MALAKAI
Part 2 : Malakai Starts to Disappear.
She slept on the left side of the bed.
She wondered who was sleeping next to her, the stranger’s soft long hair touched her shoulder and she hesitated to turn around and look at her face. She had no memory of coming home with anyone, the last thing she remembers is finishing her bowl of noodles in bed and then watching her favorite show. She didn’t leave the house, she didn’t call anyone to come over, it’s almost like this stranger appeared in her bed, and she had no idea who it was.
She imagined what kind of skin did the stranger have, was it soft? Or harsh? Did her job require her to use her hands, or was she one of those models whose skin treatment was high-end and expensive? She gave her a name; Leila, and a favorite color; blue, and a hobby; ice-skating. She imagined how her days went by like: she’d wake up every morning earlier than everyone else, she didn’t have a car, never could afford one, so she had to take public transportation which led her routine to always start earlier than her colleagues who owned their cars. She lived not far from the city though, just far enough for the quietness of family neighborhoods, but close enough to the bars and hip spots for women her age. She wore a lot of suits, she worked a desk job, she packed her launch every day yet never cared for a healthy diet. Leila’s days were monotone, she worked the same job five days a week, went home to the same one-bedroom apartment every evening, had no pets, very few friends she saw on the weekends, and a loving father whom she’d call every 3 days to check-up on. Leila was allergic to carrots, so when her colleagues offered her some of the carrots cake yesterday, she had to refuse, which upset her colleague and offended her, but Leila never cared.
Malakai laid awake in her bed while thinking of all the ways Leila behaved, outlining her psychology, imagining what her relationships must’ve looked like. She would be a loving partner, but harsh nonetheless, she needed time and space to get to trust you fully.
Malakai wondered what did they have in common, were they both readers of feminist philosophy? Did Leila like comic books more than biographies?
Endless questions occupied Malakai’s mind, so she stared at the dim reflection of light on her window and nursed herself to sleep.
The muffled voices started to invade the room, heavy boots marched beyond the door, she wasn’t asleep yet, and as soon as she heard the sounds approaching, -terrified- started to think of all the ways she could escape. But there was only one window and one door to her room, any movement from her part will be seen. So she laid there, next to the stranger, still and breathless, waiting for anything to happen and break the excruciating suspense. The steps got closer and closer as the minutes rolled by, she couldn’t figure out how many of them were there. Maybe 3? 4? No more than 5 people with intensely harmonized steps.
She coughed, barely, running out of air under her covers, and it was all it took for the sounds to go dead-quiet.
Hell erupted, bullets flew everywhere in the room, breaking the chandelier she DIY-ed herself and cutting through the covers, her clothes, and her skin. Malakai was shot dead again, for the second time.
Strangely, time didn’t stop.
