Beyond Toxic Bonds
The bed felt more like a coffin, trapping her body as her arms and legs coiled in like a mummy, unable to stretch or move.
“Why can’t my night ever be restful?” she thought to herself, a heavy frown on her face as she looked at sleeping Aisha, whose peaceful expression was a huge difference to her frustration.
The night flashed by instantly, leaving her to wonder if she had slept at all. Her energy was drained; perhaps she never slept after all.
Just then, Aisha emerged from the bathroom, music blaring from her MP3 player.
“Boom! Boom!! Bang!!! Ohhh!!!!”
The sounds blasted in Dimma’s ears as energetic Aisha sang along at the top of her lungs, less concerned about the feelings of others.
Dimma watched in silence, her morning getting worse than her night. She had often wished to talk to Aisha about setting boundaries and behaving more considerately, but the more she tried, the more her lips sealed shut, like a zipper. She wasn’t perfect at speaking her mind, and she knew it was something she had to learn.
Still gazing at Aisha, she searched beyond for the admiration she once had for her, but it had all vanished, replaced with disdain. She decided to seek solace on the house balcony, so she stepped outside.
On the balcony, she wrapped herself in a blanket to protect herself from the harmattan cold, breathing in the dry air, mixed with dust and sand. She loved this season because it brought a beautiful landscape, especially the white fog.
Dimma reflected on herself, feeling stuck in a home that seemed more like a prison. She realized that she had often fallen prey to exploiters, though she wasn’t quick enough to recognize that Aisha was one of them. She remembered Aisha as a charismatic and friendly person, but now she questioned if it had all been an act.
Her memory drifted to seven months ago when she had received a call from Aisha, who was in desperate need of accommodation.
Despite her reservations, she went out of her comfort zone to help Aisha, driven by her kind and compassionate nature. Unfortunately, the favorable expectations she had for Aisha were the opposite.
Aisha’s words, still lingering in her mind: “I’m desperate for your help…please…from the bottom of my heart…save me…”
Those words had once sounded sincere to Dimma, but now they seem nothing but deceptive. She shook her head, shunning the manipulative pleas.
Did she make a mistake in letting Aisha into her home? Would she be paid evil for her kindness? She thought.
Each day passed with the heavy burden of Aisha’s inconveniences as a freeloader. Dimma now detested her home. The thought of returning home from school often brought on a headache, nausea, or even a racing heartbeat. She wondered how long she would continue to live that way.
One late morning, Dimma hurried to meet her lecture at school, but, unfortunately, she stepped on an earring post, instantly ruining her mood.
“Ouch! Oh my God! My leg!” she exclaimed loudly, as she groaned in pain. Her foot was injured. As she picked up the earring, she realized it was Aisha’s.
Furious, she muttered to herself, “What a stupid motherfucker.”
She had never known Aisha to be an organized person. Furthermore, Aisha had never considered her excessive luggage to be space-cramping in the entire room.
She walked towards the dustbin to discard the earring, but, on second thought, she withdrew her steps and tossed it onto the table beside her. As she walked outdoors, she did so like a broken-legged victim, not realizing that she had been hissing. Then, she made up her mind to speak up to Aisha.
“Have you forgotten about your house hunting, which we discussed before?” Dimma asked, her breath catching in her throat that night. “Don’t you think it’ll be tiring for me to take care of you for a long time?”
Aisha scoffed. “What a stupid question! I thought you were a wimp. You really got the nerve, girl.”
Dimma stared blankly at Aisha, hoping she hadn’t hurt her feelings. She stuttered, trying to apologize for an unknown offense.
“Forgive…me…I…I…”
Aisha smirked. “It’s not like I’ve been here for five years or something. What’s your problem? Besides, you’re an earthly angel, so you should deal with it. Give me a break.”
As silent as still water, Dimma lay down, and her eyes rained down silent streams. Her mind centered on ways to confront Aisha.
As she slept that night, in her dreams, she attempted the confrontation, but it went wrong. Aisha had strangled her, and it jolted her awake. She gasped heavily for breath.
The dream made her realize she was no match for Aisha, despite the urge to confront her. Perhaps, attempting it would only lead to harm.
The evening sun glowed on Dimma as she slowly walked back home from the library. She had spent hours lost in books, trying to distract herself from the discomfort of her dream.
