Safiyah sat on the edge of her bed, the worn springs creaking beneath her weight. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan that lazily stirred the heavy air. On her lap rested a simple leather-bound diary, its edges smooth and corners slightly curled from the humidity. It felt foreign in her hands, like an object she had no right to hold, yet couldn't let go of. She stared at its blank pages as if they were a chasm, daring her to leap. The golden letters embossed on the cover gleamed under the faint light filtering through her curtains: My Diary. The words seemed mocking, as if suggesting she had anything worth documenting. It had been Alimah's idea. Safiyah's cousin was one of the few people who still tried to understand her, even when Samiya pushed her away. "Write it down," Alimah had insisted during their last phone call, her voice firm yet gentle. "Sometimes, putting your thoughts on paper helps clear the storm in your mind." A storm? No. Storms were fleeting, dissipating after a burst of rain. Safiyah's mind was a hurricane, relentless and devastating, spinning with memories that tore at her sanity. How could mere words contain the chaos inside her? Yet here she was, pen trembling in herfingers, staring at the untouched page. She hesitated, her heart pounding as if the very act of writing would release the demons she'd tried so hard to suppress. Finally, with a shaky breath, she pressed the pen to the paper and etched out the first words: "
My name is Safiyah, and I don't know who I am anymore." The ink bled into the page, stark against the white, just as her emotions bled through her fragile composure. She stared at the sentence, her vision blurring as tears welled in her eyes. How could such a simple truth feel so monumental? The words had unlocked a floodgate. Memories she had buried deep began to surface, clawing their way back with a vengeance. She was nine years old again, sitting on the living room floor of her uncle's house, her hands clutching a ragged teddy bear. His hands had seemed kind then, his words playful. But over time, his touch lingered too long, his voice took on a sinister edge, and her innocence unraveled thread by thread. Safiyah squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images away, but they were relentless. The weight of it pressed on her chest, threatening to suffocate her. The pen slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the floor. She buried her face in her hands, her silent sobs breaking the stillness of the room. She had never told anyone - not her parents, whose lives were consumed with work and their strained marriage, nor her friends, who seemed so carefree and untouched by the world's darkness. Safiyah had learned to carry her pain alone, a burden so heavy it had bent her spirit into something unrecognizable. "
The diary lay open on her lap, the single sentence staring back at her like a challenge. It was a small crack in the dam, but she knew there was so much more waiting to break free. The question was, did she have the courage to let it out? A knock on her door startled her. She wiped her eyes hastily and closed the diary, slipping it under her pillow. "Come in," she called, her voice barely steady. Her mother poked her head in, a distracted smile on her face. "Dinner's ready," she said. "Come down before it gets cold." Safiyah nodded, forcing a smile. "I'll be there in a minute." As her mother left, the smile fell away. Samiya reached under her pillow and pulled out the diary again. She ran her fingers over the cover, her heart heavy but determined. This was only the beginning. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would write more. For now, she closed the diary with care, as though it held something precious. And in a way, it did. It held the pieces of a girl who was trying to find her way back to Why nobody notice?" she whispered into the silence, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief.