I am beside myself with horror, looking down at Felecia’s mutilated arm. “Why, Felecia? Why do you want to torture yourself like this?”

And why am I asking? Surely there is no sane answer, no sane reason to do something like this? Surely it is pure craziness?

But Felecia gives an answer. “Because it helps me, Neo. It makes me feel better. When I’m cutting, the pain in my heart stops for a while. For a while it makes me feel calm.”

“The pain in your heart? What pain in your heart, Felecia? Help me understand this. What is hurting you so much?”

But now Felecia shakes her head.

“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone. Not ever! If I tell, really bad things will happen. Not just for me, but for my whole family. I can’t do that to Mama and Conrad.” She clenches her teeth together, presses her lips tightly shut. Her eyes are wide with fear.

Jabs, meanwhile, has been pacing up and down the room. He stops suddenly, and stands there still, on her white, fluffy sheepskin rug. He says, “It’s Mr Bucks, isn’t it? He’s the problem here, isn’t that right?”

Mr Bucks? I frown at Jabs. What on earth is he talking about? How can Mr Bucks be the problem? All Mr Bucks has done is give Felecia and her family the best of everything. And been kind and friendly and generous and hard-working.

Beside me, Felecia is shaking her head wildly so that her weave hides her face from us.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Jabs!” I say. “Use your brain!”

“That’s just it,” he says. “I saw, Felecia. I saw how you reacted when Mr Bucks touched you. I saw how you cringed away from him. Even though you tried to hide it, tried to control it. I saw the look in your eyes. Don’t be afraid. Tell us what Mr Bucks has done to you.”

It takes a while. But finally, finally Felecia breaks down and begins to talk. And once she starts, there is no stopping her. The words flow, like a dam flooding over its walls. I listen in horror.

“It was at that Lucky Dube Tribute concert, the first time. I was so excited that he was taking me there. Just the two of us. I was so happy. Especially when the one group was performing Victims. You know how beautiful it is. But then, while the crowds around us were dancing and cheering, that’s when he put his hand up under my dress. And he was touching me and saying, ‘Isn’t that nice, Felecia? Doesn’t that feel good?’

“So that’s why I stopped wearing dresses. To stop him doing that, but it didn’t help. And then – then when we were in Switzerland and my mother was in hospital with her leg broken – that’s when he got into my bed. Even though Conrad was just next door. And that was when he … that was when he…”

Felecia can’t bring herself to say the word. Jabs says it for her. “That was when he raped you?”

Felecia nods.

“But why didn’t you tell your mother?” I ask.

She explains: Mr Bucks told her it had to be a secret. He said if her mother found out, she would be angry that Felecia had stolen her man. Her mother would blame Felecia. He said if Felecia told, he would throw the whole family out in the street and they would be homeless and starving.

“But at the same time,” Felecia continues, “he kept saying how much he loved me. He put condoms here in my bottom drawer next to my nail polish. He said that proved he loved me and he wanted to keep me safe.”

And I am thinking: the concert tickets, the Swiss photo, the condom – all the things hidden in at the bottom of the boxes – they were all silent cries for help. And I never realised. No, I was too blinded my jealousy!

I am thinking too: this could have been me. If my mother had said yes to Mr Bucks’s proposal.

Felecia pulls down her sleeve now, covering up the scars. She says, “And who will ever love me now? What guy will ever want me? I am second-hand goods. Used-up garbage.”

But Jabs takes her hand in his. He speaks calmly, thoughtfully. “Listen to me, Felecia. Any decent guy will understand: this is not your fault. This was not your choice. This isn’t something you did, it was something that was done to you.”

I take her other hand and tug her off the bed. “We’re taking you out of here. Right now. You are not staying another minute. That bastard will never touch you again. Not ever!” I’m not speaking calmly at all.

She doesn’t argue, just packs a few clothes into a bag. And her toothbrush.

Outside my house, under a shining township streetlamp, I am saying goodnight to Jabs. Felecia is safe inside, safe in the bedroom my mother and I share, safe on my mattress under my duvet. She’s asleep already, I think.

Jabs says, “Tomorrow we’ll take her to the police station, if she’s OK about it. Then she can get him charged. Then she can know for certain that he is the guilty one. No doubt he’ll be jailed for a long, long time.”

I say, “You saved my cousin, Jabulani. How can I thank you?”

But he shakes his head, puts his arms around me, holds me tightly. “We did it together, Neo. You and I, with our different ways of dealing with the world. We are yin and yang, two halves that make a powerful whole.”

And it’s true, I think. Thought without emotion doesn’t have much purpose. And emotion without thought can’t get things accomplished. But put the two together and – hell yes – we can surely conquer the world.

Jabs strokes my cheek there in the glow of the streetlamp. He says, “Did I tell you how much I love you?” His voice is strangely husky. I’m not used to him sounding so emotional. And that makes it even more special. “Did I tell you how much you mean to me? That you make my life so complete?”

“Not this week,” I smile. Sounding like I am the calm one for a change.

I slide under the duvet beside my cousin.

Sleepily she whispers, “Neo, you know that dress with the butterflies? Can I wear it tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I answer.

But I think she has already fallen back to sleep. And yes, soon she is digging me in the ribs with her elbows. Just the way she used to do back when we were kids together and the house was crowded with both our families.

But I don’t mind, not at all. I put my arm around her and hug her tight. What’s a little discomfort when you love someone? And for sure I know this: I love my cousin.

***

Tell us: Can jealousy really prevent us from seeing a situation as it truly is, or warp our way of seeing a person? Have you ever been blinded by jealousy?