Chapter 2
EVADNE
I stood up from the position I was in. If I stayed out too long I'd catch a cold. I was already the
least paid stripper, the undesirable one. If I became sick now they'd definitely fire me.
I can't afford to lose the job. I don't have any documentation, no high school certificate, I had
nothing. I dragged myself through the street, my knees weak, craving to give out, to just lie on
the pavement and hope death would come.
I couldn't do it, I had to go home. In the comfort of my home, my cramped apartment. The street
wasn't quiet, there were people rushing from work or maybe going to night shifts. I suddenly
wished it was night time, because right now I was attracting attention I didn't need. The black
sheep who looked like shit probably hideous.
The dress I wore was pink, gentle and so out of place. While everyone I passed wore warm
comfortable clothes and had umbrellas and rain coats I was here looking as if I was trying to
seduce men. I wanted to wrap my arms around myself to keep me warm but I was scared, what
if they gossiped about me.
After walking for a while, I don't know how long I finally got to my apartment. The lift was
undergoing maintenance so I had to use the stairs but it's not like I mind. I always feared the
elevator. After watching too many movies I wasn't fond of the idea of dying such a horrible death
if something went wrong.
I kept climbing though my legs screamed for me to give out to just sit down to quit being strong.
First floor, second floor, third floor, fourth floor and finally fifth floor and already my breath was
running out.
I dragged my feet through the corridor and my apartment burglar was unlocked. Surely the
neighbors were here, one of them or all of them. I opened the door and walked in my drenched
dress dripping water on the floor.
I'd surely have to clean that up. My neighbors weren't kind, just tolerant. I bet they didn't like me.
It's always me who spoke to them, who initiated the conversation, who greeted them never the
other way around.
Laila, "you better clean up your mess girl."
For the first time I ignored her. I just went to my room and closed the door. What would it feel
like to jump off a building? Would my bones break? Would I die? What if I was left crippled for
the rest of my life instead of dying? I walked to the window and opened it then climbed up and
sat on the windowpane.
What if I accidently slipped and fell? My body was already weak. You see I would commit
suicide if I didn't fear pain. I tried self harm once but it hurt like a bitch. I loved watching the
blood, looking at the scar the razor had left but the process was what scared me. The will to die
was there but the courage was non-existent.
Would they finally care for me if I was dead? Would they realize the value of my presence?
Would they appreciate me after I am gone or would they not even care. Could I call Saint. Did I have the right to do it. I climbed off the window pane after a while and peeled the clothes off. I
looked at my naked reflection in the mirror. Virgin stripper.
Being black was kind of a disadvantage. Novels described their main character as a perfect
goddam beautiful woman. No, I was far from being beautiful. My skin was walnut brown, with
freckles on my face, curly hair that hurt when you combed it.
Would Saint love me if I was beautiful, if I had perfect straight hair, gentle flawless milk skin, pink
lips, and eyes that resemble nature, blue, green, Grey something.
"I hate you." I said looking at my reflection.
I bit my lip trying to stop myself from crying but the tears fell anyway. I quickly wiped my tears off
and looked at my reflection with disgust.
"What are you trying to do? Play victim? You did this to yourself. Fuckin bitch. I hate you so
much you ugly freak. Why couldn't you be beautiful huh? Couldn't you have light skin. It was
hard huh. You're a fuckin disgrace."
I turned away from the mirror and took the clothes that were on my bed. My room wasn't really
big but there was space. I made it work. My single bed, my little multipurpose wardrobe. It was
small but it's my home. I wiped myself off the rain water then slid into my night dress and gown.
I lay on my single bed and stared at the plain ceiling.
The ache in my heart didn't seize. It grew the more I thought about my breakup with Saint. My
phone buzzed and I immediately sat up looking for my phone hoping whoever was calling didn't
hang up and I finally found it under my teddy bear. My shoulders slumped in disappointment
when I saw who was calling me. I know she's my friend but right now I wanted to hear from
Saint.
I picked up either way and I was deafened by Laura and Rosemary' s shrill screaming.
"Did you see what gangster posted on his status." they both asked in unison.
"No, let me go and check."
They hung up and I went to his whats app status. There was a video of him unpacking gifts he
received and his face was hidden but I knew it was him. He wore the watch I bought him on the
day my friend sent him a breakup text. But that wasn't what caught my attention, what caught
my attention was the message written.
(the moment you realize she's for keeps)
That one sentence broke everything I had gathered in the few minutes I stared at the ceiling. I
looked at the things, none of which I had bought him besides the watch. The rest weren't from
me.
He was talking about her. He appreciated her effort and not mine. He chose her, not me. I put
my phone on the floor and buried my face in the pillow and cried. The only thing my mind
repeated was that sentence.
He loved her and she loved him. Again I wasn't the one who was chosen. For the second time
someone else beat me to their heart. History is cruel especially when it's repeated, especially
when the repetition of the incident is with a different person. It happened with my high-school
love, it's happening with Saint as well.
It hurts. It hurts God. They never choose me and it's all my fault because I'm not like other girls.
How I wish I could love and care for myself like other girls but how do I do that when I don't believe in self love.
How do I be like other girls when I've never put myself first. When I always put everyone else before me. I forced myself to fall asleep hoping the ache would fade by tomorrow and I'd be
okay.