Broken, Grave

Nomzamo

I don’t know when or how I managed to leave that place, but I did. I got into my car, despite how sore my body was and I drove the hell on out of there, needing to get out of there as fast as possible. When I got home, I had to peel the beautiful white dress off my body that was now soaked in my blood, and the stockings that I had to use a scissor to cut off my skin since the dried blood made it impossible to take it off. I sat under the shower for what felt like hours, trying to cry but it was of no use, it seemed I’d cried enough and my tear ducts couldn’t produce anymore tears. 

I was now throwing whatever of my belongings that I could find into black refuse bags, too in a rush to look for my suitcase. I picked up my phone, going to dial Precious’ number because I felt like she was going to be the only one that I could go to like this. I pressed the phone to my ear, dragging the refuse bag and throwing it over my shoulder as I grabbed the keys of the apartment, closing the front door behind me. Her phone rang six times before she picked up, “…cuzzy?” she spoke into the phone. 

I fought the tears that were going to fall, “Precious, I can’t explain right now. Please send me your location, I need to see you. Something happened, something bad.” I chose to explain instead, in a shaky and panicked voice. “I just…fuck…I just have to get out of here, Precious.”

“Oh…okay. I’m currently in Midrand,” she gave me the address of the place that she was staying in and I went on my way. I got to the parking lot, tossing the refuse bag into the back and then starting up the car and driving the hell on out of there. I could only see through my right eye, and I hadn’t even looked in the mirror to see what I looked like. Just looking at the open gashes all over my body, I knew that I didn’t look pretty and I didn’t want to see what I looked like at my lowest. 

I wanted nothing more than to just run right into my parents’ arms, but I also knew how this would break them. I needed to just get a hold of everything, and face this matter for a bit, maybe wait until the swelling goes down. Mama’s got a heart problem, I just know seeing me like this will literally kill her. I drove to wherever Precious was staying, trying to keep as calm as possible, ignoring the painful burn and ache of my battered body. A body battered by none other than a 16 or 17 year old boy. 

I pulled up to the large and beautiful home that Precious was now staying in and just as my car pulled into the front of the house, the large glass front door swung open and Precious ran out. She ran to my side of the door and as I opened the door and she set her eyes on me, they widened to the size of saucers, her face one of absolute horror. “Nomzamo!” she gasped, her eyes seeming to fly over every inch of my face. She seemed frozen as if she’d never seen such a ghastly sight, her eyes looking afraid as she stumbled over her words, incoherently having some conversation. 

I cleared my throat, finally allowing myself to experience every bit of the pain that I’d been pushing back. She rushed to get me inside the house, practically carrying me because I couldn’t walk anymore, my desperation and adrenaline had worn off. She held me in her arms, grunting as she carried me the distance into her living room and letting go of my body on the expensive white cotton fluffy couch that looked like it belonged in Kim Kardashian’s home. I let out pained, yet quiet cries as she ran around the whole house, then came back to me, with a basin of yellowish water with a strong smell and cotton balls, and bandages and plasters. 

She silently cleaned me up, hissing at some of the more painful wounds that cut deep, as if just seeing them put her in the same amount of pain as me. I grit my teeth, trying to be strong at the painful sting of the Savlon infused water. When she came to my eye, she looked the most concerned, watching me with heartbroken, tear stricken eyes, “Nomzamo…” she began hesitantly, her voice cracking, “your…eye…” she covered her mouth, “I think it needs stitches. I think a lot of these…these wounds need stitches.” She tried to clean me up but the cotton balls were all bloody and ruined and it seemed I kept bleeding some more. “Nomzamo…what happened?” she asked me, her eyebrows deeply furrowed as she peered into my own eyes, her brown ones filled with concern and fear like she didn’t understand how this could happen to me.