Within the Sins

٤ A Taste of Venom

بعشق روحك والكلمات.

Yazid has finally realized that he is literally and metaphorically homeless.

His mother, Cynthia, a white, non-Arab Christian living in Canada, is probably too busy drinking at the moment. That was the main reason Hasan divorced her and distanced his children from her. His father no longer acknowledges his existence, and, although he wishes to, there is no way Yazid can keep a relationship with his sisters as long as they live underneath their father's roof.

Even though he does not know how his father found out about his addiction, Yazid does not intend to figure it out. From now on, he simply plans on moving on. After attending his university lectures, he visits his cousin's house.

Thirty-one-year-old Selena is a wealthy woman married to a wealthy man. Both she and her husband, Tamer, are successful lawyers. They have one daughter, Hanadi, who is almost two and a half years old. Selena is the only relative that Yazid attempts to keep a strong relationship with, so he visits her often.

Even though it is late at night, Tamer is out at the moment, and Selena is home alone with Hanadi.

"He kicked me out," Yazid informs her while carrying Hanadi in his arms. He sits down on the velvety, cushioned couch, appreciating his surroundings: light blue marble floors, soft tan walls with white crown moldings, crystal chandeliers, large windows covered with long, beige curtains that reach the floor, and well-carved Roman columns here and there.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop?" she rebukes him while serving him a glass of orange juice as a hospitable act.

He picks it up from the golden tray and rests it on the granite coffee table in front of him. "You think that's easy?" He rests Hanadi on his lap and secures one arm around her small belly, pinching her chubby cheeks with his other hand. She is a quiet child. "Selena, look. . .it helps me get through a lot."

"Like what?"

"It kinda makes me. . .forget."

"Forget what, Yazid?"

"Our financial situation, Sadeen's autoimmune disease, my parents' divorce, Sharif's death, my. . ." He suddenly falls silent, his throat becoming itchy. His heart starts to race, and blood rushes through his body. He takes a sip from the cup again and takes a deep breath before continuing. Hanadi starts to play with his scruff. "My mum. . ." His eyes fall to the ground. ". . .my mum when she fell into alcoholism and failed to recover every time she battled it. . ." He brings his furrowed eyes back up, settling them on Selena's eyes.

"I can get you help."

"I don't need help."

She laughs. "That's ridiculous. You do need help, sweetheart. You're still so young. You can't let your life fly by like this. Sharif didn't die too long ago; I'm sure you're still grieving over that."

Sharif, Yazid's closest friend, died after his car skidded off the road and into a canyon.

He murdered himself on purpose.

Sharif wanted to die, for he could not bear the dark reality that is life. His sudden death has led Yazid to feel the utmost guilt and shame. He never asked Sharif how life was treating him when it was clear he needed emotional support; he never bothered to take note of Sharif's silent cries whenever he laughed; he even told Sharif that "some people are unsavable" when he asked Yazid how one can pull through odious, dark thoughts. He did not mean that Sharif was unsavable but rather himself; Sharif thought otherwise however.

He is responsible for his best friend's death. He is responsible for not saving him before killing him.

Yazid loved Sharif, so much so that he was ready to die for him, but he simply knew that one cannot save a man if one cannot save himself.

He clears his throat and blinks a few tears away, kneeling down on the ground and resting Hanadi on the cold, yet smooth marble floor. He then heads toward the door. "I don't need your help, Selena. I don't need anyone's help. I'm fine on my own. I didn't come for this."

She puts her hand on his shoulder to stop him from leaving. "A sin is a snake in disguise, Yazid."

He stops in his tracks and twists his head. "What?"

"Sins are snakes." She gestures for him to head back in, and he obliges.

"You were never religious, Selena."

"I think of sins as that which is too harmful to commit to oneself. Think of it spiritually and morally, not just religiously." She pulls him toward the couch he was previously sitting on. "If an act is self-destructive, then it's a sin. . .but that's the thing with sins—sins are snakes in disguise." She straightens out her back. "You have to sit down and think about what that means, Yazid."

"I'll go down the wrong road if I think about that. I'll. . .I couldn't even tell you what I'd do if I think about that type of stuff. You don't even want to know where that'll lead me."

"You have to face the darkness before it faces you." She bites her lip, staring at the wall behind him. "Because once it faces you, there's no going back." She whispers the last part of the sentence.

Yazid stares at her for a few seconds in silence. "I know."

She looks back at him. "Do you, though?"

"Once it reaches you, the darkness kills you.