A free writing exercise:
You could say I was thinking of other things when I shampooed my hair blue, and two glasses of red wine didn’t help my concentration. “It ain’t half bad! I just need to lift my hair. Voila! I might be able to blend in! But can I do it? Should I do it?” I stepped away from the mirror, mumbling to myself, thinking that I needed to pour myself more of the wine I kept hidden behind the mirror. “God, give me courage”, I told the transformed girl in the reflection as I reached for the wine bottle.
“Rasha, hurry up; we can’t stay here any longer.”
I ignored the calling, not because I didn’t understand the severity of the situation but because I hadn’t mustered the courage to do what needed to be done yet. I grabbed the bottle by the neck, bit and spat the cork, and chugged the rest of the wine. “Hurry up, wine, I don’t have time for you either,” I told myself as my father pushed the bathroom door violently and hit me in the back, spoiling my gulps, my mood, and my clothes.
“Rasha, what in the name of God are you doing?”
“What do you think I was doing?”
“What have you done to your hair? And where is your scarf?”
“Do I have to explain that now? I changed its colour.”
“I can see that, but why have you done that? Why now? We don’t have time for your… for such silly things.”
“…”
“God! Have you been drinking? This is not how I raised you. We have had this discussion before. This is the worst time to be drunk.”
“I thought that the wine could help.”
“Help with what? Have you lost your mind? We must leave RIGHT NOW!”
“I know! Why do you think so little of me? I have done it before. I know exactly what needs to be done.”
“The only thing that you need to do is pack your stuff and listen to me, like always.”
“No.”
“What do you mean? didn’t you pack?”
“This is not what I meant.”
“For god’s sake, not now, Rasha. I don’t have time to deal with you.”
“I mean, no, I am not following your lead this time. I am old enough to make my own decisions.”
“You are only eighteen, drunk and with blue hair. You obviously don’t know what you are talking about. I am not going to repeat myself, Rasha. Be a good girl and follow me. We must leave the city before dawn.”
“I told you I am not doing this. I will stay here this time. I will not leave my friends and home again. I am sick of all this travelling. I am sick of running away.”
“Rasha, let us go to a safe place first, then we can discuss your plans. I must ensure that your brother and sister are away and safe. I must protect them. I must protect you.”
“This is why I have done all of that: the drinking, the hair. I have changed. I don’t need your protection anymore. I have had enough of it.”
I didn’t want to give my newly found drunk resolution a chance to waiver, so I pushed my dad and left the bathroom, put on my khaki jacket, picked up my backpack, then bumped into my mom down on the stairs towards the living room.
“Mom! I am leaving. I am not going to follow father anymore.”
“I know.”
“How could you…?”
“You are my daughter.”
“Sorry, mom.”
“You don’t have to apologise. I would have done the same.”
“I can’t do it all over again. I want to protect you…like my father always says but not in that way. Not in his way.”
“I know, sweetie.”
“Ten years ago, we were forced to leave Aleppo, our home. I will not go through that pain again. This time I refuse to run away, and I refuse to stand idle. This time I can resist. I have grown stronger. Kharkiv is my new home, and I am not giving up on it. I am old enough to volunteer. If it comes to fighting, I will fight. And if it comes to bleeding, I will bleed. I belong here, mom. I have learned their language, and I have changed my looks. They will accept me now. They have to. They need me. They need to know that they shouldn’t run away. They have to take charge of their own destiny. That’s why I can no longer remain hidden. And I can no longer keep the veil”.
“I am proud of you, Rasha”. I reached for her hand, as she uttered these words, and kissed it, then darted towards the door ignoring the shouts of my father.
I ran away, leaving my past behind me. I left it sobbing and choking by a heavy air of uncertainty in my throat and an abyss of murky dread in my limbs that the gulps of wine didn’t manage to wash away. I went out into the dark, heading towards the unknown, unguarded and unveiled, deep into Shevchenkivskyi district when the sirens broke away the silence of the cold dawn. It is war!
The Book Of Life 