Dissociate Nalia's Resolve

By Sandra Nekh

Sixteen-year-old Kenyan Nalia knows nothing other than the life given to her by the powerful Avakian House ran by businessman Mica Avakian. Nalia knows a luxurious life fueled by flesh trade and drug trafficking. She has reaped the rewards of this lifestyle for years and is content, but a darkness avails itself to her. Nalia runs from her home and faces new challenges in pursuit of freedom and happiness. She is haunted by memories of a dark past that threatens her almost immaculate present. She reacts to this fear by finding comfort in Kyura, a seventeen-year-old who has his own demons to tame. Both Nalia and Kyura are at a precipice. Drugs and alcohol indulgence, unfulfilled promises and a quest for change are the catalysts to the direction they take. A choice has to be made; impending doom or inviolable sanctity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Nekh
• Release date: Sep 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370748570

Sandra Nekh

I am Sandra, a girl from a little village in Africa. I knew I had a love for words and stories when I picked up my first book on Red Indians when I was about 6/7 Years. I cant remember the name of the book but there was something about this other world that drove me insane. IT haunted my dreams and soon I could see myself in this new world. Because my world was very limited I realized that I could travel through the words. That was how I found myself preferring to read quietly in a corner than play outside with the rest. I was about 8/9 when I picked up a pen to write. Since then I have written but its only until 2015 that I decided to publish with Lulu. I write fiction and scrips. I also work in the Film industry and Design. I enjoy Digital art drawing. reading online comics, Anime and music.

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Dissociate Nalia’s Resolve

By Sandra Nekh

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © by 2016 Sandra Nekh

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.

Sandra Nekh

P.O. Box 51651, 00100

Nairobi, Kenya.

[e-mail]

Edited by Dan Kamau

First Edition: April 2016

Self-Published Via Lulu Press, Inc.

ISBN: 978-1-329-96359-7

Second Edition: August 2017

Self-published Independently

Dedication

To God, and the ‘Convergence’.

Contents

Dissociate Nalia’s Resolve

Copyright

Dedication

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Epilogue

Note from the Author

True Nairobi

Prologue

Prologue

Nandi lay on the floor. He did not understand what was happening. The cold tile represented all that he felt. A chill ran down his back. A sharp pain rang at the back of his head. His back also hurt. The pain was slowly making himself remember. Nandi was a big man. Built to ram through things and not the other way round. He did not imagine in his wildest dreams that Mica would run him through and actually succeed at it. Nandi hit the wall, the back of his head was the first point of impact. The second his upper back, enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

The sound of a gunshot rent the walls of the hallway they were in. The haze in his mind was lifted as Nandi’s whole body jolted with the sound of the shot. His mouth slightly open, he winced as he took a deep calming breath. Mica fired again. This shot made Nandi look at him, wondering how he was still alive, alive enough to fire a gun.

Mica who lay beside him faced the other direction oblivious of Nandi. Blood oozed down the side of his face towards Nandi, blinding him of his peripheral sight. He never cared enough to look with his good eye and find out if Nandi was awake or passed out. Mica fired continuous shots at the expanse of the hallway away from Nandi.

I confess, I killed Amir and Blackie… I shot at Mica… I confess. I am done! Nandi confessed to a higher power, I saved her life, I’m done with this. Mia Tia… am coming home.

It was time to run! Whatever happened after that moment was none of his business. Nalia would have to take care of Nalia. Nandi crawled quickly and quietly away, he moved on fours like a freak of nature before he maneuvered himself upward still in motion. He disappeared in a run into a room at the end of the hallway. The lights in the hallway flickered. Nandi barely heard automatic rifles go off behind him over the ringing in his ears.

Chapter One

The night lights represented Kyura’s time. He hated the sun and all it stood for. It represented illumination of all his flaws, presented him a rebel. Was he really one? Really now, was he? Circumstance pushed him there and he saw it fit never to correct. Furthermore, was that not what a rebel would do?

Kyura sat in a night bus, night time his friend, always favouring him. The bus was huge, a sixty something sitter. It was mostly empty. In the bus were five souls; Kyura, the driver, an old man, a middle aged woman and a ghost from her past.

He adjusted his headsets tighter over his ears. The music from the device attempting to block out the sound of the engine as the old bus rattled away, the sounds made by the engine a cry in its struggled ascent up a hill on the Nanyuki Nairobi highway.

"You will find it in yourself,

To forgive that which I did

You will find it in yourself

To mend this broken bridge…"

The lyrics soothed him to an almost slumber, nursing his hangover like a fine wet nurse. He shut his eyes a moment turning his head to find a comfortable position to rest. Then he opened his eyes realizing that it would be impossible to actually sleep. His gaze falling on the cascading environs outside the window. Soon he was counting sheep, the sheep he saw were actually hallucinations. Black sheep, over the horizon, playing tricks on him. Making leaps in the air, making him smile. He tapped a finger on the glass window pocking the little one in the gut, she stumbled and fell. He laughed a little. Kyura moved as he strained to see the others in the space between the seat and the window as the sheep fell behind. The bus raged on. He adjusted himself, a cool sky a new distraction well welcome.

