Don't Remind Me

Chapter 33: The Heartbroken

"Let's play something Laylee." the gleam in his gray eyes scares me. Reminds me of the other times he 'Played' with me.

"I hear Ruby calling me. I can't play right now Musa." I mumble back, unconsciously pulling my legs together. I am wearing a bright yellow sleeveless summer frock that reaches my knees. 

He likes frocks. 

It is so easier to play when I'm wearing frocks. 

"We'll be really quick, Laylee."  His grip on my bare arms tightens, dragging me someplace secret, and we're suddenly in shadows.

I don't understand what he wants when he rubs against me. It makes me cry, but I don't. 

"If you cry, I will tell your Mama that you let me touch you here..." His hands demonstrate the threat, crawling intrusively into my Barbie underpants. "Will you cry, Laylee? Will you cry for me?" 

"Please don't." I cry anyways. I always do that. Cry harder when he tells me to stop crying. "I don't like it when we play."  I squirm against his hold, but he is stronger. 

His arm wraps around my mouth, as he muffles my sobs. His other hand guides one of my own and he makes me touch him someplace unforgivable. 

I feel dirty. Which makes me cry even harder. Struggle even harder. His grip on my mouth tightens. The gleam in his eyes looks manic. Like he is enjoying my struggling.

"Don't fight me. I will always win. Always." 

I woke up then. Shivering as I often do. My face is wet, and my throat is aching to expel the tears that Musa's fear made me swallow. 

Confused by the remnants of sleep, I frantically start pushing myself away from a threat that isn't real. It takes a few minutes for me to realize that I am not a nine-year-old anymore. 

This is my first flashback in over two years. 

I haven't been this afraid in a while. My hands are shaking as I draw my comforter over me securely. It takes a while for the cold to seep out of my body, but the irrational fear just refuses to leave. It lies at the bottom of my stomach, a huge bowling ball of fear, that makes me tremble. 

When will it stop? 

Will it ever stop? 

I need someone to tell me that my fears are silly. I need someone to tell me that I am the strongest girl they know. I need...

I need him right now. He knows what I need, just by hearing my voice. 

My hands automatically reach for my cellphone, blindly pressing the speed dial for his number. 

He is often awake at this hour. It is almost time for fajr (Morning) prayers. He'll listen to me, and then he'll reassure me in that deep voice of his that my fears are silly, and my dreams are probably caused by indigestion. He will make me laugh and then--

I had already pressed the call button, when reality crashed over me. 

I numbly disconnected the call, before throwing the phone away from me. 

Azaan Malik is no longer someone I can call at 4:30 in the morning. 

He isn't anyone, anymore. 

This time when the tears came, and the anguished cries left my mouth, I wept for an entirely different reason. The cold fear of my nightmares replaced by the hot angry tears of a lover betrayed. 

"You're not in love with me. You're in love with an idea of me. An idea of someone you've come to need. And I won't be that person anymore. I refuse to be that person."