Chapter 32

My friends were terrified by my recent behavior, so contrary to what my parents said, they would sneak in to see me every chance they got. They brought chocolates, clothes, and anything they could think of to cheer me up, but to no avail. My once lively demeanor had dimmed to a mere shadow of what it used to be, and their efforts were like trying to revive a wilted flower in the middle of a desert. 

They would always find me on the floor the cold, hard floor that had somehow become my favorite position. I guess it felt right because it matched the coldness inside me. They would pick me up, their hands gentle but their voices filled with a mixture of fear and frustration. Muted words of consolation would fill the silence as I cried, my tears seemingly endless, drenching my face, my clothes, and their shoulders. I would cry all night long, a never-ending cascade of sorrow that would steal sleep from their eyes. But they never left; they stayed, holding me in the darkness, letting me drown in my tears if that was what I needed.

One day, Nancy snapped. She had always been the strong one, the one who never let her emotions get the best of her. But this time, the strain was too much. She stood over me, her voice trembling with a combination of anger and desperation. "Look, Leila, I'm sorry about your baby. I know you feel bad, but the fact remains that you made a choice, and life must go on. You were naive and innocent everyone would understand that. You are no murderer. You had no choice."

Her words, meant to comfort, cut through me like a knife. They didn't make me feel better, instead, they made me cry harder, the sobs wracking my body like a violent storm. Nancy watched, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She was at the end of her tether, and usually, when she got to that point, I would obey. I would do whatever she wanted, just to stop the tension from bubbling over. But this time, I couldn't. I was too far gone, trapped in a pit of despair that I couldn't climb out of on my own.

"Leila, look," she continued, her voice harsher now. "You aren't the first woman out there who has had an abortion. So forget it and move on."

Her words bounced off the walls of my mind, echoing in the empty space where my hope used to be. I didn't respond. I couldn't. My voice was lost somewhere deep inside, buried beneath layers of guilt and shame.

When I didn't respond positively, Nancy's patience snapped entirely. She grabbed my arm with a strength I didn't know she had and dragged me to the bathroom. I was too weak, too emotionally drained, to fight back. She filled the bathtub with water, the sound of it filling the room like a ticking time bomb. I watched, detached, as she turned to face me, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and determination.

Without warning, she shoved my head into the water. At first, I didn't struggle. I was too stunned, too numb to understand what she was doing. The water was cold, a shock to my system that jolted me out of my daze. But even then, I didn't fight back. I just let her do it, wondering in some distant part of my mind if this was what I deserved.

Then, I ran out of air. My lungs screamed for oxygen, my body convulsing in a desperate attempt to escape. I struggled against her vice-like grip on my head, but it was no use, I realized then that i wanted to live, I didn't want to die, I forgave my mom because I held a grudge all this while against her , that she gave me uo to my grandma to cater for but at least she was not a coward like me that didn't even try. Nancy was strong stronger than I ever knew. Panic set in as I realized I was about to black out. Just when I thought I would lose consciousness, she yanked my head out of the water.

I gasped for air, choking and sputtering, my mind spinning. "Nancy, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I managed to choke out. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Yes, I am," she replied, her voice frighteningly calm. "Do you want to go back in? Because I'm ready to help you die if that's what you really want. This is what death feels like, Leila. There is no painless way of dying. It's scary, and you're always alone. I have seen ghosts drifting, regretting their suicides. Trust me, you don't want to do it." 

If I head be in my right mind, I would have asked her what she meant by that statement, but honestly I wasn't thinking straight. I stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest. She was serious. Deadly serious. And for the first time in weeks, something inside me stirred—fear. Not just for my life, but for what I had become. 

Nancy's grip on my arm tightened as she continued, her voice low and intense. "If you don't want to die, then stop being selfish and torturing the people around you. Everything that happened is based on the decision you made, so you have to move on. If you choose death, I swear I will hold you under until you die, and nobody would ever know I killed you."

The weight of her words crashed over me like a tidal wave. I had been so consumed by my own pain that I hadn't realized how much I was hurting the people around me. My friends, who had stood by me despite everything, who had tried to comfort me even when I had pushed them away. I had been drowning in my own misery, and I hadn't even noticed that they were drowning with me.