As she drew closer to her home, she noticed the sound of laughter and music growing louder. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes narrowed as she scanned the house windows and the balcony, searching for clues about the commotion.
Grabbing the doorknob, she pushed the door open, and her eyes flashed with shock.
The space had been transformed into a party scene, with strangers dancing and drinking. The smell of alcohol stirred Dimma’s stomach, causing nausea in her, and she was further irritated by a pornographic scene playing on the TV.
No deity was needed to tell Dimma that it was Aisha’s doing. Her eyes searched the room for Aisha when someone suddenly bumped into her from behind.
“Watch it, you mother…” Dimma paused, her words trailing off as she realized it was her foe.
“Wimpy, it’s you!” Aisha exclaimed. “Do you care to join us?”
The laughter of the strangers, mixed with mockery and bullying, pierced Dimma’s heart. Meanwhile, she glared at Aisha, her inner voice urging her to cause a scene. But what if it goes wrong like in her dream?
Aisha grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t. Well, I asked the old woman next door to give you a place to rest for the night. You’re grateful, right?”
Dimma clutched her handbag tightly, glaring at Aisha as she jogged back to her nasty friends, leaving her standing motionless.
Dimma swallowed, maintaining her dignity, and quietly walked away. She headed to the woman’s door, showing her respect, but it was not reciprocated.
The old woman let her in without saying a word. However, Mrs. Kate fed her, gave her new clothes, and provided a room to sleep in. Though Dimma expected questions, she didn’t get any, which amazed her. She had hoped Aisha hadn’t spoken badly about her to the elderly woman.
The next morning, the pleasant aroma of chicken stew woke Dimma, something ringing in her heart. It was a joyful sensation.
“You’re not a wimp,” Mrs. Kate said in a calm, motherly tone.
Dimma paused mid-motion while washing the dishes. It was the first time Mrs. Kate had spoken to her. She watched as Mrs. Kate turned towards her, gently holding her hands. Her smile shone warmly, and it seemed to absorb every heavy burden that had been weighing on Dimma.
“I say you’re not a wimp,” Mrs. Kate repeated, her smile brighter than before. “Don’t let their opinions define you. Let go of the negativity around you, and you’ll see yourself in a greater light. You have every right to say no to people and to right the wrongs in your life.”
Dimma couldn’t help but shed tears. She felt exposed, overwhelmed that her burden had been noticed by a woman she hadn’t truly seen before.
Mrs. Kate had been quietly observing her from her window, witnessing how her once vibrant and energetic self had drastically changed into a weary shadow. She saw the changes in Dimma’s sunken eyes and her crushed spirit.
The old woman’s eyes filled with assurance. “Remember, you have the power to choose how you react to negativity. Don’t let others define your worth. You are stronger than you think.”
Staying with Mrs Kate had made Dimma happier than she had been in a long time. She had temporarily forgotten the feelings of sadness and loneliness. She had also learned that Mrs. Kate had gone through similar experiences, and how she overcame her exploiters was inspiring.
As Dimma left for her home, she wore a beaming smile, clutching neatly packed food containers in her hand, a kind gesture from Mrs. Kate to her. But the smile on her face vanished the moment she stepped into her house, her foot slipping on a puddle of spilled alcohol. Her room was messy and had an awful smell.
“Daughters of bitches,” she hissed loudly, starting to clean up without hesitation.
Afterward, she sat in her room, staring at the wall as she replayed her conversation with Mrs. Kate in her mind. She felt her spirit restored, but it was quickly quenched by doubts and fears.
What if she stood up to Aisha and things got worse? What if she was wrong to confront her? Should she continue to dwell in her emotional prison?
Dimma’s mind was flooded with questions. Taking a deep breath, she began journaling, pouring out her thoughts and emotions in her diary.
A few moments later, Aisha returned, excited to see the tidied room. She muttered a quick ‘thanks’ before exiting to the inner room.
“I’m not a wimp,” Dimma said, looking up from her phone screen at Aisha, who stopped in her tracks.
Her tone was gentle but firm.
“Despite my good intentions towards you, you played me and took advantage of me. You lied to me from the start because you saw me as easy prey. I inconvenienced myself for your damn sake and endured every nasty thing about you, yet you weren’t considerate.”
