chapter twenty eight - explanations
song of the chapter ; not about angels - birdy
--
AFTER HOURS OF driving, Israfil finally found himself pulling into the driveway of his large house. He parked, pushing the handbrake down to lock the car in place. He let out a sigh, resting his head against the seat before he reached over and took the keys out of the ignition. His rings drummed against the wheel, a familiar feeling and something he did when he was anxious, then he turned his head to look at Farah, who was asleep.
He wanted to laugh slightly at how tiny she looked, practically drowning in his hoodie. The clothing reached her knees and the sleeves hung off of her arms, so she kept her hands tucked inside and drew the hood up to hide her face. Tendrils of curly hair escaped from it, successfully shielding her from the unusual cold of California this day. But instead, he contained his amusement and got out of the car, walking over to her side before opening the door. Luckily, she wasn't leaning against it, so she didn't fall out when he did so.
In one swift movement, Israfil scooped her up, nearly surprised at how light she was. He shut the door with his hip, walking up the stairs, careful not to drop her. Somehow, he managed to unlock the front door of his house and pushed it open, shutting it behind him with his foot. Without taking his shoes off, he went up the stairs, and straight to his room where he carefully placed her down on the bedsheets, watching as she curled up in them, burying herself in the cotton.
--
When Farah awoke, the sun was setting over the horizon, rays pouring into the room and onto the gray and white bedsheets that smelled heavily of familiar clean linen. She buried further into the mattress, wanting to sleep away her memories and problems. But no matter how many times she shut her eyes, she couldn't find sleep again; she was fully rested. The surroundings were tainted with glowing celestial starlight as if the bedroom itself were dipped in gold.
It was peaceful here, tranquil, even.
She looked around, eyes narrowing on the desk that certainly wasn't hers.
Her mouth dropped open.
She was in Israfil's bedroom!
Ah, shit, Farah muttered to herself.
She got up, as quickly as she could. As she scrambled to get out, her foot caught onto a blanket, resulting in her tumbling to the floor. She let out a groan of pain, a pang of tenderness shooting up her ribs. She was suddenly reminded of the softness of them, they were still healing a little bit from previous incidents. As soon as she had hit the ground, a loud thud resonated downstairs.
"Farah?" Israfil called in a panic, making his way up the stairs as quickly as possible.
Just as she was about to answer, another shot of pain slammed into her ribs. "Fuck." She cursed as he shoved the door open. "I'm- I'm fine." She stated, wincing as he helped her up.
Israfil's eyes scanned her, now a cerulean blue under the saccharine illumination of the sun. Just the sight of them against the contrast of his dark stubble, eyebrows, and hair was enough to steal the air right out of her damn lungs. His jaw was tight and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. He guided her to the bed to sit down, "Do you need ice?" He asked softly.
She shook her head, no.
"We need to talk." He said the words that she had been avoiding from hearing. Farah had hoped he would just forget about it, but she knew how he was; he had an excellent memory and almost never forgot previous events, and never broke promises. Slowly, she felt the bed dip next to her as he sat down, turning his face to watch her.
His gaze made her gulp, her hands seconds away from shaking. "Can I eat first?" She stalled.
Israfil nodded immediately, "Yeah. Did you leave your pills in the suitcase?" He asked.
She shook her head, "No, they're in the kitchen on top of the fridge."
He nodded his head again and went downstairs, returning shortly with a plate of rice and chicken, with a brownie and her pill wrapped in a paper towel on the side so that it wouldn't meet the sauce. He handed it to her, to which she thanked him and dug in. As she ate, Israfil cleaned up a bit, picking up pieces of paper from the floor or laundry to which he threw in the hamper.
After she was done, he had returned to his place on the bed. He watched as she put the plate of food on the night table and placed her shaky hands in her lap.
"Why?" Was the first thing that broke the silence. "Why did you leave?"
