the things I never told you part 2

I followed you out of the bathroom to the living room where a few friends had arrived. "Eid mubarak" purred a visibly drunk underage friend, I murmured a rushed "happy Eid" as my glass was topped off. Music videos on loop blared from one television in the smokey apartment and the boys played a game counsel on the other television. I think it was about soccer their passion.

My brother took a seat next to me on the couch, my mood was better then it had been in a while. A few drinks in I was cozy and my brother slide closer to me. He played with one of my hands and smoothed his thumb over the ring he had given me. I adverted my gaze to the random rap music video playing. He asked if I still talked to the kid and I admitted that I did. He was silent for a moment and lit a cigarette. I sighed and fanned the smoke with my hand.

Fast forward to half an hour later and I was drunk. I was feeling talkative and optimistic and I chattered on about things that don't matter. My brother became momentarily serious. He leaned closer to whisper softly in my ear, "tell me his name". I asked who and he pressed on to know who my ex boyfriend was and he'd been asking for months. Who was the one who broke me. I sighed, I don't know why he kept asking and I don't know why I bothered to protect him. I took his curls in my hand and pulled him closer to me to whisper the name. It felt like uttering a sin as the foreign words fell off my tongue, like stones into a pond. He sunk back into the couch satisfied. "I know this family my cousin married into it" he pondered aloud studying his cigarette. He took my hand again and told me to forget it and pulled me up to gather my coat and purse.

At the bar he pushed drink after drink into my hand. I had wanted to meet the kid once and for all to confess everything and be done with it. My brother knew this and I think that's why he made sure I was drunk. I thought I had seen the kid and tried to follow him, I was pulled back to the table by my brother. "Weenk ya bint" he shouted over the music his hand on my arm. I tried to tell him I think I saw the kid but he grabbed my faced and kissed me.

He was unusually aggressive and my attempts to pull away were thwarted. I was finally able to turn my head away from him only to be grabbed again. "Who am I?" he demanded and I said his name, as he kissed me over and over. I told him he was being too much and he admitted with a smirk that his ex girlfriend warned him he was dangerous. He asked me to say his name again and I asked why desperately as I pushed at him. Mutual friends hooted and applauded us to my shame, they commented that we were nice together. I hid my face in his coat and pressed my drink to my swollen lips.

My phone kept buzzing with notifications but every time I would try to read the message my "brother" would grab my phone. I read the blurry screen and was able to make out the SMS sent from the kid "I see you, wearing pink". I fled the bar to get some air because I felt like I couldn't breathe, outside sitting on a bench was the kid. I couldn't believe it, I tottered over to him trying to smooth out my wild hair. I nervously said hello and he stood up, he was tall. He surprised me when he hugged me and I almost fell since both of us were drunk.

I heard heated shouting in Arabic and I saw my now incestuous brother standing next to the kids friend a few feet away. They were arguing and shooting glances at us, my brother snapped at the kid in Arabic and grabbed my arm dragging me into the next bar. I looked over my shoulder frantically but everything was blurry, my eyes began to tear at this point. I asked my brother why he did that as he tried to wipe at my tears. I swatted his hand and tried to leave but he pulled me to him and held me.

My humiliation and frustration boiled over at this point. I knew I had been caught and by the angry buzzing of my phone I knew the kid had been told everything. I messily typed a hurried apology to the kid begging for his forgiveness and that he forget me. My brother took my phone from my shaking hands. His friend passes by and turns to me "even when you crying, you fucking beautiful".
I started laughing hysterically and almost fell over again, had my brother not been holding on to me.

 I recall being pulled to the car and pushed into the backseat. I was tearful again and on the verge on crying as I grabbed fistfuls of my own hair in frustration. I longed for the heavy lull of the pain killers my ex boyfriend had given me taste for. I regretted flushing the remaining tablets I'd found, after a failed half ass attempt at suicide months prior. My brother grabbed my hands and pinned me to the seat to prevent me from clawing at my face and was kissing me again. He sighed my name over and over as he pawed at my clothes and I tried to hit him.