Nancy released her grip, her eyes softening slightly as she saw the change in my expression. "Now dry up those silly tears," she said, her voice gentler now. "Diana's heart has been breaking to pieces because of you. Even your nanny is getting suspicious, and your grades are slipping, your skipping classes, We have tried so hard to cover everything for you, with both our money and making fake identities, and I am not doing it again."

Her words echoed in my mind as I sat there, dripping wet and shivering. I looked at Nancy, really looked at her for the first time in what felt like forever. She was exhausted, her usually bright eyes dull with worry and fatigue. And suddenly, I felt a surge of guilt so strong it nearly knocked me over. 

I had been so wrapped up in my own pain that I had forgotten the people who cared about me, the people who had been trying so hard to pull me out of the darkness. Diana, who had always been the optimistic one, had been devastated by my downward spiral. She had been trying to reach out to me, but I had been too far gone to notice. My nanny, who had practically raised me, had been watching me slip away, helpless to do anything but worry. And Nancy, who had always been the strong one, had been forced to carry the weight of my pain on her shoulders, and it was tearing her apart.

I had been selfish. I had let my pain consume me, and in doing so, I had hurt the people I loved the most. And for what? To punish myself for something I couldn't change? To make myself feel better by wallowing in misery? 

Nancy's words cut through the fog of despair that had clouded my mind for so long. She was right. I had to move on. I had to stop torturing myself and the people around me. I had to find a way to live with the choices I had made, even if it meant facing the pain head-on.

I slowly nodded, the realization sinking in. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Nancy."

She sighed, the tension leaving her body as she finally let go of my arm. "I know you are," she said softly. "But you need to start showing it. You need to start living again, for yourself and for the people who care about you."

I nodded again, tears streaming down my face. But this time, they were different. They weren't tears of despair, but of release. Of acceptance. I knew it wouldn't be easy, that the road ahead would be long and painful. But for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a glimmer of hope. 

Nancy helped me to my feet, her arm around my shoulders as we walked out of the bathroom. "We will get through this together," she said, her voice filled with determination. "But you have to promise me that you'll try. That you will l fight, even when it feels impossible and not do anything stupid like kill yourself"

"I promise," I whispered, my voice hoarse from the sobs that had wracked my body just moments before. "I promise I will l try."

And I meant it. 

The days that followed were some of the hardest I had ever faced. The darkness didn't just disappear overnight, but it did start to lift, little by little. I started seeing a therapist under another false name because I was too ashamed to use my real identity, something Nancy insisted on and I begrudgingly agreed to. At first, I didn't say much during our sessions, but over time, I began to open up. The pain was still there, but talking about it helped. The therapist helped me understand that it was okay to grieve, but it was also important to forgive myself, stopped cutting and began to heal the scars would always be there as painful reminders, but my friends refused to hear of it, I was booked for spa treatments, it involved several sessions and slowly the scars began to fade, over time.

Nancy and Diana continued to be my rock, but I noticed that they began to smile more as I started to climb out of the pit I had dug for myself. Diana was the first to truly relax, her laughter returning as I began to engage in our conversations again. She had always been the heart of our group, and seeing her happy again was like a balm to my wounded soul. The scar on my body had completely faded just like the one in my heart but at times in unexpected moments it hit me so unexpectedly but it was not as severe.

My grades, which had taken a nosedive, started to improve as well. I found myself focusing more in class, trying to catch up on what I had missed. My nanny, always a quiet presence in her gentle support and soft spoken nature prepared healthy meals for me courtesy the chef and gave me wonderful dessert s but she avoided interfering too much in my affairs after the last unintentional outbursts, I knew she stilo reported to my father but I was grateful all this occurred when it did as it would all be waved off as me throwing tantrums and being depressed because i didn't want to leave my friends and apparently wayward life style so it was a win win, because if they had dug deeper honestly, I would have been royally fucked and would probably not have been able to get away with all the drinking , pills and cutting, I would have been locked up in a sterile mental institution somewhere, with the key forgotten to be honest, because my parents barely even acknowledged my existence usually not to talk of when am locked up. Honestly I would have honestly truly lost my mind, am so lucky I have my friends.