After my mother changed the topic, I disappointedly shuffled to my room and sat next to my bed. I felt so empty, like I somehow belonged to some dark place. After a while, I pulled my razor from underneath my pillow. I started cutting my arms because seeing blood was the only thing that could lift my mood. It let me know that my opinions matter too. No one was willing to listen to my sorrows, and that happened until I found a friend in my arms and wrists. They never complained about bearing the pain, and I stared at my blood dripping on the carpet and fell asleep right there.

The weather where I lived was notoriously fickle, and the sun reflected in my room when I woke up the following morning. The first thing I saw when I woke up was my razor. I took it from the table and put it underneath my pillow, then I took my toiletry bag and went to take a bath. When I was finished, my mother and Ella were nowhere to be found, and I only found a note on the table written in my mother’s handwriting.

We will be back, avail yourself and clean the house.

I felt numb, and I was expecting Nomalanga’s call because I had no friend except her.

“My little girl, don’t even have a friend, friends are demonic.” That was my mother’s favourite saying when I was young.

After a while, I did all the house chores I was required to do. After I was done, I went to play with my classmates by the Big Rock. We enjoyed playing hopscotch, and I at least felt at home when I was with my peers. Nomalanga was also there, and when she asked to talk to me in private, we went to sit by the big rock.

“Are you okay?” Nomalanga asked. For the first time, someone bothered to ask about how I felt.

“I can’t take this anymore,” I responded, showing no emotions.

“What do you mean? What’s your name by the way?”

“I am Azania.”

“Nice name,” she said. She then smiled, exposing her large left dimple and white teeth with a gap. I loved everything about Nomalanga. “Did you tell your mother about what happened yesterday?” she continued, reopening old wounds that I had used my blood to bury.

Before I could answer, I saw my mother’s car cruising down the road. I ran home faster than Caster Semenye, but when I got there, the car was already inside the gate. My mom glared at me, and I took a deep breath and went inside. I made myself useful by carrying grocery bags.

Later that night, when my mother started setting the table, I helped her without her asking. I loved helping where I could. While we were busy, the doorbell rang. My mother let them in, and it was Nomalanga’s mother with a man young enough to be her son. I stood by the door, and I could clearly see and hear everything.

“Grace and Trevor you are welcome,” my mother said to her guests. “Azania!” she shouted my name, and I dragged my feet and entered the room.

“Ma? Sanibona,” I greeted them, but they didn’t answer, they just glared at me. How could a stranger do that?

“Please go and buy Trevor beers at Glassy Waters …”

“But mama, you went to the mall. Besides, I am too tired and I can’t walk a long distance.”

“Are you back chatting me? No wonder you were nearly raped and once raped, you’re loose. You piece of trash!” she clucked.

When my mother said this, I opened my mouth wide in shock. I was so surprised, how could she? I wished the earth could swallow me.

“And I am sure you seduced the teacher you accused of raping you, you are immoral and disobedient!” she added.

I stood rooted to the spot with embarrassment.

“And I can see that this one is mischievous like my good for nothing daughter,” Grace added.

I opened my mouth even wider. I was unfairly judged by a stranger whereas they say ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’.

“Close that stinking mouth of yours before you swallow us all!” my mother monstrously shamed me.

I slowly closed my mouth and turned my back to them. I then returned to my bedroom and did my homework, even though physical science hated me. I tried solving a problem until it solved me, and when this happened, I saw my dream of studying psychology fading away. I felt like screaming. I was already repeating grade 11 for the third time, but I couldn’t solve an easy problem. While I was breaking down, my sister entered. She sat next to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I stared at her blankly and exhaled heavily because I was fuming.

Tell us: How do you think Azania will confront her sister?