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omniscient.
It was a saturday morning, the time read 7am and Nasir had just made her way out of bed.
The weather matched her mood, sad and gloomy. She wore her natural hair in cornrows neatly braided underneath her satin bonnet.
The recent tattoo she'd gotten was still wrapped with seran wrap, the words blades cut me deep, yet your words had cut me harder was written in arabic, her father's second mother tongue after the language French.
Although she didn't know entirely of his existence, she was still in touch with her roots.
She stood infront of her bathroom mirror, tracing her finger over it before flinching at the sudden pain.
Her head tilted to the side as she analysed it, her tongue poking the inside side of her jaw as she drowned in her thoughts.
Analysing herself similar to the way Forty did two days prior, when he almost lost hold of him self. Yet she was of course unkown to this, they were both ignorantly unknown to each others pain.
So close yet both so fair away.
They felt for each other similarly, although their reasons behind suffering contrasted colossaly.
babygirl you're broken, he can mend you.
*
Nasir had never seen Forty look so vunrable, on his bed he lay supposedly asleep. Next to him his phone vibrated on his night stand, alerting him to wake up yet he never did.
Nasir watched him.
His chest rose up and down ongoingly, she didn't realise he was awake.
This was the same position she'd been in just the other day. Laying there, just staring at the ceiling in a day dream.
So when Forty's raspy voice, evident with lack of sleep, asked the question; "You good?"
You could say it did more than startle her.
"I-, I thought you were asleep.", she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else.
His silence somewhat invited her into his room, instead of her presumed spot in the doorway.
Forty sat up, reaching over his nightstand to retrieve the opened bottle of water that sat there.
The big gulp he took out of it made his parched state very much known.
Nasir's curious eyes scanned over his room, everything was so pristine and specific. The orderly fashion things were set up in reminded Nasir of her mother.
Frowning at the thought of her birth giver, Nasir quickly exited her day dream.
"You know it's a quarter to twelve?", Nasir asked, looking up from the picture of Forty and a man that he deeply resembled, on his night stand.
Forty only blinked in response, he knew what time it was; it was present in bold red letters on the digital clock that hung just above his doorway.
The same doorway Nasir had just been under.
The two remained in a comfortable silence for the remainder of time untl Nasir broke it.
"What's bothering you?", her soft voice asked.
And just like that, Forty's many emotions came pouring out of his mouth, something like water out of broken dam.
So the same goes for him.
babyboy, you're broken; she can mend you.
*
Many go to sleep wishing for tommorow to be a better day, whilst others go to sleep wishing for tommorow to never come.
*
NASIR, now saw Forty from a whole different perspective; a perspective that her mind couldn't grasp onto and a perspective her eyes had yet to obliviate.
Forty had fallen asleep on her chest, his durag covered head resting directly on her bosom, as she sub-consioucly rubbed over the imprint of his waves.
Nasir lay there, just pondering. Although she thought about nothing in particular, the constant topic of Forty seemed to on-goingly reappear in her mind.
She gazed down at the young man, a lost young boy trapped in a scarred body; scars that were just a blatant memory of his past.
Scars that had been covered by layers of black ink, yet sadly the blank ink never made him forget.
Forget about the childhood that shaped him into the tainted boy he lived to be today.
The tainted boy he would die to be tommorow.
Yet there's always one soul that can save your own, maybe- just maybe: that soul is Nasir.
Tainted boy. Broken heart. Scars from his part.
Yet we still were unbeknownst to his full story.
The only thing needed to solve the puzzle of his past, was an insight into Hezekiah Ysan Umar's Background.
* It is deceitful to say that there is no cure to a broken heart.
To be able to mend, you need the remedy. To be able to cure, you need to identify the sickness. At times the sickness may be within, and others; evident through physicality. A broken heart is within, a tainted boy troughout.
baby boy you're broken, but i dont know if she can mend you. - love author.
Hurt people, Hurt people. This statement may go over many people's heads, the ones with tainted souls seemed to be somehow most oblivious to the undeniable truth of toxicity.
- taimoni.
*
This chapter is pure waffle. Short chapter: 870 something words. vote, comment & alladat. - Forty's name has been revealed.
