Written by Mohbaby…


I slapped my left palm on my forehead as my phone gently slipped off my other palm. My mouth fell open in shock. I felt my chest constricting with immense pain that left me almost gasping for air.

I widened my eyes as the thought of what my sister had just told me on phone rushed to me like a cold bucket of water. I pulled up my black V- neck flay gown and used the rim to dab away the beads of sweat on my forehead.

“Gosh!, This isn’t happening!” I said dryly to myself. It always tore at my insides whenever my younger sister, Mide called my number either from a call center or if luck managed to smile on her, called using that stupid Igbo woman’s number secretly.
“It hurts so much!” I scoffed and bit my lips while trying to hold in my sobs but the salty substance mocked me as it ended up silently running down my face, revealing the sincerity of my feelings.

I went to the water dispenser and filled myself a cup of water to calm down my nerves. I had had enough of sobbing like I was in a mantra.

“Why would dad beat Ademide with hanger and belt because of that old Yam eater and witch from Cross-river he calls a wife? Why must it be today when Middy is meant to be celebrating her birthday joyfully?” I wheezed painfully, leaning back on the cream painted wall which was stained at some areas with brown, the shade the colour of powder, dirty fingers and oily hair.  I closed my eyes as I wallowed in what Mide had said to me. The latter had explained things to me and I really felt the pain in her voice. Mide had explained how Mrs Chinyere(Who I and my naughty sister called ‘Chinwere’) had instructed her to wash the dirty dishes and clothes of herself and her lazy daughters outside under the rain and her children had also wrapped a dead rat and a dead lizard inside a Colourful nylon bag for her as birthday presents and placed it on her bed.

I widened my eyes, almost choking on air when my little Middy explained her ordeal to me. I felt angry waves emanating from my pores. I just hope I would be able to borrow money for my transport down to Lagos by weekend.

‘If only thunder could strike those assholes’ I muttered under my breathe. The fury in my eyes was clearer than water.
Mide had sounded terribly hurt and down when she spoke with me minutes ago. Its so sad death had to claim mum away from us during an accident on her way back to Lagos from Abuja. We had been faced with hardship and torture ever since my dad remarried barely six months after my mom’s death. 

I plopped on the medium sized bed and shifted the books on it, staring at the rotating ceiling and cobwebs which had carefully positioned itself at the edge of the walls.

Life was cruel.[Not only cruel but harder than the Sunday-Sunday crossword puzzle in PUNCH newspaper]. How could death take my mother away from me when I was only eighteen years old.I needed her more than ever that period I was slowly growing from a teenager into a woman, or perhaps, a lady. Tears pricked my eyes again as memories of my late mother kept flashing through my shattered mind.
I could remember helping my mother pack her stuffs into a small travelling bag on Saturday. She had hugged me and little Mide, promising us she would be back soon as she was going for a business trip.

Don’t get it twisted, its not like she was a woman who cared about her business than her children. No, she was nothing like that. She was kind, devoted, caring and very innocent. She was slim and petite in nature. She would definitely have passed for a model if she were to be alive. She was fourty one when she died. She had finished her business deal in Abuja and had boarded a vehicle back to Lagos when the fatal accident occurred and all its occupants were burnt beyond recognition.

To Be Continued…

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