Her Soldier

Chapter 4

"Hey," I turned and once again I was looking at the same lady from more than a week ago, "my name's Lala," she introduced and I shook her hand as she smiled at me. "I thought we should get to know each other a bit more since you got another letter." 

I tried to stop my smile but it slipped through and she smiled at me as well, "thank you," I said as I accepted the letter, "the name's Zack." 

"You're free to join my table, next time," she invited and I nodded as I turned to leave so I could go back to my container but she stopped me with clearing her throat, "my friends think you're cute." She admitted bluntly and I raised an eyebrow but smiled at her and she smiled as well. 

I looked over her shoulder and there was a table in the centre where there were five women who immediately looked down when I looked at them. I looked back at Lala and smirked, my ego getting the best of me, "they're very beautiful women." I commented as I nodded at her and took my leave. 

I just wanted to be alone and sleep. I wasn't in the mood for any kind of company. I just liked to sit down, eat my food and then go to my room, take off my clothes and enjoy my time alone in peace with no one pestering me. It's usually during these times that I think of what I've been through and what I see every day. 

It's always been the same routine but now, I had a different routine. I looked forward to Wednesdays and Saturdays, that's when letters came and I would eat, take my leave, be stopped by Lala and given my letter. I'd rush home, shower and then rush to my bed and read the letter with a smile on my face. 

I was enjoying the attention I was receiving from this strange girl that I knew almost everything about. I wrote to her about everything going on around me and told her as much as she wanted to know. 

I walked out of the shower, running my hands through my wet hair as I looked at the white envelope, smiling as I chuckled, shocked at the fact that such a simple thing could put me in such a good mood. 

Eagerly, as I always do, I tore the letter open being met with the beautiful calligraphy writing that impressed me to no end. I loved it because it made me feel like I was reading something so sacred and treasured. I kept every single letter of hers hidden in my fire proof safe along with some important documents. That's how meaningful these letters were to me. 

~~~Dear Soldier 

You asked me what's the one thing I truly despised and to me it's judgement. Negative judgement and meddling in people's business. It bothers me to no end because I've always been victim to this. 

After what happened with my father, I couldn't go to school anymore and I dropped out. It was the middle of the school year and I couldn't even sleep at night, I had nightmares and I could barely stop speaking to the "voices" in my head. 

My mother had decided to take me to therapy that year and that was when I met Henrietta, my therapist who has become my family and has only shown me love and adoration. I tried to heal, but I don't think anyone ever truly recovers from being the one who stabbed their father to death- no matter how terrible the man was. 

Henrietta tried to help me in those few months but I couldn't be repaired and I needed more time, so I took the following year off from school as well. How could I study when all I could think about was the screams of my father as I repeatedly...unleashed my anger. 

I started taking pills, medication, going to mental hospitals and so forth. I didn't try to fight. All I did was accept my situation and what came with it. I didn't want to fight and honestly at just 15 years of age, I wanted to die. How could I ever live with myself after what happened? 

It wasn't until I looked into my mother's eyes as she came to visit me while I was at a well-known mental hospital and she didn't look at all like the woman who had birthed me. I mean, even after my father beat her, she did not look like she did that time she seen me. I can't define the emotion as broken, no, my mother was not broken- she was shattered. 

And so was I, but we had to heal together. There was no way I would heal without her and there was no way she would heal without me. So I pushed myself. I fought with the demons until I couldn't fight anymore. 

Then I went back to school, heavily guarded by policemen which I found so unnecessary but nothing hurt more than seeing my face on the news, or hearing the constant whispers about me as I sat in the toilet stall, having locked myself in, about what I'd done and what a monster my father was that led to me killing him. 

I didn't want them talking about me. I didn't want them talking about my mother and shockingly I didn't want them talking about my father either. It was our problems! And we'd fixed it. 

I was back at school, 16 years old and in grade 8, but it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. Education knows no age and that's one thing I knew as I stepped into that class and I started high school from the very beginning. 

You ask me when I healed. It was when I was in grade 11, 19 years old when I woke up in the middle of the night after sleeping for an entire day and walked to my bathroom mirror. I looked at myself and what I saw was a depressed young girl who just wanted to die. 

I wasn't happy with that so I decided to change it. What can I change to make myself appear stronger? The strongest most powerful women I've known had one thing in common: acceptance of who they were and I decided to do just that, so I shaved all of my hair off. 

I wanted to start the new year afresh. I wanted to begin my final year on a clean slate and leave my demons behind. This is how I began this year. My hair has started to grow back, due to the use of all of these different hair foods my mum encourages me to use. 

I'm happy about who I have become. It's taking time but it's fantastic to be this free and to be able to sleep again. I enjoy the time I have with my mother and myself. I enjoy the moments of peace and happiness where we don't mention his name whenever we talk now. Instead we talk about everything else and before we can even think about him, we're tired and smiling as we say good night. 

Tell me more about you, Zack, you have no idea how I wait impatiently for your letters to come to me. And when it does arrive, I jump up and down in glee because my pen pal has written back. I'd love to know more about Zack Ryder, what is he all about? What makes him laugh? What makes him smile? Let's speak of good! Oh and speaking of good, my Dance is coming up and surprisingly, I can't wait. 

Signed off, 

Dudu~~~

I let out a breath after reading the letter, as though I had dunked my head under water and now needed to breathe. That's how these letters made me feel. I was weakened by her words that told a story of heartbreak. 

She knows the pain I felt. Maybe she doesn't, hers is very different than mine. My ego won't let me say that someone had it tougher than I did but I would whisper it to myself. She clearly has had it very tough. 

The more I write to her, the more I wanted to know her. I wanted to see her, to see this girl who's gone through so much and now has made it this far. I've already got this image in my mind but I can't put it into words. 

She's just like every other girl in my mind. She's the girl next door you'd never think anything would happen to, she's the girl who smiles so wide you'd think she'll never hurt a fly, she's the girl who laughs at every subtle joke and rolls her eyes at every sarcastic comment. In my mind, she's quirky with sass. That's what I see when I think of Dudu.