"Why is Omar sleeping here," said aunty Fatima.
I heard a gasp near me and I turned around only to meet Mohammed's pale face. He was shocked and somehow panicked, afraid of something, What? I don't know.
I cleared my throat, not knowing what to say. Would I tell the truth? I am afraid her reaction wouldn't be good.
For me, alcohol is my biggest enemy. I loathed the effect it had on people; it engraved terrible memories within me, making my infamous abuser lose control, so for sure a mother would never like to see her son in such a state.
However, it is always the best option people turn into when he has no solutions at hand, or for pleasure.
Would Omar drink just for a bit of fun? I doubt it. His eyes tell.