Kyura was a striking almost-man, just on the edge, about to turn eighteen. He was a fine amalgam. Asian African. He had an overzealous Japanese entrepreneur to thank for his looks. His skin an even blend of more parts cream than coffee, a tone just a little lighter than caramel. His hair pitch dark and with a few resilient curls courtesy of his mother’s share in his gene pool. Kyura sat wide in his seat, easily occupying more than his assigned seat, spilling over into the second seat. He sat legs apart, a trait he had developed over time. His body ripped in lean muscle well matched with his boyish charming face. His broad shoulders set masculine as a result of a good amount of time spent working out. He was larger than average, sat tightly in the space between his seat and the one before him; he was well above six-foot height inconveniently bundled in the tiny space. He was however too high to experience the discomfort of the ride all together.

***

Nalia stood at the bus stop. It was cold. Her body shuddered in the night wind like a leaf. She took breaths through her mouth because ones through her nose hurt her sinuses. She pulled her hands closer about her lean body. Her body clad in only a pair of jean short shorts and tank top, ‘Avakian Girl’ branded on her lower back. She moved one of her hands and rubbed her wrist over the tattoo severally as though to erase it. Her hand then returned to join the other in offering a semblance of warmth. She took a deep breath letting it out through her mouth letting the misty exhale down her chest in an effort to warm herself.

Headlights hit her. Her face irradiated in the exceedingly bright lights. Nalia was gorgeous, an even toned golden goddess with dark curls in an even mane haloing about her head. Her eyebrows a fine addition to defining her facial features. She had brilliant brown eyes, a little wide set, but well triangulated with a little nose and a plump set of pink lips. She was one to look at twice.

Headlights hit her as a car sped towards her raging like an inferno. Then the honking began, she turned away her back arching a little as an empty bottle of soda was thrown at her. She folded smaller as the car drove off, its air riddled in a mean laugh.

Gah! she exclaimed as she walked a few steps trying to decide what to do. Her bare foot hit a rock, she curled her toes reacting to the invasion.

Nalia stood in the dark again. Alone. All about her a shy moon attempted to give light but failed miserably. She put her hand in the back pocket of her short’s pocket. She pulled out a couple of pills and stared them down a moment.

‘You would rather be dead that get caught!’ The words rang in her head over and over again. The strain and emotion behind the words making her shudder harder in fear. The uncertainty of the future that she thrived for proving a fate worse than enduring the life she was running from so zealously. She took a deep breath, and with the next, put the pills in her hand in her mouth and swallowed hard. Nalia’s forlorn exterior was exhibiting a whirlwind of emotions; the most dominant; fear, pain and uncertainty. She was a mess. She just stood there coming to terms with what she had just done when headlights hit her from the furthest corner of her eyes.

The lights came closer, by the sound of the vehicle, Nalia could tell that it was large. A bus.

Finally, may be a little late…

The bus came to a sturdy halt with the door right in front of her. It popped open and an old man crippled out, he threw her a curious look then his eyes fell on a plastic digital watch on his right wrist. It read a quarter to midnight. The date June 26th on the top left corner of the screen. He walked away shaking his head in disapproval at her. She chose not to mind the judgement. She had a few minutes before the drug began to act. She was not sure exactly what she had done, but she knew this much, it was bad.

Nalia dragged her body on feeble limbs into the bus, she took no note of the individuals within the bus. She vaguely saw the driver’s hand held out to her for her fare. She reached into her left pocket pulled out a note and handed it to the driver. She cared little for her change. She walked leaning on the seats towards the back of the bus.

The other female passenger in the bus eyed Nalia like she had a horn on her head, like she was definitive proof of the anti-Christ. She looked like she was in her late twenties. She had on a suit that looked expensive but was actually rather cheap. She had a briefcase in hand and a back pack resting on the seat next to her. She looked unrested; her lower lashes shadowed with bags, her lips pale and hair tied in a strict pony. She looked haunted, sat too straight to be taking the night bus. After shooting Nalia an unforgettable glare, she went on haunting the space before her, her gaze resting on the open road ahead.

The bus was moving at a constant struggle, the engine raving uncontrollably through its ascent. Nalia wanted the seat behind the last passenger. She craved the privacy of no eyes staring her down. She pushed on.

Kyura looked up. His eyes caught something in the peripheral, something stunning. Something timeless. A beautiful hallucination. The best kind that never walked away, the kind that stayed in view. The kind that was coming right at him.

The bus driver realized that he was on the wrong gear. It suddenly hit him that he needed the second gear and not the fourth to ascend up the hill, he stopped accelerating and pressed the clutch instead changing the gear. The transition which was not smooth caused the vehicle to jerk sharply making Nalia lose balance. Her grip on the chair not strong enough to hold her, she fell forward hitting her head on one of the seats knocking herself out cold.

