Tale In The Red Sand

Chapter Thirty -Nine

She could hear Layla's frantic shouts behind her, pleading with her to slow down, but she only kept running faster until she was not in her own room but her father's and locked the door behind her. She huffed out strained breaths as she stumbled to the four poster bed and slid down the edge of it til she was a heaping pile of royal blue. Her hair draped around her shoulders like an onyx curtain as she hid her face between her raised knees. She could feel her her heart thundering in her chest, it was unbearable.

Her father's window faced the side of the house, but she could still her the confused murmurs of the partygoers in the garden. The shame didn't trail too far behind, Hibaaq raised her head and placed trembling hands on her forehead. She had just ran from her own celebration because she was afraid of ... a few drums. She despised herself, scorned at her silly fears, but she couldn't talk herself out of it. She couldn't bring herself to go back downstairs and watch them beat their drums.

Hurried footsteps entered the hallway before Layla's breathless voice called out for her again. She was knocking on a door, her bedroom door, sooner the knocking stopped, then a click open. Layla sighed loudly as she clicked the door closed.

"Hibaaq tell me what's wrong." Her footsteps walked up and halted just outside her father's bedroom. Hibaaq watched the shadow of her feet. The room was so dark, the only light source was the golden that streamed in from below the threshold. "I know you're in there. You used to hide in Adeer Warsame's room every time we fought when we were kids." Layla sighed again. That was true, her father's bedroom was a sort of sanctuary for her when she was younger. It seemed nothing has changed, presently. It was the only place she could think of besides the many other rooms in their abode. Her father's room was the most comfortable, the inanimate representation of the man himself. It was warm and it harboured his comforting scent.

Hibaaq rose from her crouched position on the floor and twisted the small silver key in the keyhole. Layla entered as Hibaaq slumped back down at the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong?" She urged.

"I'm sorry it's the drums — I can't be near them it's takes me back to that place where they tried to," Hibaaq paused, trying to swallow but her mouth was leaden. "I can't stand the sound of them." She told her, her eyes searching Layla's face for any disbelief or disappointment, but her friend was expressionless.

"We don't have to use them, we don't have to buraanbur at all. This is your celebration Hibaaq, you make the rules." Answered Layla, her sharp eyebrows knitting together in concern. "Don't apologise." She said as Hibaaq opened her mouth to throw out another apology.

"I don't want to spoil it for everyone, Buraanbur is tradition, it's supposed to be fun. I just don't want to be there right now." Hibaaq disclosed. "I know I scared everyone by running out like that, just tell them I'll be out in a moment."

"Hibaaq don't be too hard on yourself. I get that you're trying to be strong for your father and for yourself, but it only recently happened. The wounds are still fresh, you are allowed to hurt, to be afraid of the things that remind you of it, you're allowed to cry." Layla plopped down on the floor next to her.

"I'm going to ruin your makeup." Hibaaq patted her under eyes with the tabs of her fingers as she sniffled back her tears.

"Ruin it, I can always retouch it." Layla chuckled. Hibaaq couldn't hold in anymore, the tears that had been contained to her waterline all this time began to pour out like an open dam the second she blinked.
Layla rubbed soothing circles across her back. When she looked up from her knees, her face wet and her nose runny, Layla was still by her side rubbing her back. She felt better, she couldn't say much for her appearance though. Her hair felt mussed and her gown probably wrinkled and her makeup smudged in all places.