Writing From Life - Original Writing

Writing From Life - Original Writing

I couldn’t even look her in the eye. Not after what I’d done. What

she’d done.

Being part of a big family was difficult, but you always had someone

to talk to, but not this time. I was generally closest to Rabia. She

was two years younger than me, and to her, everything was simple and

had a simple answer. I think that’s why we were so close. She was

always great if you had a problem, or needed help. She was also fun to

be with, making up games that people would normally call childish, but

because she made them up, they were ‘cool’. It was because everyone

saw her as cool. She always got the best grades, and she had this

really sweet, persuasive smile. Her hair was cut into a short bob, and

she was what most would define as a tomboy; but those of us who

properly knew her, knew better. She spent an age making sure her hair

was covered with Herbal Essences conditioner when she washed it, and

although she was only thirteen, she put on make-up to create that

‘it-took-me-no-time-at-all-to-get-ready’ look.

Despite of her teenage antics, she was still the baby, my mother’s

baby, but she acted the most adult. Of course she still played

children’s games, but she was very levelheaded, and never petty. On

the other hand, she was the ‘sweet and innocent baby’ who could get

away with anything. If we were on good terms with each other, it would

benefit me. If not, I would feel the wrath of the beast. Don’t get me

wrong, it’s not that my mother’s not nice; it’s just that she’s

naturally a tense person. You can see when she’s about to blow. About

twenty minutes before she does, she purses her lips, and tal...

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...osed to shout. There were four of us in the room, and yet it felt

so empty.

“I’m going for a drive. Make yourselves dinner,” she said in a tone I

couldn’t understand. It wasn’t normal and calm, but it wasn’t angry

either. I couldn’t decipher it.

As she left the room, we all just stood there, silent and motionless,

like the wretched creatures we were. I wanted to go over to Rabia in

her corner and pull her out of it to comfort and protect her, as I

knew Zaina would to me; but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do

anything, especially with Laila around. We had caused this trouble,

and yet Rabia and mum were paying for it. Who knew when mum would be

back? Would she even be back tonight? All because of Laila and I.

I couldn’t even look her in the eye. Not after what I’d done. What

she’d done. What we’d done.