Your Defeated Jealousy

by - August 19, 2017



Chronicles of Paulinus


The foot of the door scratched on the uneven floor, screeched, as you bashed into the room fuming with over-nursed anger. When your fierce stare met hers, she didn't seem cowed. Something about the way she held your gaze. Livid. It made your heart cringe a bit. Receding two steps, you calmly heeled the door closed. Was she losing it? You'd fume at the way her artificial lashes flapped – up and down; a tremor of anger quivering on her lips. She was now peering at your injuries: the bandages around your head and left arm. Your head still drummed relentlessly. 


You've been lynched after you'd tried pulling her down from that devil's podium where you saw her flaunting her nudity to a frenzied audience. She must have read your message for the umpteenth time; it was hasty and direct: "You detest me. A stripper? I can't believe this!" You'd typed it on your phone, changed 'you're evil' to 'I detest you', it would ram down well into her, you thought as you squirmed in discomfort in the hospital bed. She never came around.

When her lashes drooped, you thought her rigid ego had sagged. You wished that she'd show just a fragment of remorse; but no, not Chichi. She raised her eyes again, swiftly. You stared into them expecting liquid eyes glittering with sorry tears; but it was incisive: "What were you doing at the strippers Inn?" she taunted, "you got what you deserved." An unbridled rage came and tugged so hard at your nerves, your muscles became taut as words froze in your throat. You'd to revoke your long-held mantra: never to hit a girl. 

"Stop! stop! stop!" Darlington held your fist on the air, "hahbah even with your bandages?!" 

She groaned and pulled away from your straddled legs, spitting gory spittle and cursing relentlessly. She glowered at you; called you a coward, a woman beater, anuohia. Now you knew what's next: time to look for your own lounge on campus. Her stripping work would sustain you no longer.

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