When The Clock Strikes Twelve

Why is life a cold hard unforgiving mysterious bitch? Why do the innocent pay for the crimes they never commit? Who is that heartless person that wrote my fate to be this tumultuous? I'm tired, very tired, I don't know if I should end it all here... No I won't, at least until I finish writing my story. 

My name is Sola, and you don't necessarily need to remember it because you won't be seeing my ugly face anymore. My world started crumbling even before I was born - can you imagine that? My father: the beautiful man my mum said I reminded her of left while I was still in the belly. He did not even wait to see my beautiful face, my thick brows, lanky figure, and that luscious black skin mother said I got from him. Woe betide fathers who never stay to take responsibility. 

When I was five years old, mother gave me a sister whom I had always prayed for. Abigail was the only princess our family of three could get from Heaven. The most beautiful thing in my otiose life was Abigail. How she complemented every negativity in our family was unexpected but she did, she did try to rewrite our stories, until they couldn't be rewritten anymore. 

Mother was diagnosed with myeloma adenocarcinoma the same year I gained admission into the university. There was no one to call or plead to and mother won't let me drop out of school. she said the cancer will go on its own that I should concentrate more on school works for her sake. Last week Abigail called me that her case had worsened and she was scared something bad was going to happen.

I travelled home immediately to see my mother whose deterioration was fast accelerating. She was in pains but still managed to smile and tell us, “all will be well". Mother refused to buy drugs or go for chemotherapy, she insisted that the money was for my education and Abigail's JAMB form. I couldn't stand seeing her in that pitiable condition so, we forced her to see a doctor and she got admitted immediately. 

Abigail refused to leave the hospital ward. Everyday, she'd sleep on the floor, clean mother up whenever she vomited or excreted on herself and wipe sweats off mother's forehead. I brought both of them food and clothes daily and on days when we had nothing to eat, I would buy bread on credit for Abigail and mother's sake.

Last night, I decided to take a stroll and clear my head. The lonely street was quiet and the small rain that drizzled earlier made everyone shut their doors and only few houses had bulbs on. I heard the muffled screams and the ruffling of the bush path not too far away. I wanted to go there and see for myself, maybe help someone in distress but I changed my mind - what if they are kidnappers or ritualists hiding in the dark? The screaming intensified and I heard more voices... Maybe 4 or 5. 

I wanted to listen but I know for sure that I can't win 5 guys in a fist battle. Also, they may have guns. As the suppressed shouts and screams increased, I had no option but to walk further away, at least away from the spot that might later be a potential crime scene.

Early this morning as I prepared ògì with the hope of getting few moi-moi from the seller down our street, some elderly people came to our house. They wore forlorn looks and their faces painted only one thing 'DEATH'. They walked slowly towards the two-room apartment I live, more like if they walked faster, the planet will spin too fast and they'd forget what they came to say. 

Immediately they got to our doorpost, I opened the door and welcome them in, only two agreed to sit on the plastic chairs we have - others  chose to stand. I knew they brought no good news, at least when I went to them for financial assistance, they all said they'd love to help but the economy isn't favourable hence no money. I waited for them to tell me my mother has passed on. 

The eldest amongst them spoke first. I couldn't summarize all he said but it was shrouded in advice, then two others followed his path - offering motivation and wealth load of advice. It was the fifth person to speak that dropped the shocker. The news that broke every cord of sanity in my life, that echoed a million time within five minutes in my head. 

"Sola, we are so sorry and wish we came with good news but this morning, someone found the lifeless body of your sister at the town junction. Raped, mutilated and disemboweled. But we have called the police and they are working on apprehending the perpetrators of such evil act". 

I wanted to call them Liars, that Abigail is currently at the hospital with my sick mother. I wanted to cry, to shout, maybe tear off my clothes and run off the streets but then I remembered that when the clock strikes twelve tonight, it was supposed to be Abigail's seventeenth birthday.

I slumped. 

#If_I_Had_Fought_For_Abigail

© Ololade Edun.