Farah did everything to make sure she didn't look at him dead in the eye because she knew that if she did, her mouth would open on its own accord and spill out all of her secrets uncontrollably. "I was scared."
"Of what?" He pressed. He knew what, but he wanted her to elaborate.
Farah sighed, "The fact that you killed him."
"Aren't you happy that he's gone, though?" Please say yes, his mind was screaming.
Her fingers fiddled while she bit the inside of her cheek, "Yes. No. I don't know." She said after a moment. "I wanted him gone, but I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to be the person I always thought he was deep down."
"And who did you think he was, deep down?"
She shut her eyes tightly to avoid the burning of tears, not wanting to cry. "I thought that he mistreated me because he didn't know how to love, he didn't have anyone to take care of him." Farah hadn't felt so emotional her whole life.
Israfil shoved the feelings of possessiveness back deep down where they belonged for now. "Do you still think that?"
"Partly," Farah answered, her throat feeling tight. "When I heard you say all of the things he had down to other women aloud, I felt like it was all my fault."
"Why did you feel like that?" He asked.
She stared directly at the wall across from her, "Maybe he wouldn't have-" She choked on her sentence. "Maybe he wouldn't have raped all of those other women if I had just given him what he wanted-"
"No." Israfil cut her off. "Don't say that," He told her, "It wasn't your fault, don't think that for a damn moment."
She looked at him then, unable to ignore the pang of her heart anymore. His chest constricted when he saw the true glassiness of them, the reflection of what a monster had done to her. That look made him physically hurt so much that he had to clench his fists to prevent himself from doing or saying something he shouldn't.
"I was going to kill myself that day," She was referring to when she had first met Israfil. "He had just given me the beating of my life for talking back to him. I had enough, I couldn't take it anymore. I drove to the nearest cliff, and the waves called out to me. I was going to jump, but then I heard you." Farah smiled sadly, her hand wiping away the stray tear on her cheek, her voice soft like the whisper of a lost soul.
"Coincidently, that's how I met him, too."
Shutup! Her brain yelled at her, shut the fuck up right now!
She couldn't stop. All of the words she had kept bottled up were now beginning to resurface, and it felt like it was tearing apart her heart from right between her healing ribs. "I was about to jump, off a building, but he stopped me, too. He looked like an angel, I swear it. He was everything I wanted in a boy." She then looked down, ashamed. "He convinced me to come down. We became friends, then we started dating and we moved to LA together."
Farah shook her head, deciding it was time to close her mouth.
"He was sick, Farah. He was fucked in the head." Israfil whispered the last part. "Everything he did," He paused, his hand reaching out and turning Farah's face towards him because she hadn't been looking at him anymore. "Was inhumane and cruel."
"He broke me." She stated, tearing her face from his grip. She didn't want to see the shame, the anger, and disgust on his face.
"Don't say that, Farah." His voice raised, "Don't fucking say that!"
She turned to him, "It's true, okay?! He fucking broke me and you're stupid for trying to pick up the pieces and put me back together again."
"That's not true." He argued.
Farah glared at the floor, emotions so overlapping and overwhelming she couldn't even identify them properly. "What do you want me to say, I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry I left you here."
"You still don't get it," He shook his head, letting out a deep, humorless laugh. "It doesn't matter what your absence did to me, Farah. It's you I was worried about. I wasn't worried about how much it was hurting me, all I could think about was how easy someone could grab you and walk out, just like that." Israfil's voice was heavy.
He looked out of the window, glaring at the sun, blinking away the tears. "You're always so worried about other people you forget about yourself. Your problem is that you are always so concerned about someone else, and whether they're going to hurt you or not. Your selflessness hurts you, it isolates you."
The first sob that left her mouth wracked his entire body with agony. "And I might not know anything about where you're from, or your favorite color or any of that bullshit. But I know that you are so terribly lonely, and you hate it."
"You asked me why I push you away," Farah choked out, "It's because I am so damn afraid of all the life you give me."
--
1721 words ?? OOF