Kyura had felt the bus jerk. His quick reflexes saved his forehead from contact with the handle bar before him, but he saw his hallucination go down hard. He opened his eyes wider, sweet descent to slumber pulling him like gravity. A few rude expletives rent the air from the other passengers. No one in the bus took notice of the girl that went down, apart from Kyura, and worse he thought that she was a figment of his imagination. A shinny white unicorn.

Chapter Two

Shoes. A man’s pride is his shoes. In most cases though, well in Kyura’s case he was a young man trying to learn what it means to have self-pride, find the best way to show that he got it. Kyura valued his shoes especially because the shoes were in fact Jordans; Jordan 8 Chrome 2015! That he paid a cool $242 plus shipping for. Kyura valued those shoes.

They cost him a pretty penny. So, did he mind when a strange little unicorn plastered them with her dinner, we may never actually know; note that Kyura was in a world of his own courtesy of his new friend Bru.

Kyura had pulled what he would say if asked, his pretty unicorn off the floor of the bus and helped her sit next to him in his seat. She was half awake, even took a moment to analyze his face. It was unfair since most of her face was hidden behind her mane of curls. All he saw was a pair of gorgeous full lips and the tip of an elegant nose. He liked what he saw thus far.

But… if only I could see the…

As though in slow motion, Kyura ran a hand on the side of her face to try and see her face better but she slowly slid until her face rested on his lap. He stared in shock wondering if any other person in the bus was aware of their little dance of wolf and sheep. He was not sure who was prey though, he really did not know where his moral standpoint was at that moment.

Her mane called out to him, it was nothing like a unicorn’s, and he decided that she was ‘Girl 1’. His hand tentatively approached until it was on her head. He rubbed his fingers on the hair, loving the way the soft curls felt in his hand. He let his fingers get all up in there. He pulled on a few strands bundled in waves, let the hair spring back when he let it go, he smiled, reaching in for another draw. She did not move. He could see her body shift periodically as she breathed. He reveled in their space; appreciating their dance. He continued to play with his newest distraction.

She moaned something, incoherent but still utterly blissful, for him of course. He lowered his head to listen closely. She spoke again, in her low toned sexy incoherencies. He smiled thanking the God-of-all-teenage-boys for having his back that night.

Her head moved, he pulled his hand back, waited as time somehow froze. Then he heard the heave. She pushed forward in the small space between him and the seat before him, and projectile vomited between his legs. Kyura pushed back into the seat his arms raised as he realized that he was going nowhere. He could not bear the thought of vomit on his Jordans, but he sat there and took it like a man.

Kyura was glad that his legs were apart, though he could feel the wetness on the inner-seam of his pant legs, and on the top trim of his shoes.

He waited until she was done. Then she rested her head on his lap like nothing had happened and fell back to sleep. Kyura sat there shell shocked, unable to move an inch when a sign caught his eye on the side of the road. It read ‘Welcome to Nairobi County.’

Kyura took a deep breath accepting his defeat. He shook his head from side to side defeated smile gracing his face.

Last stop young man, the driver’s voice interrupted Kyura thoughts.

O….okay sir. Kyura looked up. The other passengers were off the bus already. He looked outside to see a few taxies parked by the bus terminus. He had a decision to make. Leave the girl to the real wolves, or go with her and figure out the rest later. He picked the latter. All he had to do was get her somewhere safe. How hard could that be?

Hey we need to get off. He whispered at the girl, she moaned something as incoherent as all her mumbling since they had met. She was no help to him. His high a few notches down, he deemed himself most fit to make the sanest decisions that night. He helped her up and out of the bus and into a taxi.

The drive to Karen suburb South West of Nairobi city center was one for the books. The taxi driver a middle aged man, educated but doomed to work in servitude by Kenyan corrupt successes and the country’s unstable economy. He had his brain cells tickled enough though as he was trying to understand the dynamics of the couple riding in his taxi that night.

From time to time, Kyura’s virtue and vices pulled at each other in a tag that would determine the fate of the girl. Every time he told himself that she was not his concern, he found a way to recalibrate his thoughts in her favour.

Njoroge is my name. The taxi driver said, suddenly breaking the silence. As he stole a peek at Kyura through the rear-view mirror. Kyura looked outside the car, barely registering Njoroge’s words.

I see you have a pickle there. Njoroge went on,

I find myself in a pickle you mean, Kyura whispered coldly, he was in no mood for baseless conversation. His gaze maintained to the outside of the car.

Kyura had sat back right, ‘Girl 1’ to his left. She lay half splayed on his lap. She snoozed every time she was jolted awake by the bumps or the lights or his hand moving. He came to learn to keep his hand very still so as not to wake her. He sat there deep in thought of what to do.

It would be hard for him to walk into his home and say something to the effect of, ‘Look, I brought a human home! A female!’ His father would utter a few expletives and he would reply in a manner close to this, ‘Yes father, I know that I