Captured (A Modern Medusa Story)

CHAPTER 7: PHOEBE💙

And then there was the girl who Noreen kept pestering me about.

The cute one, she called her. The girl who was always staring at me. And even though I couldn’t see her, I could feel her eyes burning on me.

I asked Noreen how the girl looked like and if she really was cute.

“She’s gorgeous actually,” Noreen had replied. “Chocolate skin, long braids, and a peculiar aura. You’d love her.”

I wished I could see her. But I couldn’t.

All I could grasp was the scent of her — like wildflowers, and her soft ‘hello’. I found it grand. I couldn’t believe I was thinking about someone I’ve never seen.

But again, I’ve never been able to see anyone since I was three years old.

Chocolate skin and long braids. I could conjure up a picture in my head with those rudimentary details Noreen disclosed..

But I wanted to know how it felt like to know someone better. Whoever that girl was, I was curious.

Maybe it was because no girl had never complimented me like that before.

Perhaps so. It had always been the boys. And worse, once they discovered that I’m actually blind, they run away.

No one wanted a disabled person, no matter how beautiful they were. That’s a fact I learnt the hard way. No one could love me. My father was probably sick of me and my friends were only there for the money. Their actions were all feet running towards my fortune. As if I couldn't sense it off of them. Being lacking of sight had made develop other ways to read people. I couldn't fathom their body language, but I could definitely make serious opinions based on their auras or sometimes even the cologne they wear. It was a blind people thing I guess.

In most part of my life, the only person I could lean on was Miss Halima. My amazing lifetime nanny. She had been with me since forever. I have no idea where Papa got her from, but she was one of a kind. She was the mother I never had. Taking care of me ever since I was a blind little kid till now wasn’t an easy job.

As a blind person, it was hard to trust people. I got bullied most of the time while growing up and my friends never hesitated to turn their backs on me. Despite all that, I’ve always dreamt of being understood and accepted. Though it seemed like wishful thinking.

I wasn’t capable of fitting in. An incomplete human. I wasn’t capable of being a part of this world. Unworthy of love, undeserving of a normal happy life.

That was the harsh truth, and that was the reason I never let my gates open for anyone.

Good people were hard to find, and now my standards were too high.

No one could ever be good to me for nothing. They were all merely doing me favors for the sake of pity and remorse, and even worse, my money.

Perhaps that was also the reason I developed an attachment to animals and majored in zoology. Maybe it wasn’t just my father’s influence.

It was because animals were more of friends to me than any person ever had been. One thing I loved about animals was that they were never fake. Or was it just the dogs? If they loved, then they loved. If they despised, then they despised.

That’s all I could ever ask.

Honesty.

                                    *  *  *

“Phoebe”

My father’s voice made me instinctively move my brailler away. He didn’t have to know that I was busy writing poems when he told me to stop and focus on my academics.