She had a headache so bad, that she wished she was dead. It was the sort of migraine that promised her she would continue to suffer, but not die.
She had one hell of a headache. A consistent, nagging headache. It was named ‘people’. They meant well. They really did. She used to think so.
People hadn’t always been a headache. They used to be, in truth, her favorite beings. That was a long time ago. Now, she was tired. She hated this headache.
When she was a freckled girl at eight, her father took her to the National park. When she was a lanky adolescent of twelve, her aunty taught her how to dance.
When she became a pregnant teenager as a result of being a wild child, her mother hugged her amidst tears, even though she didn’t know who the father was.
At twenty-eight and her ring finger bare, she was an available female. She knew. How could she not? Her friends said so. Daily. And they always had just the right man.
The neighbour that was always checking up on her. The pastor that was always eager to know why she wasn’t in church. The brother always playing ‘daddy role’.
She couldn’t understand why people refused to mind their own business. They be all over her, she can’t even breath in clean, fresh, and free oxygen.
She was suffocating. What do they want, huh? She kept on asking herself over and over again. Some days, she wanted to slap sense into their seemingly empty brains.
She never put her nose where it didn’t belong. But, people? Oh, they were perfect at that! They couldn’t stay a minute without poking theirs right in her face.
She had always been on her own. She tried to prevent this headache as much as she could, but it just kept recurring. She wanted her loner days, her ‘her’ days.
She dreamt of days when she would do her own thing, without people taking notice. Those days when she would be in perfect control of her life.
She kept on wishing that people would just leave her alone. She kept on blocking out this headache. She screamed at people. She was harsh, very harsh, until one day…
She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. It was no use. The headache was gone. She no longer felt that pain shooting behind her eyes. She was free.
Was she really free, she asked herself.
Suddenly, she realized she was alone. The phone no longer rang unceasingly. Her doorbell no longer rang repeatedly. Suddenly.