for so long what have I done to deserve this. So I stepped up for myself and she stopped me from doing the chores. But then that was not enough; to my utter dismay I realized that the entire bullying going on in school was her hiring those children- which weren't necessarily students in the school-, actually paying them to beat me up.

I had some money to travel, so I went to Aibileen in Paris. She took me to London, to my father’s house and gave me some of father’s money from the safe. She was devastated by my appalling appearance; she knew I became obese just to make myself feel better (comfort food / binge eating).

I finally graduated from high school; I entered university and was verbally abused by some of my classmates. Therefore the incident that happened, which I had mentioned in the first post allowed me to go to Tokyo.

Every ounce of me wanted to seek revenge. When I got the opportunity with modeling, I did think of the outcome, I thought of every step of the circumstances as if it were gone according to the plan.

In my point of view, the way I see it is whatever my stepmother has done to me, her shallow idiotic tricks did not make me smaller. Instead, I gave grown into this person, her worst nightmare. She has stripped every inch of love I had towards her and replaced it with misery and hatred. And I can’t wait for payback.

I did sometimes do some things that did drive her mad. I would put too much salt in her food, burn some of her clothes if I had to iron them, ‘accidently’ break some of her precious vases. That was the little 9 year old me who had the guts to do so. The teenage me? She wanted to get rid of that phase of me so badly and that's when I bought my house. 

So you got the impression or idea of how I lived. And I am glad to say, I love who I am now, I love me because of what she has done to me; of who she created out of me: A devil.

I had finally arrived to Tokyo. The city I love, where my soul mate lives. I went back to my apartment and it just feels so good to be back. I showered and changed my clothes. A part of me wanted to go to Yousef. But there was this constant nagging between my thoughts and feelings, whether I should go or not. I set my thoughts aside and followed my feelings; I wore a simple dress, applied some lipstick and made my way towards his apartment. I wanted to surprise him with my arrival. I thought maybe I should get a snack with me and a cup of coffee then go over to his place. I got into a coffee shop, ordered a few snacks and a drink and walked out. I took the elevator up to his place and rang the bell. No reply. I waited for five more minutes then pressed the button. Again, no reply. I was concerned, so I called him.

Hello sweet heart!

I’m on my way; I know you’re back.  

All right, see you.

He hung up. How did he know? Did Aibileen tell him?

A few minutes later, the elevator doors opened and he handsomely walked down the corridor with his proper shirt unbuttoned up to chest and his blazer neatly folded on one arm. I bit my lip, he looked drop dead handsome. 

Hey, He walked past me and unlocked the door. No kiss on my cheek? Strange.

How about we go to the park together? I’m bored of this routine.

Are you fine? Is everything okay?

He threw his blazer across the room and it landed on the table. He dropped himself on the couch and sighed loudly. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes then he got up and we walked out the door. He left a gap between the two of us, I held on to his hand and he lazily held on to mine. We got into the car and he drove us to the park.

We got into the ferris wheel, the exact same spot where I had my first kiss. The butterflies started fluttering in my tummy, I could feel the adrenaline rush. 

This is going to be one life-changing ride! Are you ready?