musou black.

“Where are you going, Anna?!”

Honestly, I didn't know where I was going or what I was doing but I knew I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. It was getting too much.

Mom looked at me angrily as she held onto the midnight black steering wheel of her Volvo XC90, her leg pressed down firmly on the accelerator pedal. Her eyes were blazing with fury and those venomous curse words coming directly at me flew out of her mouth like it was an immutable part of her. We were travelling at an insane high speed on a 50 and the cops were on our trail, following every single movement we made.

I didn't know what to do. Cry? Scream? Laugh… What do I do?

At that point, I just saw her pale pink lips moving up, down and sideways and the words coming out of it seemed to fade into the background. Into the uncultured cold breeze that our high speed generated.

My heart was pounding. I didn't know if it was mango seeds or coconuts it was pounding (the coconut’s more appropriate). I felt very cold and my back was covered in sweat. The sweat trickled down my face and made me more conscious of the danger ahead.

Is this how I was going to… die? No, no, no. I panicked.

Mom wasn't always like this.

She went into a hospital room. Stayed there for about ten and half years. Totally missing out on very important moments of my life. Only my father and brother were allowed to visit her, they said I was too small. I was about four or three at that time.

I remember when I was little, when Mom used to bring me these small lovely red heart-shaped sweets with a dimly glowing green stick attached to its pointy edge. Me and my brother got our weekly supply of popcorn and it was like the best days of our lives. Those were the happy days, as he called them.

Fast forward to ten years later, she came back with a vengeance. For what??

Tantrums. Impulse buying. Hurling vague insults. Picking fights with every human being that ever exists. Very unagreeable.

That was not my Mom. But guess what, she's the same Mom! The Mom! In full flesh and blood.

At least, that's what I thought.

The police sirens behind us were getting closer and closer but Mom's speed wasn't relenting. She pressed harder on the accelerator, aiming to do exactly what you're thinking.

Man. I was just at college. Chillaxing with a couple of friends, figuring how we'll tackle our new project. And bam! She shows up. Drags me up from the red café chair I'd been sitting on, in full view of the other students— 1080p HD, pissing the hell out of me and sending shivers down my spine. My friends tried to stop her but they were no match for that crazy being.

Back to the present, my heart would jump out of my mouth if I stayed in this fast and furious situation any longer. I had to act fast and I had to act now. I was going to jump.

The degrading insults that could send someone straight off a cliff continued flowing casually out of her mouth. Her hand was still steady on the wheel and her face was now fixed on the road as we roughly dodged vehicles ahead of us and manovered our way. This was my chance.

The sirens kept blowing.

My heart wasn't stopping.

It was better I died this way.

The air grew stiffer and more intense, not supplying enough oxygen to my hardworking lungs.

My hands reached out slowly and shakily, grasping the steel bar of the door handle. That was when she asked me the question. Let me repeat it so you understand the gravity of what I was about to do.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING— ANNA?!”

Pursing my lips and shutting my mascaraed eyes, I press down on the lever and allowed my whole body to crash freely on the oncoming vehicle as I willing threw myself outside. Then, my world became musou black.

I can't tell you what happened at that moment, cause I only remember seeing black— musou black, with intense pain engulfing my whole being.

When I woke up, I greeted the white ceiling with a small grin. I shouldn't be alive. I shouldn't be alive. But I am. Oh, thank you Jesus!

I saw my brother, Enzo, asleep by my bedside. His thick blonde hair was scattered and the hem of his blue striped shirt was stuck to the bed frame. His hands were interlocked on the bedframe, supporting the weight of his head. As I moved my legs to sit upright, Enzo stirred from his sleep and suddenly jolted up, looking right at me with his emerald-green eyes, his lips breaking into that heart stopping smile.

Gee, my brother was beautiful. That girl who was gonna become his wife had to be as beautiful as him, unless… swipe, swipe. You could already guess what job he did.

