Prologue
Hello.
My name is Delilah Eshaq Seif Masud...
And I suffered with depression and addiction for my final year of highschool. No one knew, because I like to say that I hid it relatively well. My interest in psychological studies led me to my school psychologist who pointed out that my strange behavior was brought about by the difficulties of my childhood.
It’s rather embarrassing to mention it so out in the open but… I’ve never had the best luck in regards to friendships. I was always left alone at the end of each; either they had left me, or the continuously changing living situations of my family tore us apart. Most of the time, it was the first one. I will admit, I may not be the funnest, more lively person out there, but I personally think I’m decent company. For most of them, I guess I wasn’t good enough.
Anyway, my depression escalated from moderate to major when my father moved us back to Qasra, our hometown. It’s a small village three hours outside of Cairo, Egypt’s capital. The only friends I had upon beginning my final year of high school there were my two cousins: Rana and Karim. They’re a pair of twins that are a year older than me. We’re still in the same grade, thanks to my brilliant answer on the single-question entry exam for school in Egypt.
Rana is, or was, probably the closest friend I had at home, until the boy she liked broke her heart and she was no longer excited to see me everyday. My guess is that she learned to associate the image of me to all the stories she would always spill onto me. Hamed (the boy she’d liked since her first years in elementary until her high school) ripped us apart, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
Karim is fine. We don’t talk much unless he has someone to warn me about or offered to walk me home after our late night classes because the streets weren’t safe enough. That was all.
I hated my days in Qasra. They were long, hot, and lonely. It was like torture having to go to class everyday with nobody to sit with or talk to. I despised every second of it.... until I met him.
He was the boy who people either feared or hated. With his sarcastic tone and quick tongue, nobody could stand against him. And that cocky smirk of his whenever he knew he was right --because he was always right.
I liked him before I hated him. From the glances I always spared when we went down on vacation. It took a year for him to meet my eyes.
But he only did it once, so I didn’t think he cared much.
He was still confident and rude, but... attractive?
The boy who changed my feelings for Egypt.
Esam Mostafa Ahmed Omar.
