(Annoyed, lost in thought) That chatterbox... does she even know what it means to mind her own business? She knows how much I hate explaining myself, especially when it comes to my private matters, and yet she still had the nerve to meddle. We've fought over this more times than I can count, but she just won't stop. (Clicking my tongue, muttering) "Where does she even get the nerve to provoke me like this?"
Restless, I jumped out of bed and stormed out of my room barefoot, not caring about the cold tiles under my feet. My house has four bedrooms. Mine, the ensuite, is located near the lounge, separate from the other rooms. Lisa's room is down the corridor, opposite the first bathroom, and close to the third bedroom.
I knocked on her door several times. No answer.
I pushed the door open, and it was empty.
I went ahead and checked the other rooms and restrooms. Still nothing.
(Thinking aloud) "Where could she have gone this early? It's the weekend. She doesn't work today. Why didn't she at least tell me?"
I returned to my room and picked up my phone. I dialed her number twice. It rang from inside her room. That meant she was somewhere nearby and had intentionally left it behind. It calmed me a bit… but not enough. I still wanted to find her and drag her back to explain herself.
I threw myself on the bed and closed my eyes, trying to sleep. But I couldn't. I was burning with rage. Sleep was nowhere near me.
Hours passed before I finally heard her voice. She was singing. She sounded cheerful.
Perfect timing.
I rushed out of my room toward the kitchen, where her voice was coming from.
"Having a good time, are we?" I said coldly, standing at the kitchen entrance, arms crossed tightly across my chest, glaring at her.
(Startled, holding her chest) "Oh my God! Tasha, are you a ghost? Can't you make a sound when approaching someone? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
(Rolling my eyes, uninterested) "Where did you go so early without your phone?"
(Still preparing cereal) "I went for a jog, then visited a friend. I didn't bring my phone because I hate holding it while running. And the clothes I wore didn't have pockets. Besides, I hate taking calls early in the morning, especially on weekends."
(Sternly) "Since when did you start jogging?"
(Surprised and uncomfortable) "Whoa, what's going on? Why are you interrogating me?"
(Sarcastically) "Wow, just two questions and you already feel attacked? Now you understand how it feels when someone sticks their nose into your business, right?"
(Confused) "Tasha, if you've got something to say, just hit the nail on the head."
I had her full attention now. She stopped making her cereal and was trying to brace herself.
(Frowning, stepping forward) "Sure, let's skip the fluff. Have you been itching for a fight lately?"
(Anxiously) "First of all, stop moving toward me, and what do you even mean? What happened? Did I do something?"
(Stopping just inches away from her, furious) "Oh, don't play dumb with me. After digging into my privacy and running to Anne, now you're acting innocent?"
(Offended) "Stop insulting me, Tasha. And don't you dare call me a gossip."
(Raising my eyebrow, menacingly) "Oh? You're suddenly bold now? So I should let you insult me instead? Think very carefully before you speak again."
(Slightly trembling but trying to hold her ground) "Okay... I think I get it now. This is about Anne, isn't it? Well, I didn't gossip about you. I just gave her a heads up. That's why I'm here, to look out for you. Why can't you appreciate that? If it weren't for you, I would be....."
That was it.
Before she could finish, I grabbed her by the neck and pushed her hard against the refrigerator. Anger had taken full control of me. She tried to free herself, but I wouldn't let go. I didn't block her breathing, but I made sure she felt the pressure.
(Coldly, through clenched teeth) "Listen to me. Stay out of my business. You're playing with fire. This is your last warning. Don't you ever bring up your sacrifices again. That door" (pointing) "is always open, and I'll gladly watch you walk out. I didn't ask you to stay here, Anne did. So if you're staying, respect my boundaries."
I finally let her go. She rubbed her neck, twisting it side to side, trying to ease the pain. My hands were trembling from the fury still coursing through me. I looked at the red marks on her neck. I had nearly crossed a dangerous line.
(Coughing, defiantly pointing at me) "You see? That right there is why you shouldn't skip your sessions. You need help, Tasha. You know it."
She never knows when to shut up. Always talking. Always pressing buttons.
If I didn't leave the kitchen, I was going to do something I'd regret. So I turned, walked out, slammed my bedroom door, and collapsed onto my bed.
Tears came pouring out. That was the only way I could let go of the rage, through silent, exhausted crying. I was tired of not being heard. Tired of being pushed. Those therapy sessions were doing more harm than good. Instead of healing, I was bleeding inside, again and again.
I wasn't myself anymore.
I picked up my phone, plugged in my earphones, and played some music. Within thirty minutes, I drifted off to sleep, finally, a bit of peace in a storm that never seems to end.