He buried my head in his arms and made me inhale his usual cologne. Boy! It feels good to smell this Arab scent again. He released me after a gentle pat and kiss on my forehead then sat back on his chair.

He stopped me from talking and went outside to get God knows what. Immediately , I felt really weak and it seemed as though my insides were disorganized. Every movement was a chore. A bloody chore. I could totally imagine my future— in a wheelchair!

Suddenly, the memories of that horrible evening came slowly and then moved like flashes in my brain. My head hurt as it did, replaying the intense fear I felt that day.

I didn't even know why she did that to me.

How could the woman who showered me with my favourite candy be so horrible? No. Impossicant.

My mother can't be horrible!

Just as all this drama was playing out, Enzo returned to the room looking stoic.

As he sat down, he slipped my palms into his, and looked at me intently. I asked him a few questions regarding how long I'd been here and what really happened to me the day I attempted a suicidal feat I had luckily survived.

He told me that I'd been in coma for about a year. My whole body was battered and I acquired multiple fractures and had a dislocated ankle plus a premium brain injury that the doctors thought I wouldn't survive. My skull was a very bad shape, considering the speed at which I was ejected out of that sturdy vehicle. Luckily, I responded well to the treatment I was given and recovered in the space of one year.

Mom had been in jail, served six months and Dad had developed a stroke after hearing what I did. Dad? Daddy?

Enzo reassured me that Dad was better now and that he would soon come to visit me.

I still wanted to know how he was faring. My poor dad. Suffering all these years from my mother's tantrums and psychopathic behaviour.

There was still one more thing he needed to tell me. So he rubbed my both hands with his thumbs and asked me to give him time before he tells me.

What did he want to say? He should just tell me already!

I was discharged from the hospital after two months from waking from coma but had to come back every week for regular check ins. It was tiring but my friends, Enzo and my Dad helped me get through it.

I had to learn how to walk again and sometimes, I'd just start speaking gibberish out of nowhere due to my brain injury. The doctors said it was what again? I can't remember.

One fine afternoon, the sun was illuminating everything in its path, making the grass glow like it was emerald and the sky's deep blue colour could swallow someone whole— that's true but that wasn't the point. It was this afternoon, when I was just minding my business, sipping my second cup of espresso and enjoying the midday sun’s beauty that Enzo fulfilled his promise.

He parked his Aventador at my front porch and marched towards the door. I opened it and pulled him into a short embrace, just enough to smell that familiar Arabic goodness.

We talked for a while— work, studies, life in general, before breaking the news to me.

He referred to the woman who was with me in the vehicle— Mom, as Hilda. Last time I checked, Mom's name was Eleanor. What was he talking about? Where did this Hilda stuff come from?

He confessed that that woman I referred to as Mom, who almost ended my life was our stepmom. Our Mom had died one year after a brief illness. He and Dad pretended to see her at the hospital for years and even though I insisted on accompanying them, I wasn't permitted. They said I was too small. So when they presented me with “this” mom, I didn't know the difference, because I didn't really remember what she looked like since I was three at the time.

He explained that Dad did that because I had missed their Mom's presence so much that they had to find a replacement for her.

*What the hell?!

What the actual hell?!*

Is… What…

Okay. This guy was kidding me with a I-kid-you-not face.

How can he say my Mum is not the… same person? I cannot believe…. Wha...?

Wait, wait. Slow down.

The tears began to fall steadily and I became utterly confused.

Enzo ended his confession with a series of apologies, trying to hold me in a hug.

I wanted no hug. I declined his hugs and asked him to confirm that his confession was really true.

So, that woman is really not.. my Mum? Is that why she's so mean??

Oh!I sobbed.

Did they think I couldn't survive without a Mom? And…a woman like her?

Of all women to pick, they chose her?

Ohh! My head hurt.

Enzo tried to comfort me but I was so pissed off and disoriented that I violently pushed him out of my way, pushed the door open and ran off across the street, not looking left and right or paying attention when suddenly, it happened again. With a loud thud, and no sensation of pain, everything went back to musou black.

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