****
"Sometimes rape is not loud, its quiet.
Sometimes the voice is stolen by familiarity or betrayal
So the scream and fight is absent,
So you wish it isn't real and then cry because it is" _ Y

LIZ

Numb. I felt numb as he squeezed in between my thighs.

'Shhhshh' he silenced for the third or the fifth time. Not sure actually I usually lost count. One of his other hand choked my throat almost trying to make sure no sound came out or that he snuffed the life out of me. My eyes were filled to the brim with tears that never fell.

He choked and squeezed and I felt myself reaching for the kitchen knife I put under the pillow last night on a whim.

Turning with my spare hands as he rolled his eyes in ecstasy, 'keep your eyes on me Lizzy' he implored. It was always Lizzy to him never Liz.

Mustering all my strength now I jammed the knife into the side of his stomach, and all he always did was laugh. Laughing a loud carefree laughter "You think you can kill me girl, I own you"

'I own you girl,' shouting loudly.

I shot up from my position on the bed. My face was wet with tears. It felt so real just like all the other times I had the dream.

Dirty, so dirty.

The taunting voices called out and I dragged my tired body into the shower.

I needed to wash my body. I needed to wash. It was the only lucid thought in my head

I washed and scrubbed till my skin was red. But, it wasn't enough I needed to wash more. I still felt dirty.

He was dead now, he was dead right? Its what his wife typed.  Was he actually dead to me? Even in death he still owned me anyway.

The usual taunting voices were clogging my head now and all I felt was pain as my heart throbbed. I sat down on the flour of the shower luckily I still had my pants on. 

All i wanted right now was for it to stop, to make it stop.

How can the dead have so much hold over the living?

I had no idea how long I stayed there under that shallow stall all I know was my teeth was chattering like crazy and my head aching.

I dragged my tired self back to the covers not bothering to wipe off the water on my skin
I felt the rough jagged edges in the inner part of my thighs and ran my hands over them.

Scars.

Scars of every cut I made on my flesh to let out the pain.

God, I was so messed up.

Claws butting into my flesh, bile rising in my throat I wondered if it will ever end, if someday I'll be free.

Maybe, maybe not.
.
.
.
.
When I woke up again it was to a cool wet towel pressed to my head and temples. Pamela was definitely here, her presence alone was making me feel so much better .

Wringing the towel in a basin of water she began"I am a horrible friend. I know you are looking out for me, all I've been doing this entire trip is burdening you with my marital problems, you didn't even come back home last night. I haven't taken you sight seeing or cooked you so much delicacies and you are leaving in a week time" A cute frown marred her forehead and her lips were swollen probably from kisses, hickeys were littered along her jaw and neck.

I smiled at how she tried to cover them using a light silk scarf on her neck, she looked ridiculous with the scarf on her neck anyway.

Chicken soup was fed to me even though I insisted I was fine and could feed myself. Pamela fed me gently like my mother used to do in those days when it was just me and her before she got married.

"I don't need a psychology degree to know that something is also wrong with you Liz. When last did you call your therapist?" She asked.

I averted my gaze, not wanting to lie to her, "I'll be fine."

"Don't be a hypocrite. Take a dose of your medicine," this time around she fixed me with that no nonsense glare of hers that I had to make a mental note to call Doctor Grayson, my therapist since I was a child.

After feeding, sponging again and giving me some drugs she got into bed with me. "Sleep now okay, I'm here nothing and no one will harm you." slipping her hands into mine.

Burying my face into the pillow, I held her hand tightly and tears of gratitude tried to break free from my eyelids. Somehow I asked for a friend and God gave me a sister.

*******

4 months later

London

Unlike every other person in the 21st century I had no interest in the internet. My social media accounts were rarely monitored. I did not care much for it anyway after all I've seen first hand with my patients how much harm alongside good it does.

It didn't come as a surprise when I was seeing a mail about my lost purse from blue eyed stranger four months later.

It read; ' hey stranger, I collided into you at the airport and was rude to you for that I'm sorry. I  am learning basic communication skills like your friend suggested.

I found your purse after you left. Let me know where I can bring it to or meet me at the Lekki Shoprite Mall tomorrow afternoon by 2:00pm if convenient, I'll be waiting."

For a while I wondered if I should respond to the mail after all it was a long time ago. He must have gone to that mall to look for me so I had to appreciate his efforts at least. I decided to keep it short and simple.

Me_ So sorry I kept you waiting, just seeing right now.
Thanks for your efforts

Immediately my phone chimed with a response.

Wow! This took you four months to reply, do you live on planet earth.

Me: Sadly Yes

'You never accepted my apology for colliding into you Elizabeth.'

