A Story of Silent Deaths…

***Cathra Sambili*** ___Embu___

She walked into her room and her smile faded again. Tears flooded her eyes; her heart felt heavy – the weight on her shoulder crushing her. She was no longer the face everyone else saw when she was outside, she was the torn, broken angel with her demons screaming to devour her. Her greatest mistake,  falling in love. That first kiss under the moonlight being the beginning of her downfall. Man, if only she knew. But they say if wishes were horses beggars would ride, what more of a beggar wasn’t she? She was a beggar of love, a beggar of affection, a patient of loneliness who craved attention, who craved and yearned for love.

All her life she had had her perfect picture of her love life, her mates thought her to be very cautious but she was being a good girl, no love triangles in high school because those were only boys and she would find her mate in campus, that’s what she had believed, wasn’t it supposed to be like that?

Her heart she had nested in a well – built cage that nothing could break the barrier. She was her own guard and dutifully she stood outside it her hand armed with her weapon lest a thief wanted to steal her heart away. She never really got to understand where she had failed, every night in her bed her pillow drenched in tears. She recounted it over and over again trying to look for the loophole; that small cliché that had robbed her off her control of her own heart. Had she fallen asleep while on guard? Had she been too ignorant to let this happen while she watched! Sadly, the loophole she never found adding to her torture and torment, she was guilty of her own downfall and the reality dawned on her every morning killing her inside, devouring her every bit. One stupid string of hope she held onto so tightly when she woke up feeling positive was that maybe the thief had come during the day, when she was not entitled to keeping watch, maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault, just maybe.


‘ I promise to be here for you babe, till forever.’ He sweetly whispered into her ears as he wrapped her in his warm embrace.  His muscles tightened holding her; goose bumps suddenly covered his skin damn it – just how beautiful she looked in her calm self; her hair smoothened back, her cheeks slightly reddish from his caress, her lips tiny with a kind of smile as that of the sun hiding behind a thick cover of cloud, not seen but not to say didn’t exist. What was he doing? Was this real? Was he ready for this?

The questions were coming back again and screw him if he was going to answer them now, flow with the tide that is what he was going to do.

Maybe he was being a coward but in the morning he would dress up, walk with his head held high after all who could see through his conscience? Exactly, no one! One grave danger he was making: making assumptions that they were riding with the tide because the lady who rested her head on his bare chest breathed with every rising of his chest and its fall.  He was her life so to say. Morning had dawned and it was time to go, no one should see him here so he quickly pulled his trousers back on, put his sweater on and tiptoed away with one last glance at the lady who lay on her bed, a smile not so genuine finding its way out. Alone on that bed fantasies flooded her head: the perfect couple, a home, children until death do us apart.


A long day it has been, lectures and more lectures. She tosses off her shoes and feels her cold feet numb from standing and walking from one lecture room to another. Damn it she almost forgot, he was coming. She shyly smiles to herself wondering just when she turned to his wife. She jokingly looks at her finger stupidly expecting to see a ring – even an engagement one would do. See her life she doesn’t even have a promise ring but her tiny fingers with cute nails; which she notices have been beautifully done, she should call her artist and thank him again.

It’s thirty minutes past nine, he isn’t here yet, no text no call. Okay, give it time he wouldn’t miss to show up.

Her stomach aches probably from the acids. She hasn’t eaten because she has been waiting for him for the past one hour, it is now ten thirty, the food she cooked with love all cold and she just lost her urge to eat. He forgot? “He’ll have an explanation in the morning,” she says to herself and goes to bed once again the fears hidden behind her love staring at her from all corners of her room, shut your eyes beautiful…

It has been three months since he had texted her and said he had moved on. He had ended it with a mere text! Wasn’t she worth an explanation? Was she just some piece of a torn rug used at the door to dust dirty, smelly feet on their way in and out? Her room at one corner which held her mirror was empty, she had crushed it to pieces – her image disgusted her. A tiny piece she had kept though. Today the lecturer had warned them of love stories which had turned sour. The country was reeling in shock after Ivy a student had been hacked by her lover in open daylight. Why was everyone so pissed about it? Maybe I should leave a note for them which I hope they understand and don’t care if they will judge me or not good for them if they won’t because I won’t let them rest in peace.

Let me give them something to read tomorrow, another love story gone sour. This broken mirror will serve me right, a broken angel another broken life. My emblem.

Leave your comments below


Author Guest

More posts by Guest

Join the discussion 4 Comments

Leave a Reply