666.

"Who's Lord are you naming,

When you start to break things,

It's my only life you hold,

And when you left me waiting,

I thought,

Did you do it in the name of God?"

- Mustafa, Name of God.

---

It's been 6 years.

But today it feels like it was 6 minutes ago,

6 seconds since the shouts registered in my mind, since the banging of doors and screaming of my mother registered in my mind.

It's been 6 times I tried to kill myself by then.

6 ways I googled, "how do I end it all, why can't I take it anymore?"

You know, in the Bible, they talk about the mark of the beast. This big bad guy. And his numbers? 666. But nowhere in Revelations does it say that Lucifer himself would be clad in a white suit and purple tie, tearing up as his bride walked down the aisle. The same bride that considered canceling that God-forsaken wedding on 24th of April. The same bride that went against her better judgement. The same bride I call my mother. I felt complete that day, you know? Finally, I would be "normal". Normal family, normal girl, normal wedding.

"Both our eyes are red, but you're high and I'm crying"

Both of us are shouting, but you're drunk, having fun, and I'm pleading for silence. I hold myself in this bed, 6 years later, still the same damaged shell of a girl. Those flashbacks still have me tearing up. 6 years and still I cry. 6 years and your face sparks up a panic in my brain. 6 years. Isn't it supposed to get better with time?

"I'm jealous of a kid who learned to count till 10 last week" - Nicole, 2021.

That kid you see every week. I'm still jealous of him. But not because you see him, not because you love him, not because you choose him. I'm jealous of him because he doesn't have the memories, he doesn't hold the scars. He will never get to experience that moment, curled up in a corner, screaming, crying, world crumbling. I'm jealous of him now because he'll never get to see the version of you that my memory can't seem to erase. I'm jealous of him because he doesn't need to write into the void every time he wants to speak to you, because he's too traumatized to call you, spit in your face. I'm jealous of him because to him you'll always be one call away. You'll always be his father, in all the ways you could never be mine.