Aisha stared in surprise, wondering when the timid mouse had transformed into a fearless challenger of the cat. Then, she smirked.
“You’re no fun, girl. Cut me some slack, okay?” Aisha took a step forward and paused. “By the way, if you’re upset with me for anything, I apologize,” she said with a hiss.
“Aisha,” Dimma called out, her voice a bit louder than before. Her eyes showed fearlessness. “You have one week to move out of my house.”
Aisha’s eyes narrowed as she burst into laughter, amused by what she thought was a ridiculous demand from her usually timid roommate. Tears welled up in her eyes from the laughter, but her amusement was short-lived.
Noticing the adamant look on Dimma’s face, Aisha’s grin vanished. She opened her mouth to claim she had nowhere else to go, but Dimma cut her off before she could speak.
“I’m sick and tired of you.” Dimma snapped. “Having you around is the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I want you out. Find a place, anywhere, and leave. I don’t care if you end up on the streets.” She concluded in a louder tone, before turning and walking away, leaving Aisha astonished and speechless.
Days turned into a week, and Aisha had sat on Dimma’s words, brushing off her outburst as a result of boredom or a desperate cry for attention.
But, shockingly, Aisha returned home to find all her belongings scattered outside, with Dimma standing tall at the entrance, dressed in an all-black ensemble and a bat resting on her right shoulder. Her body language commanded power and control, asserting dominance over her home.
Aisha stood frozen and speechless, realizing too late that she had awakened a sleeping giant, and the consequences would be perilous. Swiftly, she dropped to her knees and apologized profusely, but her words fell on deaf ears and met with nothing but a silent rebuke.
“The quiet and calm are not weak; we are strong individuals who choose to maintain peace around others. Unfortunately, it’s saddening to see people like you misinterpret this calm conduct as weakness, viewing us as prey to be taken advantage of.”
She paused, then sighed deeply. “My actions indicate that you’ve crossed the line, so bear the consequences.”
Aisha’s face turned red with anger, her fingers clenching the sand on the ground, as Dimma stood up to her.
For a moment, the two women locked eyes, the air uncomfortably acting as a referee. Aisha’s expression slowly changed into a scowl.
“You devil! You’ve finally shown your true colors, but I’ll show you what a lion does to the ear of a rabbit!”
Dimma sighed in frustration, forcibly pulling out her dark shades, a faint annoyance crossing her face, though her eyes remained gentle and composed.
“You’re such an ingrate, Aisha,” Dimma said.
Aisha spat and stormed out of the house, dragging her belongings behind her. She couldn’t let Dimma see her tears; she had always believed that tears were for weaklings.
As Dimma watched her leave, she felt a mix of relief, guilt, and fear. She took a deep breath, trying to process what had just happened.
Despite regaining her serenity, Dimma was still disturbed by Aisha’s relentless, hateful text messages, which arrived daily. However, she chose to retaliate by ignoring them, refusing to let them get to her.
Dimma also pondered Mrs. Kate’s words the second time they met, whom suggested her actions towards Aisha had been extreme. Mrs. Kate’s parting words lingered in her mind: “Your kind isn’t predictable.”
Meanwhile, Dimma didn’t interpret the words as criticism, despite Mrs. Kate’s rigid tone and expression. Instead, she viewed them as a compliment, a satisfying one.
Above all, the most important thing to Dimma was that she had regained her lost Garden of Eden.
A few months later, in the quiet room, Dimma was engrossed in her Pilates workout. But the peace was interrupted by a sudden call from Maria, her coursemate.
Maria’s voice cracked with desperation as she pleaded, “Save me, please. I’m stranded right now. Can you accommodate me for a little while?”
Dimma hesitated, holding the phone, a sense of unease overwhelming her at the request. She could almost hear Aisha’s voice in Maria’s, which evoked a feeling of disgust within her. Was she ready to step into another toxic situation?
“Maria, am I a wimp to you, too?” she asked in a cautious tone.
She didn’t expect to hear an answer, and continued, “Well, I wish I could help, but my place is cramped with cousins. I’m really sorry. Find someone else.” Her tone was laced with sympathy.
As soon as the call ended, Dimma smiled to herself, her eyes darting around her empty house. Then, she nodded in appreciation of the mighty serenity that surrounded her, her inner voice whispering, “Well done.”