Inevitable Flaw

Chapter 37: Change

"Uh, I hate this," she elevates when her eyes start again.

"Mama, I will be fine," I try in desperation, not knowing the slightest whom exactly I am convincing.

"Okay," she studies me with hesitance before excusing her self for the bathroom, puffy eyes and inflamed lips.

"So still a no on the room thing?" Aasif questions, the joke commencing its old age.

"If I die from this, then yes, you can take my room," I grin.

His faces wavers with gloom, eyes venom like they were.

"You killed her!"

"Aasif, don't," I had fared through the overflowing of saliva, drugged in morphine.

He was hurting Adam's blossoming wounds, my head spiraling from the sight. I had no volume to my voice, no control of movement. And so I laid helpless as Adam voluntarily stood a victim to Aasif's violent abuse, his murderously strained eyes consuming my attention. He was breaking right in front of me, his expression miles gone.

"She doesn't want to see you," Aasif had roared, the novel feud nipping me in half.

But I did, I really did.

He never came back. Not once.

"So are you going to open these boxes or what?" Aasif abruptly elevates, grabbing the first case he sees. There is so much he's hiding in every gesture he evolves; it's forcefully invisible, yet so clear.

"Yeah, that's going into my room," I escape his troubled expression, inhaling a large volume of air to water the gnawing misery in my upper shoulder.

I grab my pills and swallow them with greed, taking in the vast apartment.

This is it; I exhale while inhaling my brightly lit living space; the idea of being an owner deems pinch worthy.

Mama and I start with the living room, finishing the area with warm caramels and whites; the entirety of it inspired to taste my fiend of vintage.

Aasif brings pizza when the night sprints its way, my mind wretched to the thought of their leave the next day. I savor in my meal with them, Aasif working with intensity to make me laugh.

It's all nice.

Yet, it's not, because my immunity from them is severing.

We slave until mama and Aasif are passed out in my lovely main room. I dim the lights and sit in a corner, admiring my two most important people sleep with peace.

I return to my bare room to unravel more untouched boxes, flinching as soon as I reach the one box I contemplated not bringing.

"Even if one of those rubbish items gets you through it, it is all worth it."

"Make good use of it."

I desired to keep to my promise; but another part, a greater part, craves to have pieces of him here. Still, I continue to discriminate it as society does innocent Muslims, my hands throbbing with one glance.

"Don't close your eyes, I'm right here, look at me, look at me," I was strangling in misery that was deliberately slipping me dead. Too blurry to comprehend, but an image of Adam kneeled beside me spiraled about, hair casing his distraught eyes. The obsessive concern stabbed the wound worse, I remember that too well.

My throat had instantaneously hoarsened from the strained screams, the weakness competing fast.

I recall his hands softly patting at my face to awaken my conscious, the cold touch so foreign.