HIS ROYAL BRIDE

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17

[KULANI]

He left. After that maddening slap, I looked at him until shame engulfed him whole. How dare he put his filthy hands on me? I am looking myself in the mirror. With these plasters and a red eye, I look like I just exited a boxing ring, straight from a match I just lost. I am trying to calm myself down but I keep breathing out fire. I scoff. Honestly… how dare he? There’s a vibe about him that I do not quite get. When I first met this person, he had a lovable and friendly presence. Right now, he carries this inexplicable dark energy about him that I can’t quite place my finger on. My stomach grumbles and I remember that I haven’t eaten. I have completely lost my appetite but I need to eat. The chicken is probably cold by now. I leave the bathroom and go lie on the floor, next to the bed. I need the coldness of the tiles against my skin. My heart is sore and connecting with the ground is the only thing that makes sense right now. What I’m not going to do is cry. There’s this feeling of loneliness and isolation that insists on keeping me company. My pregnancy revelation comes back to me. I am upset because I can’t quite remember everything else that happened in that dream. I have this thing of knowing that I dreamt of something but still be able unable to know what it was exactly. I remember seeing AK’s face though.

He’s here. I can tell by the sudden coldness breezing against my skin and the smell of tobacco. I can’t see him but I can tell he’s on my right. Focus, Mandilakhe, focus. I urge myself to relax because all I’m receiving is that persistent ringing sound in my ear. I am too angry to even hear what he’s saying. This is what I have learnt: I will not hear a word when there’s chaos in my spirit. I am trying to muster some serene energy as I continue to lie on the floor. It is comforting to know that I am not by myself in here. I can’t help the defeated smile on my face. Now the tears come pouring out. The urge to cry is so intense and I have no idea where it is coming from. Lord, I am so upset yoh! My feet are heavy and hot. I feel like putting them against the wall. It always feels like I’m draining blood from my soles when I place them upside down and that always provides some sort of relief. The thing is, I cannot get myself to get up from here right now.

I don’t know how I ended up asleep but it was a short nap. I laugh when I realize that Kokwan’ Mavengana hypnotized me into deep sleep when I failed to calm myself down. It must be that thing he’s always smoking from that pipe. The information he left me with replaces my anger with absolute shock. I knew that there was something off balance with Mhan Xongi but I decided not to take it seriously. How do you feed your own son a love potion? Wait, how does my little sister feature in all of this? I should’ve cleansed my system the moment I had the chance. I am finding it difficult to retain dreams and make sense of spiritual data. It is beginning to mess me up. Anyway, this doesn’t change the fact that I still hate Fikani. I feel it is unfair that when people hurt us, we are expected to turn a blind eye to that because we know better. We are also expected to be empathetic towards them while all they do is inflict pain unto us. Guides don’t care and they have no time to nurse one’s feelings. I am realizing now that I am emotionally exhausted. This journey is slowly sucking all the joy out of me. As I sit here, I can literally feel myself spiralling backwards. My depressive episodes are making a comeback and I am going to do absolutely nothing about them. I pull the paper bag towards me and start eating. The food is cold, as reasonably expected.

The door unlocks and Fikani walks in with caution. Was he expecting to find me behind the door, ready to pounce? He did well by not leaving any weapon for me to use in here. Wait, this thought triggers an idea. I could get a weapon if I am serious about it. That mirror on the bathroom cupboard? I will think about this carefully when he leaves. He doesn’t know me. The thing about spending all years as a depressed introvert is that you live in your head a lot, making up scenarios. There’s a lot of crazy thoughts involved. I have always wondered if it would be easier to die by directly stabbing into my heart with a sharp knife or if I should go throw myself in a dam. Funnily enough, in as much as I would sometimes wish to mistakenly catch a bullet by being at the wrong place at the wrong time, I would equally wonder how I’d defend myself if I happened to be in danger in the hands of a man. This for me is quite normal, considering the country I live in. South Africa is synonymous to hell’s kitchen.