Where Sleeping Girls Lie

by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

With Where Sleeping Girls Lie, I write to young girls who feel so much anger, and need desperately for someone or something to tell them their rage is important, and that the capacity to heal from deep wounds is not at all impossible.

“It never looked as terrible as it was and it made her wonder if hell was a pretty place too. Fire and brimstone all right, but hidden in lacy gloves.” —Beloved, Toni Morrison

It was like constantly being haunted by herself, with no reprieve from the ghosts inside her.

Sade felt the panic from earlier rise and fall, floating gently on the surface, daring her to sink.

Sade said simply, as though she were stating something mundane and reasonable. There was nothing mundane or reasonable about death. And yet people seemed to have a habit of doing that around her. Dying.

Don’t make promises that you know won’t be kept. Only a god could make such a promise, and she was as mortal as they came. They were words meant to comfort him. But there was nothing comforting about the stronghold of delusion or false hope.

Death was at first an unwelcome guest and slowly transformed into a bitter companion.

“They say terrible things are done in darkness, but terrible things are also done in a light too blinding for anyone else to look at directly.” —Dear Senthuran, Akwaeke Emezi

Sometimes I’m convinced you have this secret identity and I have no idea who you truly are.”

“That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.” —Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5, William Shakespeare

Sade was tired of goodbyes, but it seemed they had yet to grow tired of her.