Freeing or Fleeing

Chapter Seventeen - Below Rock Bottom

Chapter Seventeen

I got accustomed to the darkness; both within me and surrounding me. I couldn't remember the last time I saw light seep into the room that I had barricaded myself in, never opening the blackout curtains nor turning the light on. A moment like this had turned into hours, then into days and even weeks. In the same way, stress, anxiety and worry had consumed me; my thoughts had gone into overdrive. This was my destiny. This was my fate. This was my destiny. This was my fate. Over and over again I reminded myself. Food also seemed to be a thing of the past with occasions, when I was certain that the other residents of this house were deep into their slumber, I would open the door and take the wrapped up plate of food back into the room with me. How could I possibly eat when my hunger was filled with the stress of my life? Showering was the only thing that remained a constant. The burning sensation of the heated water splashing all over my body gave me a pleasure I could not get elsewhere when the physical pain of this sometimes helped bare the emotional pain I was going through. It helped that the room I trapped myself in had an ensuite bathroom, otherwise showering would have probably become a thing of the past too.

I spent days crying on the prayer mat, crying on my bed, begging Allah (SWT) to relieve this unbearable pain I felt, in any way possible. I didn't want to live like this anymore. I wasn't sure I wanted to live at all anymore. I felt as though I had gone below rock bottom and there couldn't possibly be anything worse than what I was enduring.

At first, I was angry; angry at Mum, at Eijaz, at Aaliyah and angry at my parents. Angry at Mum for her audacity. How dare she bring someone into my own home that was to replace me? I was angry at Eijaz for agreeing to all this. If he really wanted to remarry, why didn't he divorce me first and take me out of the picture instead of torturing me like that? Angry at Aaliyah for calling me and making me witness the end of my life as I knew it. Angry at my parents for letting Mum get away with this even though they knew what she wanted all along. My anger, however, turned into self-pity soon after. I mean, it had to be my own fault, right? Sometimes, Allah (SWT) pays you back for the wrong you had done. I must have deserved all this for it to get to this point. Maybe, if I had been more obedient to my parents, then this wouldn't happen. Maybe, If I was less selfish and pleased Eijaz, he would have paid more attention to me and tried to listen to me. Maybe, if I had been a good daughter-in-law to Mum, she wouldn't have sought another elsewhere. My failure as a daughter, wife and daughter-in-law had caused my own demise. At this point, I had convinced myself, that it was all my own doing.

The rattling of the doorknob brought me out of my thoughts and my heart jumped at the thought of someone entering the room, but when I realised the wardrobe blocked the door from opening, I sighed in relief. It's amazing what powers anger can give you. After what I had witnessed at home, I came back to my parents' and locked myself in my old room by pushing the wardrobe in front of the door. At first, I was planning to do that until I could collect my thoughts and decide on my next move but that just never happened. Some nights, when my hunger was excruciating, so much so that it bit into my sleep, I would move the wardrobe enough to slide the door open and pick up the plate on the floor without exiting the room and then shut it again, pushing the wardrobe back in front of the door. After realising I wouldn't leave the room, Mum started leaving food in front of the door, in hopes that I would come out when I was ready.

The rattling was followed by a knock.

"Hafeezah, Moina (endearing term for a child), come out!" Amma called from the other end.

That had become a daily, where she would attempt to get me out of the room once a day. I didn't respond. I didn't have the energy to anymore. At that moment, I was laying on the bed, my arms and legs spread out, staring at the same spot on the ceiling.