Into the Abyss.

When I open my eyes a few hours later, I am surprised to see a missed call. “That’s weird. I didn’t wake up to my phone ringing?” The call is from a private number so I am not too fazed. And besides, it seems that whomever it was has left a voice mail for me. When I dial the number to retrieve said message however, the walls of my psyche begin to shake, feeling as though they are going to close in on me like the collapsing foundations of an unsteady building, whilst the ground beneath me appears to vanish from my sense of gravity altogether. The voice on the other end, his voice, the same voice in which I climaxed to only hours before, shatters my perspective of reality, instantly. “Shaniquah. Yeah, it is Zabian Ryder here. Don’t you ever, come to my house again!” Just like a scene in which you would expect to see in a movie, the phone falls from that of my hand and bounces onto the floor.

I cannot cope anymore. The constant reckoning of my heart. The chastising of my very soul. The psychological war taking place inside of my mind that which bends me over and royally fucks me up the arse whenever I submit into the belief that this situation, is magical. Whenever I cast that of my better judgement aside and make excuses for the way in which this has evolved. “It is unique,” I tell myself, “It may not be ideal but it is our journey, and that within and of itself, makes it perfect. You have no clue as to why he is doing this Shaniquah, so do not be so quick to reject it. A love as pure as ours has no boundaries or limits, so just embrace it, Shaniquah!” All of the reasons pertaining to why I keep believing in him vanish in this moment. The moment when I hear his voice mail. Every time in which I break down that of my walls and offer him another piece of my soul, he destroys me. Every time that I allow myself to believe the very best of him, he proves me wrong. And, the most fucked aspect, despite all of this, if he walked through my front door right now, I would still, openly welcome, all of him.

Over the next few days, I find myself seeking comfort through that of dating sites. Well, they are not so much dating sites in as much as they are more of a, comefuckme.com, type of forum! The desperation behind that of my actions has come to the conclusion that the only way in which I am going to put an end to all of this, is to give my body to somebody else. I am honest with those whom I talk to about that which my intentions are on the site. However, I am sceptical as to whether half of those whom I am interacting with are even a real profile. Whist they mention certain things in which only he would know, and with the understanding that I would essentially reference these comments to him, I wonder if some of these profiles are fake? There-fore meaning, that it is in actual fact him, on the other end of the conversation. There is one profile in which I intuit is real, however. And so, we begin to discuss a possible meet.

The next thing I know, there is a knock at my door. It is the police. “Miss Shaniquah Freedom?” They ask. I inhale deeply, knowing where this encounter is headed, “Yes.” I acknowledge. One of the uniformed men proceed to question me, “We are just here in regards to a note you left on a Mr Zabian Ryder’s car?” I softly shake my head thinking, “You’re here about the note? Seriously? That was the other week!” I look at the officers and say, “It’s all just been a massive misunderstanding. He can rest assured, that I will never try to contact him again!” Then, the other officer looks at me dead in the eyes, leans in forward and says, “Oh you can contact him.” Then, he smiles. What the fuck? Dumfounded, my jaw drops to the ground and as I am struggling to pick it back up off of the floor, I say nothing else. The officer whom originally spoke then asks, “Are you ok?” Glaring at them both, I allow the silence to permeate the space between us. “I will be!” I sarcastically reply. “Is that all, officers?” I continue, emphasising the fact that these people have adhered to an oath to serve and protect the citizens of this country, including that of myself! “Yes. Have a great day, Shaniquah.” They respond. “Have a great day? How does fuck you sound!” Well, this is what I want to say but instead I simply nod and reply with just as much sarcasm, “You create a beautiful day, too. Wont you both?” And I shut my front door with a vigorous force. This has gone too far! If I have held any doubts about meeting this stranger for a fuck, they instantly disappear in this moment!

Over the next couple of days, I continue to chat to the man from the site. I also during this time, receive two more phone calls from that of the police department. Both whilst I am asleep or unable to answer that of my phone. Both phone calls are from a sergeant whom leaves a number for me to return the call and yet every time in which I attempt to call the number back, there is no answer. Every single time in which I try to call it, the number simply rings out. I ring the police station itself, to where nobody has a clue to that which I am referring to. More fucking games in an attempt to send me into a state of fear and completely fuck with my head, I assume? I do not succumb, however. The situation only causes me to want to follow through with that of my intention, even more so now. And, I even have some MDMA left over from the other month, so to assist with my fears of offering that of my vessel to a complete stranger. “I am determined, and nothing in this fucking universe is going to stop me, Zabian! Leave me the fuck alone!” I scream into that of my phone.

