Phoenix ✔️

Chapter 14: Keeping the Promise

"Ugh, I feel like I got run over by a dump truck," Colin complains, as he comes down the stairs. I crack another egg in the pan, while scoffing at how whiny he is being at that moment.

"Ah, shut your mouth. My dad has multiple sclerosis, and he did all he could to make some money for our family. It's one hangover," I think to myself, as I wait for the eggs to cook. I try to tune out Colin's continued bitching, because it gets annoying considering how insignificant hangovers are compared to some pain that others have experienced. 

I hand him his plate of breakfast, without uttering a single word, and he takes it very willingly. I turn off the pan, and I drop it into the sink for washing.

"Ugh, I'm so glad that I have a late start today. I need some time to ride out this hangover. It's like having a cactus for a brain," he complains even more, as he continues to eat his breakfast.

"You probably do have a cactus for a brain. And it's hollow too," I think to myself, as I start to wash the other dishes in the sink. Eventually, Colin brings over his plate, and drops it into the sink as well.

"So, Nicole, quick question. Since you're a German speaker, can you understand Arabic, since the languages are so similar?" he asks. I resist the urge to facepalm with the pan that I'm washing.

"I was right. He does have a cactus for a brain,"  I think to myself, as I pour water on the pan.

"They're nothing alike. German is in the Germanic family of languages, and Arabic is in the Semitic family. Why do you think they're related?" I ask, and he shrugs.

"I don't know. They just sounded so alike. I have a Jordanian coworker in my office, and I heard him speaking Arabic. It sounds like the German Mark speaks." 

I roll my eyes. "Why couldn't my mom have married me to someone who at least has a positive IQ?"  I ask myself, and I continue to scrub the dishes in the sink.

********

"Well, I'm going to work. Don't try anything funny," he warns, in his suit and tie, and he heads out the door.

"No promises," I think to myself, and the second that he locks the door, I jump onto the couch, and grab the laptop. I log onto his account, and I go to Google Drive. Colin made the stupid mistake of writing his password in a notebook, because his memory is smaller than that of a peanut, so it was an easy find.

Once I log onto Google Drive, I log into my Google account, and I head to the 75 page document titled, "My little diary." For the past few years, I've been using writing as an excuse to let out all of my emotions that have been compacted into a little bottle. I've been writing about my experiences as a touted phoenix by my family and friends.

I've written about how I've, metaphorically, rebirthed from the ashes after being burnt down due to death caused by the plethora of factors fighting against me. I've written about the abuse from my mom, the troubles in school, and my unfortunate marriage. So far, I'm proud of what I've written, and one day, I hope to share it with the rest of the world.

For the next couple of hours, I just let whatever emotions I have bottled up inside of me flow out of me in the form of words, and onto the document itself. I feel like the rope that's acting as a restraint to hold me back is cut, and I'm free to write whatever I feel onto the document.

I spread my wings, and I fly through the world of imagination and let the air of words soar past my wings. The rocks of description, the rivers of flow, and the wildlife of imagery are included in my work. At this point, nothing can stop a flying phoenix like me, and no one shall ever get in my way of stopping me.