Must Read: The Diary… Part 23
A Story written by Slickest…
I struggled furiously as they approached me, their hands pushed forward like they wanted to tear me to pieces, they got closer with their dragging feet and I in turn had no where to go and nothing to do but scream my heart out, I closed my eyes so I don’t see any part of me suffer dissection….”…take it easy…easy..you’re okay…easy…” Was the next voice I heard, I felt touches all over my body and I took the courage to open my eyes… I was surrounded by three nurses and a man who appeared to be a doctor, Papa Sunday was standing far away beside my feet, I raised my head a little and found out I was on a bed…a hospital bed. I was on a boxer short with nothing else on, some parts of my chest and laps were plastered, there was a sharp pain from the back of my head which brought back the last memory of how I was thrown against the wall, I reached to touch it with one of my fingers when I realised my head had been scraped clean, I raised my head devastated looking at Papa Sunday like he did it but the man in white who’s perfectly fit to be called the doctor answered my question before I asked, “…the cut was deep and we had to reach its base, I didn’t want to just scrape some and leave the rest so you don’t look like a thug….just had to make it a clean treatment…we still have some questions to ask you though before we can let Mr.Nnamdi here leave but you have to be a in better condition…I am Eugene…doctor Eugene…” the doctor said, I relaxed on the bed whilst Papa Sunday whom I never knew his real name is Mr.Nnamdi also took a seat on the visitors’ chair beside me.
Little Sunday was asleep on his father’s laps which I didn’t detest, he was awake all night and nature had taken its course on him, I looked at his father who looked at me like he had a thousand and one questions to ask me. “I searched your phone and got one of your relative’s number, to be precise I put a call through to your mother informing her that you were involved in a minor accident and had been admitted… She told me she’ll be on her way…” Papa Sunday narrated the development on the situation, I didn’t know what else to say after I blamed him of alerting my mother, I told him there were better alternatives but not my mother, I knew things were getting abysmal and way beyond my control… The situation now is on autopilot, I hope and only hope I make it out alive
Papa Sunday was still staring at me while I suffered a severe migraine, there was silence governing both of us as we didn’t know what to discuss, I wasn’t also in the mood to discuss anything with him because I already had a responsibility of nurturing my head ache, “….did u kill my wife?…” He broke the silence looking straight in to my eyes, shock gripped me all over at the sudden question, I wasn’t surprised he did ask but I was shocked he suspected me, I denied it of course and also spoke to him aggressively so he would back off a little bit, my strategy worked as he didn’t push it any further, obviously the reason why he was detained was so he could give a reasonable explanation of what happened to me in his apartment. I noticed my diary in the bag and my mobile phone on a stool beside my bed, my heart pounded as I prayed no one had glanced through its pages, I removed the diary from the bag with my pen placed in the last page where I stopped recording, I opened it and started recording with the aim of hiding it under my pillow in the absence of Papa Sunday. I wrote ignoring Papa Sunday who sat beside me, he looked like he wanted to see what I was always writing in the blue covered book every now and then while I paid attention to my memory recovery of how all the past events unfolded.
Papa Sunday left the enormous ward where I laid giving me the chance to keep my diary safely without any suspicions, he left little Sunday behind on the bed where he was still in his sound sleep meaning he would be back soonest. I’ll put this under my pillow now.
What a way to end a week and begin a weekend, I laid for an hour just changing sides on the slim bed, I took a look around the ward which harboured different kinds of sick men, some were asleep while others had their eyes wide open, all down with different kinds ailments best known to them. Papa Sunday hasn’t returned from wherever he might have gone but I know for certain he can’t leave his son behind, I’ll just wait for what the next unknown situation brings, am still expecting my mother by the way.
The last one hour was a stone to chew for Papa Sunday but he eventually pulled through, a police man was invited to interrogate the both of us on the incident that happened in Papa Sunday’s apartment, he explained all he saw as it was clear he was asleep and missed out on the action, he kept saying the same thing about him seeing me on the floor bleeding from my head with syringes all over my body, he said little Sunday was also crying which was what woke him up from his sleep, he said he called for help after he saw me unconscious, “…and that’s all I know…” He concluded. The police man must be a rookie to have interrogated us both at the same place, I just told the same story Papa Sunday narrated but on my own path, I told him the syringe bag fell and poured the syringes all over the place, I narrated that in the process of picking them I fell on the pointed syringes and hit my head on the wall.
I put down my statement so did Papa Sunday and that marked the end of the first phase of the investigation, Papa Sunday was free to go but the police told him he would still be needed for more proceedings on the investigation but at later times, Mr Nnamdi dropped his number to show he would always be available to help the police, the officer left leaving I, Papa Sunday and the doctor in the ward, the doctor also wished me well and left the ward, Papa Sunday stood up and held his little son who was already awake, he looked at me and said “…problem dey ooo my brother… big problem… I saw you floating Mr John, something weird is going on because its not normal for you to float in the air….” , he talked in a low tone and walked away with his son. I sat baffled as other patients in the ward stared at me like I was a criminal…
My phone rang displaying a number that wasn’t amidst my contacts, I picked it and it was Eugene’s mother, she lamented on how she discarded Eugene’s idea of staying with me, she spoke ill about me and said she hadn’t heard from her son for two days, she is my aunt so I had to give her some respect because she deserves it, I tried explaining things to her but she made her final statement which was straight and clear, “…look for my son ooo…because I know him well…”. The phone beeped indicating the end of the call, I looked at it and saw the the call duration blinking on the screen, confusion took control of me for a while but I soon snapped out of it, I dropped my phone back on the stool then I noticed someone standing at the entrance of the ward, I raised my head to see who it was…it turned out to be Eugene, he looked at me like he was in pain…he didn’t come any closer but his dusty and tattered blood dripping clothes sent fear through my spine, he held his intestine in his hand while his collar bone shot out from the inside, his head wasn’t standing well on his neck…I couldn’t take my eyes off him, it was then I noticed blood coming out of his eyes, I sat up but I couldn’t feel my legs which means I couldn’t walk….
To Be Continued…
Categories: The Diary