9.

A FACE IN THE CROWD

9.

The first day of Katlego's tutoring finally arrived, and he was punctual, just as he'd promised. I had planned to hide in my room, lost in my painting, avoiding him at all costs. But Prestige had other plans.

She seemed determined to rub it in my face, making me feel like her personal servant. Every now and then, she'd ask Mom to instruct me to fetch something for her and Katlego - water, a fruit squeeze, her notes from her room, or some other trivial thing.

I reluctantly obeyed, trying to avoid Katlego's gaze as I delivered each errand. My heart raced every time I entered the sitting room where they were studying. I'd quickly drop off whatever Prestige requested and hurry back to my sanctuary.

But then, I overheard Katlego's question, his voice tinged with amusement.

"Do you usually order your elder sister around?" he asked Prestige, his tone light but probing.

Prestige giggled, and I could sense her smugness. "Oh, she's just being helpful," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I felt my face flush, humiliation burning within me. Katlego's words struck a nerve; he'd noticed the dynamics between Prestige and me. I wondered what he thought of our situation.

As I retreated to my room, I couldn't shake off the feeling that Katlego saw right through Prestige's manipulation. His words lingered in my mind, making me question why I allowed myself to be treated this way.

The rest of the tutoring session was agonizing. I couldn't focus on my painting, my mind wandering to Katlego's comment and Prestige's triumphant smile. I felt trapped, stuck in this toxic cycle, with Katlego now witnessing it firsthand.

I was lost in my painting, trying to shake off the lingering emotions from Katlego's tutoring session, when Prestige burst into my room like a raging storm.

"Why do you have to make me seem evil around people?" she snapped, her face twisted in anger.

Something inside me snapped. For the first time in ages, I stood up to her.

"Maybe people see you truly for what you are. E.V.I.L," I spelled out, each letter dripping with conviction.

Prestige's eyes widened, shocked by my boldness.

"You think you're so perfect, but you're the evil one!" she shot back. "You manipulated Katlego into thinking I'm mean to you. He said he won't tutor me again if I order you around! Do I order you around?"

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You do order me around, Prestige. Not directly, but you use Mom as a messenger. That's mean."

Prestige's face reddened. "I don't! I just ask Mom to bring me things, and she sends you. You're so sensitive."

I chuckled, dropping my brush to study my sister's defensive expression.

"You're a mean girl, Prestige. Everyone sees it. You may not realize it now, but one day you'll understand how hurtful you've been. And you'll reap the consequences."

Prestige's eyes flashed with anger. "Mommy, Precious is raining curses on me!" she shouted, but when Mom didn't respond, she stormed out of my room to tattle.

I knew I'd ignited a firestorm, but for the first time in ages, I felt alive. Standing up to Prestige was liberating.

.

.

.

Prestige stormed out of my room, leaving me wondering what would unfold next. It didn't take long to find out. Soon, I heard Prestige's dramatic retelling of our confrontation to Mom.

"Mommy, Precious cursed me!" she wailed, exaggerating the truth.

Mom rushed into my room, her expression stern. "Precious, why did you curse your sister?" she asked, not bothering to listen to my side of the story.

I tried to explain, but she cut me off. "Don't make excuses, Precious. Apologize to Prestige right now."

I felt a familiar stinging sensation, like a slap to my soul. Mom's unwavering support for Prestige hurt.

"Mom, you never listen to me," I protested, but she dismissed my words.

"Prestige is your younger sister. You should be setting a good example, not cursing her."

I bit back tears, feeling like an outsider in my own family. Sometimes I wondered if I truly belonged.

Was I really a Sechaba? Or was I adopted? The doubts crept in, but I knew the truth.

I resembled my father, with my dark skin and striking features. Mom's words from years past echoed in my mind.

"I didn't plan for you," she'd said. "You almost took my life during birth."

"The nurses laughed at me because of your dark skin," she'd recounted, her voice laced with resentment.

"Nobody wanted to help me carry you because of how ugly you were," she'd said, the words seared into my memory.

"Bad things always happen around you," she'd whispered, making me feel like a curse.

Her words formed a toxic narrative in my mind: I was unwanted, unloved, and unattractive.

.

.

Exhausted from the emotional turmoil, I mindlessly scrolled through Facebook before bed. That's when I saw the friend request from Tshepo K Bafana. His profile picture was a cartoon illustration, but something about his name sounded friendly.

I accepted his request, and he immediately messaged me: "Hi."

I replied, and our conversation flowed effortlessly. We chatted all night, sharing stories and laughter. I found myself opening up to this stranger in ways I never thought possible.

Tshepo listened attentively, offering words of encouragement. "You don't have to go through this alone," he said.

I poured out my heart, sharing the pain and frustration with Prestige and Mom. Tshepo's empathetic ear was a balm to my soul.

"You know, Precious," he typed, "I don't think you need anyone's validation to feel loved. You have to love yourself first before you can seek it outside."

His words struck a chord. No one had ever told me that before.

"But how do I do that?" I asked, genuinely seeking guidance.

"Start by acknowledging your worth," Tshepo replied. "You are more than your family's opinions. Focus on your strengths, your passions. Practice self-care and self-compassion."

Tshepo's wisdom and kindness calmed my racing thoughts. For the first time in a long while, I felt heard and understood.

As our conversation came to a close, I thanked Tshepo for listening.

"No need to thank me, Precious," he said. "You deserve to be heard. Remember, self-love is the greatest love."

I smiled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Tshepo's words lingered in my mind as I drifted off to sleep, a sense of hope and renewal blossoming within me.