Height of tolerance

The bell rang, I had cold feet about the next activities. It was the end of school hours at Mary Rosary School. The next activities were food, siesta, and prep.

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Going back to the hostel was like a crawl to my skin—not because I hated sleeping but because of my bunkmate.

Our hostel was a two-story building; my hostel was on the last floor, with a total of six halls in one building. Each hall was filled with bunks ranging from 20 to 24 iron bunks.

We were all mixed up with all the classes. I was in Jss3 then. My bunkmate was in the same class as me.

I was reserved and loved my own space, which is the definition of an introvert. I hated arguments; I would rather walk away than stand and exchange words.

“Take this rubbish out of here," her voice resonated in the quiet hall. That was my bunkmate. She stays down while I stay up. I stayed up just to prevent people or friends from coming to my bed to scatter every bit or stain my white bedsheet.

I ignored her and continued removing my clothes to get my one hour of sleep.

“I'm talking to you, Jeclyn," she yelled at me. I kept my cool and continued what I was doing, acting like nobody spoke.

Her pain was that my bed cover removed strands from it, and it fell directly on her bed.

I knew how it felt to come to sleep and see so many strands of whitish substances on the bed. I apologized multiple times for those notwithstanding her insult, which I ignored.

I was remorseful about the discomfort I caused her, but it felt like my apologies meant nothing to her.

The embarrassment was great, especially when she opened her mouth to rain lots of insults at me. We became the center of attention for everyone in the hostel.

I undressed and laid back on my bed.

"Jeclyn!" she yelled my name again. Lying on my bed prompted more of the whitish substances to fall on her body this time.

She stood to her feet while I shut my eyes, facing towards the window.

“I told you to change this; buy another one," she yelled while I pretended to be asleep.

There was no doubt that her attitudes boiled deep within me, but then I was tired of the whole drama and feeling sober. She didn't need a quiet person. An apology wasn't going to tan her.

I had promised her that the next midterm break, I was going to change it, but she was on my neck to change it.

“Can't you hear me? Remove this thing. It is inconveniencing me," she kept yelling. Speaking to her was just a waste of time. I knew I was about to lose it anytime soon, but still, I kept my cool till the bell rang for prep.

I stood up, pulled my clothes in, and left for class. I usually admire others who have a good relationship with their bunkmate, but mine was different. It was an everyday argument and yelling. I and my bunkmate were talking, and it was just her reminding me to change my bedcover, but not in a cool manner, but on top of her voice with insults, which drew more attention.

I swallowed it up, but it wasn't going to be long; it's been three weeks already since I endured her rants.

“You're just so stupid; while do you keep making me shout on top of my voice?" I shut my eyes momentarily and exhaled heavily. Here we go again—another day for another rant.

I walked away, ignoring her, but this time she did something that got a lump on my throat, and I just couldn't keep my cool any more.

She dragged my clothes roughly, I turned, and my hands went over her face. It wasn't her voice this time; it was my voice that was heard.

“Did you just slap me?" She asked, holding her cheek. I was filled with anger; even my breath was heavy, my eyes were bloodshot, and my expression was that of a mad bull. I have had enough of her nonsense, and not anymore.

She placed a hand over her face and looked at me with etched eyebrows.

“Betty I told you I was going to change that, but you kept ranting in my ears.” I moved closer to her while she moved backwards. I could see fear in her eyes.

"You thought I couldn't slap you. Just because I'm quiet doesn't mean I will allow you to treat me like shit; try it next time; I will tear you apart.” She remained calm. I saw her mouth open and close, but she couldn't say anything.

She was shocked at my outburst. I was patient, waiting for her to retaliate, but she didn't. The others in the room who watched on got disappointed. The show was over already, even before it started.

Betty didn't come up with her ranting as usual until we went for a midterm break. She just needed to be put in her place.