The car door opened on the driver side and the least drunk out of all of us was the underage one. He catcalled at us at his friend pulled a girl from Tunisia, onto his lap and I drunkenly noticed she tried to keep his hands from delving under her clothes. I begged the driver to just drop me off at my house as it was not as far as the apartment complex they lived in. My brother made a tsk sound next to me and started talking fast in Arabic to the driver.

At the apartment we all staggered around to music while preparing snacks and switching to water. I realized and was unsettled by the fact that my brother wasn't even very drunk. He heated up charcoal for the shisha. I could barely keep my eyes open at this point and my brother told me to go sleep. I went to his room to sleep, like I had many times before but I was surprised he followed me. He usually stayed with friends for a few more hours smoking and playing video games or cards. I flopped down on the side I usually sleep and he spooned next to me. We kissed again and it wasn't until he tried to slide my cardigan off did I stop him.

He was talking a lot and I was so tired. I allowed him to grind against me as I pressed sleepy kisses to his pale face and black beard. He grabbed my arms and rolled on top of me, even with both our clothes on it felt invasive, I could feel his desire. I squirmed under him and told him to get off to let me sleep. I avoided his kisses and blocked his movements with my knees. He asked me to say his name and refused to answer my questions of why until I did. "I want to make sure you know who you are with" he stated simply, as if I could forget.

I scoffed at him until he tightened his grip on my wrist and asked how many men I'd been with. He guessed random numbers aloud 50, 60 guys? He was jealous and trying to wound me. I cried out in humiliation and shame at his outrageous claim. I'm not a prude nor a professional. I tried to slap his face and succeeded in grazing his cheek before he caught my hand. "I don't have sex with just anyone" I hissed. His answer was to latch onto my throat and suck deeply while I moaned a protest. He admired his handy work with his tongue as I gasped. I love and hate hickeys and under better circumstances that would have been sexy. I felt like cattle being branded and he had to hold my face still in order to kiss me again.

I woke up fully clothed in his bed with him cuddled next to me in the morning, his face in my hair and his arms around me possessively. I felt awful and nauseous choked by the cloying smell and combination of my perfume and his cologne, what deja vu. I hurriedly grabbed my stuff booked it out of the apartment still wobbly from the drink. The air was warm and bright outside, I caught site of myself in the lobby mirrors and paused. My hair was a wild tangled mess, my eyeliner long ruined and making me resemble a raccon, and my strappy heels were hanging off my feet. I could see glaring magenta bruises on my throat which I tried to cover with my tangled hair. I bit my lip as I dropped my eyes.

I hated what I saw. Little did I know that was only the beginning. Karma would come back around. The kid finished off what my ex boyfriend started and killed the last of innocence.

monster how should I feel

I had a nightmare about you again last night. Maybe it's because when my replacement phone arrived I had to plug the device into my laptop to transfer my contacts. I guess I had been lazy with updating my phone and it saved everything from Thanksgiving from almost two years now. All the pictures and old conversations between us that I've been trying to block out. Good thing I was finished with classes for the day I ended up in the shower for 45 minutes brooding after that. I'm making progress I didn't breakdown sobbing. I'm not going to lie, it hurt to see your updated profile photo on whatsapp. You standing at sports game with your back to the arena, unsmiling and serious as always. You were showing off the jersey you were wearing, thumbs hooked in the sleeves. You look a little bit older, you look a little colder baby. It still hurts to see your face.

Because it will be my birthday soon I think I am nostalgic. Last year you took me to a fancy steak dinner in the city followed by drinks at a club. I had bought a new dress and shoes for the occasion. You had gotten me perfume and a watch. To this day I cannot bring myself to purchase the brand of fragrance again. I hope the smell haunts you too. In my dream you had contacted me to wish me happy birthday and begged to see me. I agreed because I cannot stop loving you and I hoped seeing you would help me to get over you. The details are fuzzy but you began drinking, your cousins were also there. We slept together and it was rough and terrible I regretted it. I began to realize it was a blessing that you left me. I lost you for a period of time and than found you drunk and on top of another girl. She was hideous and sloppy, I burned with humiliation. I dragged you off of her to hit and slap your face. You ran away or I ran I'm not sure. I was awoken by thunder and a horrid beeping alert on my phone about a flood warning. The time was 3:45am and I felt exhausted and sad.

My mood for the rest of the day has been heavy. Why do we romanticize people who hurt us?