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Shaken, Not Stirred (Part 2)

22 Friday Dec 2017

Posted by I.Ephraim in Creative Writing, Uncategorized

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author, Award, British, Creative Writing, Fiction, Friday, Home, Identity, life, lifestyle, love, relationships, Sad, Story Telling, writer

Part 1

“Jamal!, what’s taking you so long?” Emmy came bounding through the front door irritated that she’d been waiting for what felt like hours in the car. 

She stopped in her tracks as she took in the breadth of what was before her eyes. Chelle, butt naked on the floor and Jamal standing over her. 

Jamal’s head snapped back to see his girlfriend staring at him in utter disbelief. “It’s not what it looks like” Jamal stuttered. Emmy didn’t respond. “Let’s go” she said calmly. 

Not another word was said and they left.

Chelle had by this point sat upright with her knees close to her chest and her arms in a tight embrace around them. She was not going to move or make a sound. She wished the wooden flooring would open up and swallow her whole, but when has your deepest desire ever come true when you needed it the most. 

She was still there, live in the flesh, watching the entire scene unfold before her eyes like a showreel except she was the lead character living out her worst moment.

Chelle wasn’t sure what would have been worse, the two words said or Emmy going into a rage and beating the absolute crap out of her. It’s like when you’ve done something bad and your parents sit you down and say “I’m disappointed”. Those two words have the power to shift worlds and make any person rethink their entire existence. You’d much rather they scold you, that way they can feel guilty in the end, but no, they won’t give you the power. That’s how this moment felt to Chelle.

She sat there with her back against the steel cold leg of the God forsaken island and sobbed. Her body shook with the memories of all the things that went wrong over the past three years. She cried for her short comings and failures. She wept for her loneliness.

Two beeps were heard from her phone. With a wet nose and hot tears streaming down her face, she crawled over to where it was, hoping it was a message from God saving her from her current plight. It wasn’t. The message read “Be out by Sunday”. 

Murphy’s law was in full effect and Chelle could do nothing but wail herself to sleep. 

The sunlight coming through a gap of the closed curtains woke Chelle up. She stirred but didn’t move a limb. It was two hours later before she moved her body and slowly gathered her bearings. It was at that moment that she realised the mahogany stained floor had been her pillow and bed for the night. As she began to wonder how she ended up there, the events from last night came flooding back. She considered laying back down but the discomfort and aches in her body influenced her otherwise. 

With nothing left to give she walked towards her room. It seemed so foreign to her like she was seeing it for the first time and in some ways she was. She’d outgrown this space. This way of living and feeling hurt too much and she was spent.

Maybe this would be a great opportunity for change. She could have a do over and leave everything behind. She never did belong here, this was a poor attempt to live a life that she knew deep down wasn’t for her.

She picked up her laptop, typed in what she was looking for, done. 

Taking only a few treasured items and passport, she left. Chelle would return home.

Xo

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