The following day is a Friday. I have organised to meet with this gentleman this evening. If I am not already dealing with enough, that which infiltrates itself into my reality next, is off the fucking charts. There is another knock at my door. I answer it. A lady rudely introduces herself from the Department of Mental Health. “I am just here about an incident in relation to Zabian Ryder.” My face holds no attempt to disguise that of my feelings as I roll my eyes at her. “Yes,” I say, now utterly fed up with that of the harassment. “Do you need to talk to someone?” She enquires. I look at her blankly and respond, “No. I’m fine.” She then hands me a card and offers for me to utilise the number of the Mental Health Department if I need to. “Thanks,” I sarcastically reply, “And tell him I said thanks too, wont you!” She glares at me, then proceeds to walk away. Within half an hour there is another knock at my door. It is the same lady except this time, she has two ambulance officers with her. “We need you to come with us, Shaniquah.” They explain. “What?” I panic. “I just want to be left alone, please?” I beg. “You don’t need to be sacred,” they continue, “We just need you to come to the hospital to have a quick chat to one of the doctors.” Fearing that if I reject that of their request, I will only endeavour to escalate the situation, I agree to go. “Can I come home and be left in peace if I do this?” I ask as my voice shakes. “I’m sure if you are cooperative that shouldn’t be an issue.” One of them responds. “We just need to make sure that you are ok.” Unlike that of the mental health worker, the ambulance officers are really quite lovely and seem genuine in that of their concern for me. ”Ok,” I adhere to that of their request, “Let’s go.”

I arrive at the Emergency Department in the ambulance and I am taken to a private bay. The nurses here are beautiful and treat me with the utmost respect. Finally, the psychiatrist comes to see me. I am well mannered, cooperative and answer all of his questions in regards to my mental health. He informs me that he will be back soon, during which time I begin typing into my Google search engine, letting Zabian know exactly what I think of him and that which he is doing to me. “You cannot stop this, Zabian. I am going to end this, tonight! You cannot keep me hostage here forever and one way or another, I am going to meet this guy and fuck him until I bleed!” I am furious! However, with the help of my heavenly guides, I am managing to keep myself in a state of poise and composure. When the doctor returns, he rudely states that the staff will need to take my belongings from me now. “What? What do you mean?” I cry. He then says only but one sentence. “Zabian Ryder, Shaniquah. You have been stalking Zabian Ryder!” I nearly fall off of the fucking bed. “I’m the stalker? You have no fucking idea, mate!” I think to myself, aware that anything in which I say from here forward could potentially worsen the situation. “Please,” I beg, “I have already said that I will not contact him again?” The doctor simply ignores me, though. “Where am I going?” I plead. Without answering me or looking back, he simply walks away.

By now I am an emotional wreck. With tears pouring from that of my eyes I ask the nurse, “Why are they taking me?” She looks at me with an empathetic gesture and shakes her head, “I don’t know, sweety,” she replies. “Please,” I beg her, “I have been accommodating to their requests. I have cooperated and been polite, respectful and honest, haven’t I?” I frantically search that of her facial expression for reassurance. She simply nods her head. “So why are they taking me?” Unable to comprehend that of the situation herself, she offers me a profound look of compassion which reads, “I wish I could help you.” I look at her, broken and confused. “Thankyou.” I say, genuinely feeling that of her own bewilderment. Before too long, a male nurse comes to get me. As we are walking down the corridor, the corridor in which feels as though it is the longest corridor in the entirety of existence, I once again plead with him, “Why are you taking me? What did I do?” He ignores me, repeatedly, until finally he mumbles underneath that of his breath, “Because you were going to run.” I halter in my ability to take another step, to which he grabs my arm and forces me to keep moving. I am so beyond baffled that I do not even know what to say. However, I manage to sob, “That is a lie. I was cooperative. Ask the nurse, please? She will tell you. I made no attempt to leave, at all. Please?” Pushing me through that of the closed mental ward door, he continues to ignore the authentic desperation behind that my pleas and escorts me to a room, shutting the door behind me. Standing there alone and in a state of complete shock, my freedom ripped away from me and my entire world crumbling around the solidity of my very existence, I am trapped. An innocent prisoner in this hospital, convicted for a crime that which is not, mine.

ThankYOU for taking the time to read that of my story, BeYOUtiful Soul. If It captivated You and You would like to explore more of Shaniquah's Journey, let me Know by tapping on the Heart-shaped button and showing me some Love, then head over to my Personal profile to delve Deeper InTo that of Shaniquah's World. If You Feel Called to offer Your Support to my Journey as a Writer, please feel free to tap on the tip button, also. All proceeds Are very much Valued and Appreciated, and Will go toward the Creation of my first novel. Infinite Love and Gratitude, Lollie.

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