chapter 7
730 Words
I didn’t plan to cry that hard.
I didn’t plan anything.
One moment I was kneeling, staring at the gravel digging into my skin the next, tears were falling like someone had pressed play on all the sadness I’d paused for months.
I stood up in the middle of the punishment.
People stared.
I walked into the corridor and dialed my dad’s number with trembling fingers.
He picked.
“Hello?”
But I couldn’t speak.
Not one word.
I just stood there, phone shaking against my cheek, breathing like a child lost in a crowd.
He hung up.
Seconds later, my mum called.
“Why are you crying like that? Are you pregnant?”
I let out a choked laugh sharp and bitter.
“What?! Is that the only thing that can make me cry like this?”
I said it was because Mariam’s mother punished me when I was supposed to be preparing for my Commerce test.
A lie.
But it was easier than the truth.
I couldn’t say: I’m crying because I haven’t cried for my brother for some months now. I’m crying because I’ve been holding it all in. Because I’m tired.
So I gave them a reason they could understand. A safe one.
My dad didn’t take it lightly.
Before I knew it, the school owner was involved.
She must have spoken to Mariam’s mum.
That week, I was called to her office.
She didn’t shout. She didn’t even look angry.
“Tell me what I did wrong,” she said, quiet.
“I don’t like hurting people. If I went too far, I need to know.”
Guilt hit me like a slap.
I stared at her hands the watch on her wrist, the way she folded them like she was holding herself together.
But I couldn’t speak.
Because how do you explain to someone that it wasn’t about the punishment?
That she didn’t do anything worse than others had done before?
She
I didn’t plan to cry that hard.
I didn’t plan anything.
One moment I was kneeling, staring at the gravel digging into my skin the next, tears were falling like someone had pressed play on all the sadness I’d paused for months.
I stood up in the middle of the punishment.
People stared.
I walked into the corridor and dialed my dad’s number with trembling fingers.
He picked.
“Hello?”
But I couldn’t speak.
Not one word.
I just stood there, phone shaking against my cheek, breathing like a child lost in a crowd.
He hung up.
Seconds later, my mum called.
“Why are you crying like that? Are you pregnant?”
I let out a choked laugh sharp and bitter.
“What?! Is that the only thing that can make me cry like this?”
I said it was because Mariam’s mother punished me when I was supposed to be preparing for my Commerce test.
A lie.
But it was easier than the truth.
I couldn’t say: I’m crying because I haven’t cried for my brother for some months now. I’m crying because I’ve been holding it all in. Because I’m tired.
So I gave them a reason they could understand. A safe one.
My dad didn’t take it lightly.
Before I knew it, the school owner was involved.
She must have spoken to Mariam’s mum.
That week, I was called to her office.
She didn’t shout. She didn’t even look angry.
“Tell me what I did wrong,” she said, quiet.
“I don’t like hurting people. If I went too far, I need to know.”
Guilt hit me like a slap.
I stared at her hands the watch on her wrist, the way she folded them like she was holding herself together.
But I couldn’t speak.
Because how do you explain to someone that it wasn’t about the punishment?
That she didn’t do anything worse than others had done before?
She sent Mariam to talk to me later.
“My mum said I should ask you what she did wrong.”
I stared at her, too.
And again, I said nothing.
Because what I wanted to say was:
Your mum didn’t break me. I was already breaking.
But instead, I stayed silent.
Like always. I wanted to say was:
Your mum didn’t break me. I was already breaking.
But instead, I stayed silent.
Like always.
- Writer
