I was in my gloomy bedroom, laying and checking my phone, when she came in. Swiftly I dragged down the notification bar and put on the flash light as I heard footsteps coming towards the foot of my bed. Her showy red short gown shone through the raying light. Then I jolted up and sat upright with my perse short and nude chest, surprised. She didn’t tell me she was coming. Infact she had been coming at her own will like she owned the house, or, in another sense, rented the space for me.
“You this damn good for nothing, useless, asshole,” she said with raw American accent.
I felt the bleating sound of her voice fell on my mind like heavy droplets of rain. My heart beat faster and my thoughts started spinning around the symmetric rhythms of her voice. Her hopeless avowals weakened me. I had always begged her hoping she would stop this. Is it a crime to love, and be emotionally fragile, to her?
We were meant to be strong together, you know!
She reaIly would have been helping me fogged a stronger force out of my weakness with her motivating words. But I couldn’t cotton on why she gaslighted me, even at the slightest opportunity. I couldn't know why she made me question my own being, if indeed I was born to always fail like she had been claiming.
I stood up and my thoughts started trotting the part of relieving the doom that could make her turn her words in my favour, not in violence and without hurting her. I wanted to quench the fire burning down the wax of love we both held, before the melted hot liquid wax started dripping down our bare hands.
I curled my right hand palm and stretched it hoping it landed on her nape, but she dodged, and my last four fingers draped lightly over her chest. More than thrice my attempts didn’t meet any fluke. Then a stare into her eyes made me feel I should knock her out of my room, and my life, as she stood some 80 centimetres away from my grasp.
Deep within me, I still wished she had given me the chance to sort out any difference we were sharing, peacefully. So I pressed on and started petting her with the softest words I had ever learnt, yet my attempts failed again.
Soon anger seethed through every parts of air I breathed in and my gut became made up. But being harsh on her, fighting her even with words, would have reneged on my gentleman ethics.
Each passing minute drove me more enraged. Her sight irritated me even more. Not long enough raging words started gushing out, first through my mind, then my mouth, like mass of light gas escaping through a small chink in a conduit.
“Stop it. I have power over my mind.” I actively declared.
She wriggled and I saw scars of fear like debris in her eyes.
“I’m enough. I’m powerful. I’m successful.” I recited.
Soon I stretched my eyes out of its wrinkle sockets and watched her glowing image fade away with the bold sound of my voice. I never knew mere words could break her, I thought.
I stood and saw my hands hanging in the air as I stretched them to hold her close, and I realized she was not physically present. She was the pretty girl deep inside me, who owned the negative-oriented voices in my mind.
I defeated her and felt like I had conquered the continents of the world, because to conquer the world you have to conquer in the battlefield of your mind.
©Menyene Ekong
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