stars shining in the black sky of my despair

218 24 3
                                    

12

Deze afbeelding leeft onze inhoudsrichtlijnen niet na. Verwijder de afbeelding of upload een andere om verder te gaan met publiceren.


12

Imani


Sydney's car halts in the middle of a street, and she switches off the engine. We share a silent pause, and I find myself questioning why my sister yanked me from my apartment to this place. I could have easily dismissed her, but there was something in her expression that urged me to give her a chance. It's 5 p.m., and this part of the city seems deserted, kinda like me, though there's still some glow to it, a spark that keeps it alive.

The quiet, though familiar now, shatters as my sister glances my way, her sunglasses concealing her emotions. Yet, I sense it, as she's always been transparent with her feelings. In this instance, it's evident she's about to unload something I won't appreciate but will bring her satisfaction.

"Do you remember what I said when you introduced me to Tyler?" The question, seemingly simple, carries unexpected weight. It's unusual for her to ask about Tyler, considering she's consistently downplayed his significance in my life.

I recall the first time she saw him; she was the first in my family to meet him, even before Jason. Getting Sydney's approval mattered because she was someone I looked up to, someone I believed knew what was best. I was confident she'd see Tyler as I did – perfect, driven, gentle, lovable. Yet, after dinner, as I held her hands with anticipation, Sydney didn't show interest during the meal. She didn't scrutinize him like she did with my high school dates; she didn't adopt a protective parent persona. Instead, she gave me a dead look and uttered those four words.

"You said you didn't trust him," I say, my stomach knotted with heaviness.

Silence hangs for torturous moments.

"Dad believed I should spare you from this, considering all you've been through with your husband gone. Why burden you with the knowledge that he lied to you?"

A sinking feeling envelops my stomach. I've never felt emptiness there; it's usually heavy with doubt, feelings, pain, and responsibility, and I've grown accustomed to carrying that weight, like an anchor pulling me down while my shoulders propel me forward. My body no longer feels like mine, merely dragged around, tethered to every emotion pulling me in different directions. And just now, when my sister claims that Tyler lied to me, it's as if I'm being dragged along the floor.

My mouth opens, then stills, and a breath attempts to escape, but I can't release it. Each time someone prompts me to speak, it feels more like rubbing salt on my wounds than applying ointment. It's not a cure but an infection to existing wounds, spreading and regenerating, welcoming a new variant of that virus.

She observes my expression but offers no comfort for the impending storm. Her eyes shift towards the compartment. "Open it. There's a file."

I turn my gaze to the compartment, trembling as I open it to find the file inside. I hesitate before delving in, holding it in my hands without rushing to open it. Sydney continues talking, and despite the blood rushing through my brain, I hear every word as if she's shouting them.

The Heartbreak Syndrome Waar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu