Schizophrenia

I think she didn't know about our past otherwise she wouldn't be blaming herself for his behaviour. That's obvious because Kabeer and I were in the same "Florence High" high school back then. The only people who knew about that were Ajwad and Esha. We were a group of five best friends and the three of us still shared the same bond in "Oscar Creek" college which was one the most prestigious Colleges in Seattle. I thanked God for such a pure friendship with those two everyday. Kabeer went to Australia and the other member of our group was Ayra. She joined a fashion school as she always wanted to become a fashion designer like her mother and although we did talk every now and then, the relationship wasn't the same at all due to the distance.

I wanted to laugh at Tate's assumption that her brother was being rude because I was her classmate.

"Thanks for the ride Tate, I really appreciate it" I muttered without waiting for her response and slammed the car door so loudly that I swear I heard something crack. Oh, I swear it wasn't intentional.

The December breeze was flowing gently and I shivered a little upon noticing that I was wearing a very thin black t shirt that had the words "couldn't care less" etched on it which did little to protect me from the cold and my jeans were also black which had a flapper style to them. I mean I wouldn't say I was an okay looking girl like a typical female protagonist you see in a novel who is unattractive and her only motive in life is to pine over a handsome yet arrogant guy. I sometimes thought of myself as a watered down version of my mother.

My whole face structure reeked of her younger self. I had her amber coloured eyes and light brown wavy hair which were long. We both had olive coloured skin and the only difference was that my lips were a little less plump than hers.The point is that I hated seeing myself just because this face reminded me of my mother's unlived life and potential. A reminder that taunted me that I was also going to end up like her and there was nothing I could do to avoid that. I shivered upon a memory.

PAST

8 years old Khansa

"What is happening to mommy, dad?" I cried during hiccups. Mommy was acting strange and I was scared of her. She looked like a ghost with her lifeless eyes and expressionless face so I closed my eyes and waited for my father's response who was holding mommy's shoulders in a tight grip. I instantly opened my eyes and noticed her hands were bleeding and dad was trying to snatch the knife from her.

He glanced at me and smiled painfully, "Sweetheart go to your room and wait for me. I will tell you your bedtime story" I didn't listen to him and stood there with horror etched on my face.

"You come near me again I will kill you and your daughter!" I whimpered upon hearing these words from mommy.

Mommy was staggering and digging her nails into dad's shoulders. "Nora, Come to your goddamn senses. You are sick, you have to let me take you to the hospital" Dad said in a calm voice.

If she was sick then why wasn't daddy giving her medicine like he always did when mom said she was having a headache or stomach ache? But then again this didn't look like a normal episode of a temporary body ache.

PRESENT

I came near my house and looked at our medium sized house which looked extremely dilapidated. Its brow colour was on the verge of wearing off. I mean I still had a roof above my head so I pushed the ungratefulness at the back of my head before entering inside.

This was the part of the day that was the most painful for me but here I didn't have to pretend to be strong. Here, I didn't feel like I was being vulnerable because there was no one to witness my weakness in my closed room. The thing about humans is that they use your vulnerabilities against you. I couldn't even trust my best friends with my inner turmoil. I couldn't trust them with my pain not because I doubted if they'd understand it. I just could not bring myself to share such ugly part of my life and taint our beautiful moments together with its ugliness. Here I could mourn the loss of my childhood and cry myself to sleep. I knew there was going to be no one to pat my head and tell me that everything is going to be okay. All I ever woke up to was my dried up teary face that used to cast a salty touch inside my mouth.

I entered the TV lounge and noticed my mother sitting on the sofa with that expressionless gaze that I had been seeing since childhood. She was staring at the blank TV screen with that gaze. I smiled, "Hi, Mom" I didn't know why I was fighting a lost battle? I knew she wouldn't reply to me. She did recognize me but schizophrenia was so ingrained into her that her replies consisted of a talk that displayed her brain's delusional world. I wasn't a part of it.

She just looked at me for a split second and then went back to gazing at the blank screen. She looked so thin and her clothes were tattered with dirty spots on them. She refused to change them. I had to do that forcefully every day.

I sighed defeatedly before trudging towards my room with a heavy heart.

"What took you so long!?"A booming voice from behind me made me jump and I put a hand on my heart to steady it.

I rotated on my footsteps and found my brother drilling holes into my eyes with his angry face. He looked the complete opposite of me with his ocean blue eyes and pale complexion. He had frizzy curls that were brown in colour. He was a spitting image of dad and I hated that more than I hated my resemblance with mom.

He was a university student but the fact that most of the days he was at home with his disgusting friends doing drugs revolted me. He was wasting his life and although I couldn't stand him I still worried for him and told him to get it together but all he ever did was look at me with those distrustful narrowed eyes.

"Zaviyan, there's this thing called college where students go and do a lot of things that take time so- I dramatically stopped and did "tsk tsk" before saying, "Oh, I forgot you spent most of your time outside doing anything but studying so how would you understand"?