January 31st, 2017.
My mind has become a battlefield. My soul has become a prisoner in the Shell of the boy I once was. Alone and confused. Who was I? Did I ever change? I have become addicted to my pain. This madness. I was feeding it. My insanity has rid my mind of all good forever. There is no hope. I choose not to hope. Hope is a very dangerous phenomenon. It makes you, only to break you in the end. I knew this day would come, where only death remained.
It has been two weeks since I left home. I arrived at St. Anthony of Padua University a week earlier before resumption. I wondered how dad faired. I wondered how he was dealing with the mortgage situation. I wondered how he dealt with his depraved wife. I wondered about a lot of things this morning. And I remember as bright as day the morning I left Lagos for Anambra. Mother did not say good bye. She made no remarks or gestures whatsoever. She only watched as my dad gave me his prayers and she went back to bed. She never wanted in on happiness. Did I have to remind her that Paul was not her only child? Oh! Her brain was toast now, and all that I am is a crude insignia of a memory she had chosen to escape.
I wondered if she still had the sexual vigour she once had. I was still wondering. I wondered how sexually frustrated my dad would be. Perhaps he was jerking off his sexual frustrations on a whore somewhere. Once when Paul and I were kids, we were six or seven, I cannot remember. Life was all sunshine and rainbows. Nothing could go wrong. We were awoken by frantic noises buried in the dark that flushed it’s way through the ajar door of our room. I had been the first to wake. Startled by the noise, I jerked Paul into consciousness. We made our way noiseless, through the passage that led to the dining. Right there on the dining table, dad and mum visible by the warm moonlight that seeped in through the translucent windows. They were lost in a fierce and wild tide of sexual intercourse. They had no idea we were watching. Paul immediately began feeling uncomfortable and hurried away. He tried to take me with him but I resisted. I just stood there, in the passage way, lurking in the shadows of their embrace that was cast by the moonlight. I stood there in awe and wonder. I had no idea what they were doing. From that moment, I wanted what they shared. We were awoken by series of similar noises in the middle of the night after that. Sometimes it came from the kitchen. Sometimes from the stair way. I liked to listen. The frantic noises went on and on and there was no more of it after the accident that claimed Paul’s life.
Michael, my next door neighbour was asking “Did you see the body?” “What body?” I had asked. “The one I saw you dumping into the canal…” he was saying, without any expression. “…it has resurfaced you know?” These were his exact words. And in no time, those words became whispers. Death whispers, that conjured hands whose grip began choking me. The tiny whispers became screams. Screams of my nemesis, catching up with me and he was saying “I saw you that night you know? How could you ever think you would get away with taking her life? How could you?? How could you?? ” There was little air in my lungs now, and I was suffocating. Death was near. But somehow the thought of dying brought Mr peace for a moment. And in a flash of time against reality, I was jerked back to consciousness. I had been dreaming last night. Michael’s words was only a dosage of my dreaded reality, but during the day it became my hell fire. How could you?? How could you?? These words were my only companion today, and like a scar I wore it on my head.
My dad called this morning. He was mad. He was never that mad. He went on to commune of his disappointment on why I had not called him after our last conversation. I listened aimlessly. I had no idea what to say to him. My amnesia episode had gotten the best of whatsoever conversation we had. He continued nagging for six more minutes. I was counting. I was silent. He voiced his concern on why I had not bothered to call after he had informed me of my mother’s miscarriage. She was in the hospital. But it was not because of the miscarriage. She was on suicide watch. She had tried to kill herself by slitting her wrist. I for one did not know she was so resourceful. Dad had found her almost lifeless as she lied bleeding on the bathroom floor. It did not seem so much like bad news to me. Not the suicide. The miscarriage. So they were doing it again. I had always wondered if they would ever get that sexual vigor I had dreamed of having for years. Dad was devastated. He had advised I started showing concern and put up with my mother or I would lose him too. I relayed my regrets and apologies. I was truly and deeply sorry. What would be left of my dad if he lost his wife? What would be left of me if I lost my dad?
I was losing my mind, but I had not lost my motive. My hidden agenda. It needed so desperately to be taken care of. It was as if Vivian could read my mind paces away. She had seen me walking towards the chemistry laboratory and she ran towards me and embraced me. It sent a riveting pain through my spine. It made its way to my head. My head still throbbed from two nights ago. The pain was a living reminder of what I had done. What if someone had seen me? What if the body floats? Do dead bodies float? I kept questioning myself. I was late for chemistry class, it was supposed to be my get away gift card, but somehow it reminded me of Chike Obi. Meters away from the digital library where I had first seen him was only three hundred paces away from the chemistry laboratory. And I would walk that terrain every Tuesday and Saturday for chemistry classes. I have not forgotten my promise to make him pay. Because by the time I am finished with him, I am going to make him wish he had never been born.
From Mrs. Okafor’s Physics class to Doctor Joel’s circus for a biology class. It was a complete joke. For some reason he chose to Crack jokes rather than teach. Perhaps, his talent lost career path. It did not amaze me why everyone laughed their lungs out. They were stupid in all entirety, including Vivian. I was the only sane person in the room. That was not the way I saw myself. It was just the way it is.
That afternoon, we were all hungry and we decided to have lunch at BAMBOO. The school’s most visited canteen and also the most expensive. They were famous for their special delicacy of beans and roasted plantain. I was not one to eat in public but I did not mind. Long as I wasn’t eating the poison Vivian cooks and calls food. Jeff had ran off with Christian. His laboratory partner. I was stuck with Derrick and Vivian. And I sat in thoughtless wonder, uttering nothing while Vivian and Derrick chatted away. Their voices like a distant charter. Nothing they said resonated to me. I wasn’t listening. I was thinking. They had no idea what I had done or what was going on at that very moment. Chike Obi was at an opposite table flanked in the company of three other boys. He was clean shaven now, but I still recognized his deceptive eyes. They were like mine. We just sat staring at each other. He seemed fearless. His friends were staring at me too. I did not bat an eye. I was distracted when Amaka came by to say hello. Amaka was Derrick’s sister and she was a 200level student in Biochemistry department. Somehow in less than two weeks we have been on campus, every fresher seemed to know who she was. She was popular for one thing-her back side. It was humongous. My eyes were focused on her back side while she spoke to Derrick who was sitting at the opposite side of the table. I began thinking lustfully about doing bad things to her. I started to have an erection. Vivian’s piercing stare caught me off guard. She had seemed to notice what I was doing. She was quiet for the rest of lunch. After lunch, she foot the bill.
Chike Obi and his friends watched us leave. I was indifferent. Just outside bamboo, away from prying eyes, I held Vivian close. Derrick had gone off with Amaka. Their parents were in town. I pulled her closer and she did not resist. I felt her nipple go hard. I pulled her away and beheld it’s form like two pointed arrowheads visible though her silk dress. She was embarrassed. I held her close again, taking away her shame and inadequacies. We said nothing to each other. I still had her.
Princess was kilometers away from Anambra but I still felt her presence. I wondered what she was doing. She had been calling all day. I ignored all of her calls. She left me three messages this afternoon…
“Pablo, I was surprised you called. It has been forever. I haven’t stopped thinking about you”
“Are you okay. Why aren’t you returning my calls. I’m worried”
“We need to talk about Justina”
Justina was the name of Princess’ lover.
There was nothing to talk about. I killed her. I was starting to remember.
Dear diary, they had no idea what I had done or what was going on at the moment.
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