“ How often can you be hurt by something?
 As long as you still love it. ”
***
— Joel — 
I had woken up that morning feeling utterly numb, I found myself wondering why until I remembered. 
“ Joel. ” I raised my head up and immediately, I saw her alarms go off in my head. 
“ Aunt what are you — ” My words were cut off when she covered my mouth with her filthy hands. 
“ Remember our deal of you always being there to satisfy me whenever I need to be? ” Her tone was vicious and utterly convincing. But I wasn’t going to give in to her, not after what she’d done to me. 
“ No, I didn’t promise you anything. ”
“ Oh… ”
“ Should I make a police report then? ” I winced at her words, the punishment for sexual was seven years imprisonment and I knew without any doubt that I wasn’t ready for that.
  “ Let’s get on with it, Shall we? ”
“ Please don’t — ” I begged, as always. But she got the upper hand and there I was surrendering to her will like I have always done. It’s been twelve years, yet nothing has changed. 
I was still that weakling, who had no power of his own despite being one year past adulthood. 
How cruel was that?
“ If you were more cooperative, you would have enjoyed this better than I did. ” She hissed, putting back on her nightdress and finally exiting my room. 
I remained naked under the blanket in the still-dark room, feeling as broken as ever. 
I suddenly wish I could pray. 
I miss my childhood innocence and how I could pray about anything and everything. 
I wished I still believed in God as much as I had done in my childhood, but I didn’t. 
The shame of the act blurred my vision and almost immediately a question sprang up from within me, “ What would Cecile think of this? ” 
I found it surprising how much I cared about her thoughts, which shouldn’t be a surprise really because, she’d been the only one that has shown any interest in my life after Jemmy. 
“ Would she still want to be friends with me if she ever finds out about this? ” That simple question haunted me more than I had ever imagined it would. 
Cos, when did I start caring about people’s feelings apart from Jemmy’s?
When?
***
Tick, tick, tick. 
The clock struck twelve and I was reminded of the fact that I hadn't spoken to Joel in 48 hours. 
By now, the longing had become so deep and the worst part is that I now know something must have happened. 
Especially when I recall my conversation with Stella and Essy earlier. 
“ He’d never missed school, Cecile. ” 
Essy added, “ School had always been important to him, most especially because punctuality was also a criterion for him to keep his scholarship. ”
Those words had never ceased to make my heart ache. 
“ Where does he live? ” I’d asked out of desperation only to be met with the words, “ We’ve got no idea. ”
How could no one know that? How? 
The more I thought about it, the more the longing intensified. 
Unable to control myself, I picked up my journal and wrote on it. 
“ I miss you. ” Those three words, though short, were quite thought-provoking and provoked varieties of emotions within me. 
It reminded me so much of the last time I'd written that. 
  “ I will miss you, Cel. ” I’d said at my sister’s burial ground, just a few days after she’d given up the ghost. 
Then, I had no idea about just how much I would miss her. 
“ I miss you… ” I’d sometimes written with tear-filled eyes. At other times, I'd written while tears dropped from my eyes to my journal till It became completely soaked. 
 I had believed I would never go through that again, but here I was going through just that. 
“ Where are you, Joel? ” I thought with tear-filled eyes. 
I wanted very much to believe that he was fine, sick, maybe. 
But it shouldn’t be that serious.
But how can I do that when my heart breaks at the mere thought of him? 
“ What could be wrong? ” I searched my brain for answers that weren’t originally imputed there. 
He’d looked and acted completely normal when we’d last spoken, right?
So what then could be wrong? 
“ What do you do when you miss someone so badly, Cel? ” I’d once asked my twin.
“ I paint. ” She’d waved her ink-stained fingers proudly in front of me.
“ Painting is what I breathe for, so whenever I feel down or depressed. I ran back to it. ”
“ You are a writer, Cecile. A writer writes, so when you feel overwhelmed. Simply pick up your pen and bleed. ”
I wiped out the tears that fell out of the corner of my eyes at the memory.
  My fingers shook a little as I held the fountain pen in my hand.
Joel,
Why does my heart ache so much
at the thought of you?
I feel like a drunkard,
being starved of wine. 
My fingers paused as self-doubt began to set in. “ I can’t do it, Cel. I can’t. ”
“ Why can’t you? ”
“ I am a writer and not a poet. ” I shook my head sideways in denial as if she was in the room with me. 
“ There are no rules to poetry, Cec. Just bleed. ” 
“ Just bleed. ” The words rang in my head a few more times before I finally got the courage to pick back up the pen. 
I think of the moments,
We’d spent time together.
Those seemingly insignificant
Moments now feel so priceless.
Should I have cherished them
More than I did? 
Should I have paid more attention
to every detail about you?
Should I have read more into 
Every expression on your face?
If I had, would I have understood
Why is this happening?
I miss you, Joel.
I miss you so much
That it hurts. 
It makes me wonder when you
Became a drug, 
I feel so addicted to it. 
It feels like a part of me is
Missing. 
I miss you.
I dropped the pen as I permitted the tears to flow, “ I miss you, Joel… ” I said in between sobs, somehow wondering why I missed him so much. 
“ Please be fine, Joel… ”
“ Please… ”
***
A/N: What do you think, guys?