It didn’t take long before I remembered how hellish his breath was. My nostrils struggled, hands-free, to close intermittently as droplets of decomposed food materials with a mixture of tobacco and “Nne be a good girl” shot out of his mouth. They were as fluid as his webbed arms, clutching me to the wall. I struggled relentlessly, battling the twined fear of what would go around and uncertainly come around, but most of all, I had begun to sink into the possibility of death being a step ahead. I could die in many ways, especially looking at the many steps I would be tumbling over or how slowly I begged life into my collapsing lungs.
“You are way too feisty than I imagined, but it is a good thing Nne, because you must give me what is rightfully mine!”. His brows furrowed as he spoke while I continued to fight for breath. “How dare you say that you’re tired? Abi you think say the bride price wey I pay your papa small? You dey ment? Hehehehehehehe” giggling even more loudly as I muscled a nodded no with pleading eyes. My words came close to only coughing as my eyes widened when he started shoving his left hand into my jeans with his right hand still buried in my neck, leaving me wincing in silence and kicking a mixture of air and bones.
Just as I continued to persist, I hit the jackpot that made him cower, moving backwards as he moaned in great pain while I intended to suck as much air as possible whilst hurrying to the stairs.
He suddenly leached onto me and, in swiftness, tumbled down with just one push. “Today, I am the lucky one”, I muttered. I sat and looked at his protruding kneecap. His neck was broken, and his head was stone-cold and bloody; I wondered for milliseconds if his position was well placed to be cremated. I had no fireplace or matches or gas.
This kain miracle no dey tire Jesus!
How can I possibly get rid of this beast without causing a scene?
“Why are you peeping through your door?” she asked with a puzzled, curious look. “Nothing o my dear, I am okay; I was just trying to check if my sister is around. She said she was coming, and you know your voice sounded like hers.”
Even in death, he still troubles me; the very existence of bad luck that begat him still beckons on him even now.
How in the world do I get him cleaned off from the face of this earth? I want him to burn so bad that the devil will only recognize his ashes in hell.
Gasping while moving my legs to stand, the noise of the fall must have caused a scare, and I needed to be sure that concerned neighbours were not zealous for another gist. As I limped to the door, my sprained ankle and potato palms sparked recurring memories…
Flashbacks…
“Now, Ejiro, come here! Why did you push the hands of the pastor’s wife away from your worldly skirt, or did you think you would get away with your rudeness?”
“I was just trying to tell her it wasn’t right to pull my skirt, especially in public. She embarrassed…”
“Oh, shut up, will you! Shut your dirty mouth! How dare you disrespect a woman of God? Don’t you know that the Bible says that children should obey their parents in the Lord, and so whatever respect is given to me as your father should also be given to your spiritual parents?”
“Daddy, that woman wanted to strip me naked in public; she was dragging my skirt down and calling me a heath…”
I felt the wave of his hand land on my cheeks; it was like he printed his hands on my face and proceeded to print more as I struggled to guard my cheeks.
“You are a bastard because the Bible says that any child who resists correction is a bastard and not a son”. He said, landing some more blows as he reached for an abandoned cable by the console and whipped more weeping out of me.
“I am sorry, Sir; it will not happen again!” but my screaming and apologies fell on deaf ears. Amaka had to break the locks, pulling me out of Father’s grip and, in the process, receiving some lashes as well. Oluchi begged him not to kill me as my thin, pale body could no longer hold the weight of his beatings.
“Your sisters have begged me, so you better be very careful; next time, I will beat you ehn flies will start patching on your body”.
I nodded obediently; then he continued speaking.
“You should have been stripped naked because, as a Child of God, you should be obedient. How can you use Jesus’ money to buy worldly skirts, you this Ogbanje?” he knocked my head as he spoke.
I had always wished to live far from home and his church, but at that very moment, I wished him dead as well. The God I read about in the Bible wasn’t this wicked; even though my confusion grew daily as to why he let me live with my father or why I was even born at all into his family, I was constantly reminded of how broken the world is, and how worse it could have gotten.
After crawling to safety, I sat on my butt with my hands and legs raised high, uncovering my underwear; Father instructed that I do not move a single inch; there were several savagery strokes for every move. Putting an arm or leg to the ground would come with more strokes than I imagined…
Back to Reality…
I shivered out of my memories when I felt a light breeze by my right ear, and as I looked back, my heart started beating faster than a rat in a mouse trap. It was the wind swinging the wooden door softly as if someone was hiding in the corner.
“God abeg! Somebody must have been standing all along. What in the world is wrong with this door?”