Sitting at my work desk, I was back to London now. Pamela and Chris still had issues but it was theirs to work out, The rest of my stay with them was filled with so much memories. It killed me to see both of them in so much pain and anguish but there wasn't really anything I could do, they had to fix it themselves. I missed the twins also, they were so cute and loveable, Daniel their son was recovering from his brain surgery already.

Leaving the mail alone I put on my ward coat. I had rotations at the EU(emergency unit) today and I had to work alongside my superior as we were called or a consult.

When we got to the ward we met an Army lady who served in Afghanistan. She had this permanent itch on the right side of her head. A particular spot that had deep scratch marks and was bold with a red gash. The more she itched the more she longed to itch. Her scans and lab test results all came back clear so we had no idea where to start from.

I read through her digital file as much as I could because it was mostly redacted by the Army.  She had itched so deep now you could see her skull bone and yet she kept itching.

Her drug chart was full of suppressants and histamine blockers yet no result. We sat and talked to her for almost an hour with no result her nail beds were full of her skin and dried blood. This was what I hated about being a doctor; It really hurts to know you can do nothing to help when all you want to do is to make your patient feel better.

As me and Dr Charles made our way back to our department. I mulled the case over taking slow concise steps while trying to recall if I've seen anything similar.

I turned right and decided to branch Physiotherapy department to ask Jude for my cookies.

He was my only friend here and this was my last day at the hospital so he promised me a batch.

When I got there he was sitting in front of a medium Biofeedback mirror beside a patient with Facial Palsy. He gently removed the pads of the Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulator machine(TENS) and started resistance techniques to the affected side, suddenly it clicked.

Holy moly!

Immediately I semi squealed and they both stopped what they were doing to look at me like I'm crazy.

" Are you doing those in front of the mirror because of the reverse image the brain sees and how control centres are in opposite sides?" I asked as lamely as could, because I've never truly fancied anatomy.

"Yea, could you excuse..." He could barely finish his response before I picked the mirror and ran.

"SORRY! Get another one please" Running back to the EU.

Amy was getting ready to leave already and there was a bandage wrapped around her head she tapped her hand on her body as they prepared to discharge her.

"Page Doctor Charles please," I called out to the nurse.

"Amy please sit for a while, I want to try one last thing. I know this has taken so much from you and I know how to feels to be at the mercy of a feeling you can't control. Look into the mirror and scratch the other side. Believe me your brain is interpreting it as if the itch is the one being scratched. I'll talk to you the entire time, I'll hold your hand just look and slightly scratch." I implored gently.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she started to do as I told her. It is truly insane to know you have no control of your feelings, your fears, your itch or whatever else.

As she scratched the opposite side, I saw the relief in her eyes at it was gradually subsiding and then I started "I read your file Amy, trauma makes us act out, the feelings that comes with it knowing you can't stop feeling that way can fuel anything in an individual but I want you to see the woman I see, she knows scratching it off won't takes the guilt away and although the mirror is giving your body the feeling that the itch is being satisfied it hasn't settled the root cause.

Your file says you were once an hostage captured in Afghanistan. Even though it doesn't give much detail, your hands still have bite marks from where you were tied.

How long were you tied up for Amy?"

"Three weeks. They made me bend to get food in my mouth like a dog and fed me water when I needed it." She said with tears and still kept scratching.

"You had an itch in your hair and for days your hands were tied you couldn't do anything about it, you couldn't swat away even a little fly.

You my dear, you are now free. Stop holding yourself down, scratch it out, cry it out, let's talk it out." I whispered holding her hands firmly in mine.

The tears that fell of her face made me feel so guilty, I said it like it was so easy to do.

Amy cried and stopped scratching and we talked for a while and I set up sessions for out Patient counseling.

"Wow. How did you even think of using the mirror? We will be so sad to see you go. I still can't believe you're moving to America."

Doctor Charles kept talking but I needed to get away. I just needed to be alone right now.

"I'll miss this place too." I gave a tight lipped smile and told him I was going to the loo.

SLAM! The loud toilet stall door echoed as I shut myself in.

Sometimes my job was so hard. To see your ugly self in people every day, to try to make them feel better but have no relief yourself. I tell myself its okay to help someone. At least, hey get to live better, a little brighter and happier.

What of you? Who will help you? Who do you let help you?

*******

Okrrrrrrrrhhh pipu!! Let's talk.

How long does it take NEPA to dry wire in your area after rain, for us its like 4 days😬😬😬 hence my absence.

Healing is a conscious effort! It won't matter the potency of the drugs if you wont take it.

All seasons end whether good or bad. I know at first it feels like you will drown especially with abuse but everything mental and psychological is a journey.

love and light always.

Orex