As I quickly made my way to the door, I heard the fast-paced steps of someone rushing up the stairs; I leaned closer to the door to be sure it wasn’t a “concerned neighbour” and was relieved when I heard her voice echoing loudly through the stairs. It was Onome, and it was her usual “tattle-taling”; she was on the phone giggling with someone whose voice seemed to echo from the phone. I slightly peeped through the hallway just to be sure the coast was clear, but there was nothing to worry about since she must not have had the slightest clue and was engrossed. My heart skipped in bits when she suddenly stopped by the door.
“Ejiro, kedu ka mere? Are you okay?”
“Khoff khak khak! Yes o, why?”
“Ehen, okay, how is that your fine husband now? e dey for house make I just say hi?”
“No need!”
She was about to put her leg through when I slammed the door shut on her face, pushing the weight of my body forward as if to dive into an invisible swimming pool, then crashed to the floor, falling on my face.
“Ahan, Ke ki mere? What did I do? I go tell your husband, e neva beat you finish because you too dey swell like puff-puff…”
I heaved a sigh of temporal relief and was thankful to only hear her ranting and cursing through the hallway.
The only Kewe she would be talking to was in the Spirit, and I still needed to dispose of the body. I tried to pick up myself when I noticed my thighs were covered in dark purple patches; these were not the regular patches from hives; they were so sore, but not just that, I felt a rush of red down my thighs; I laughed hysterically, muttering –
“This one that I already look like a rainbow; I might as well just hang in the clouds for all I care”.
I sat my bruised butt on the floor and hastily wiped the whitish substance on my tummy; it looked like spilt condensed milk. Suddenly, I saw a flash of light coming from under the bed; it was my Nokia 3310; on the next call, I remembered in a flash that Aunty Stephanie was to be at my apartment by 10:20 pm, and it was already 10:15 pm.
Goosebumps ran through my body like I was in a pool of ice. I found myself limping to the kitchen, and with shaky hands, I grabbed a pack of waste-bin bags. As I held the bag tightly, I found myself whimpering, and with blurry eyes, I limped my way to the body.
Aunt Stephanie was calling again; this time, my phone blared out Asa’s Jailer –
“Aunty, Kedu, good evening, Ma; you can turn right; my house is in Oluyole Courts on the 5th floor”.
She was already a street away as I hung up, so the fastest thing I could think of was to bag the damn body before it was smoked out. So, I wrapped and wrapped as much as I could and looked through my kitchen window to see if she was around; I could see flickers of light from where I stood. It took split seconds to come up with an actual plan finally, and when I had finally executed it, Aunt Stephanie was already ringing my doorbell ceaselessly.
“I have been knocking since, ahan! Is that how to welcome your Aunty?”
“Aunty, I’m sorry. Kedu! How was your journey?”
“It was well, thank you, my daughter. How na!”.
“Aunty I am fine o, wetin you wan chop?”
“Just give me water. My journey was long, and I need to rest; how is your husband?” she said, panting in exhaustion as she slumped on the coach.
“Okay, Ma, Kewe is fine; he went on a business trip,” I said, repeatedly rubbing my palm on my jeans as I limped to get the water.
“Okay, biko tell him I asked of him when he comes, and why is your house so scattered? Did a burglar come? And why are you limping and looking haggard?” she asked quizzingly, as if to read my mind in haste.
“No, o, I was looking for a document, then I slipped and fell. Aunty, today has been very busy; working remotely is not easy at all, but don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“Tor, Ndo, sorry ehn, you need to be mindful of your health o, everything no be work, try dey rest sometimes, you hear?”
“I will Ma”, holding back my watery eyes.
It took only 30 minutes after taking her to the guest room before she was fast asleep. I rushed back to the kitchen window, wrapping him unsuspiciously in taped trash bags. He was right inside the big trashcan of the flats, and I had to rest on the fact that the garbage truck would come the next morning to pick up the trash; our street is usually bustling, so it did make an excellent strategy, at least I’ll be safe knowing that the Nigerian Police are short of equipment even to take this seriously.
After my bath, I slumped on the couch; I had not even had time to cry. I think the problem was my confusion about what or who to cry for. Was I supposed to cry about my regained freedom? Or wail over his death? Or cry about the fact that I became a murderer some hours ago? As I recalled every detail, my eyes twitched and stung, swelling with tears. It was already 12:05 a.m., and I spent an hour soaked up in water, trying to wash every sin of the day, even the one done to me. My only sense of innocence was my tears; it told a story I would never tell. My head kept replaying –
Murderer, Slayer, Killer, your sins will eventually find you out; just wait!
Was my mind playing tricks on me? How could it speak of me that way?
But he deserved it; that bastard almost killed me; look at me; I already feel like a shadow of myself; how dare he do this to me.
I tossed and turned, replaying the scenes over and again. They were suddenly cut short by the screams I heard outside; I could vividly hear someone say it was a human finger.
I swallowed the remaining spittle my throat could take. I’ll need a good lawyer.
Leave a Reply