Chapter Eighteen
The Past
Clarisse

Blurred appearances of faces hovering above mine were the first thing I saw when I awoke.  Aunt Tobi's expression of annoyance was the only thing that seemed clear. It said these words to me: Why are you bothering my husband and me?

"Are you alright? My uncle questioned.

The words I wanted to say appeared stuck. My Throat was painfully dry; like I'd been starved of water for a week. A pounding sensation disturbed the left side of my head— travelling down to my eye. Sitting up was a literal pain in my ass. My joints and muscles were so stiff and taut that they creaked as I moved them.

My uncle passed me a glass of water. With shaky hands, I gulped it down and set it back carefully. That was the first time, I wept over the death of my brother Clarence.

Childhood had been incredible with him. I remembered his piggyback rides and how he'd throw me up in the air and always managed to catch me. He took it upon himself to read me bedtime stories when my dad got too occupied. As I sat on my bed, I recalled how he'd alter his voice to fit that of the character's dialogue.

His smile was the most infectious thing I knew second to my dad's. I adored how his eyes always lit up when he spoke to me; even while chastising me. Clarence was the only one who understood me amongst my family members. He didn't question or give me odd glances when I showed no signs of grief over my father— so I could understand his bitterness towards me even in the afterlife. He had wanted to be there for me; he didn't want me to feel the loss of our dad but I had killed him.

It made perfect sense he wished for me to join him.

Tiaraoluwa

My father's presence at home was suffocating. At first, I didn't believe I'd ever get used to him being out of Lagos but when he was, I found peace like no other.

I expected him to depart the next day after Kainene's burial but he didn't. Rather, he remained at home with my brother that Sunday while my mother and I went to church. When we came back sometime around twelve thirty, he was lying on the couch watching some YouTube conspiracy about Obama and the house was a mess.

Half-opened sachet water bags sat on the window sill and the content poured on the floor. Muddy footprints had smeared the water all over the place; garlic peels were on the floor (obviously the work of my dad). "Go and cook for us," my dad said.

Dismissing my dad, I took one look at my younger brother and asked, "Are you mad?"

If you're wondering why I'd ask him such I might think you too are mad. My brother was in the house and had not made any move to clean it since he woke up. He also couldn't take the initiative to cook something knowing that we'd be exhausted by the time we came back from church. Don't say he's young; I was already cooking for the family to eat by age eight. My brother was eleven.

"My son is not mad," my dad said with anger in his voice. "¹Gbe enu buruku ẹ́ sòún and go and cook for me. I'm hungry."
I
¹Shut your wicked mouth up.

I stared at him with my mouth hanging open. "You guys were in the house since and couldn't clean and cook? We that we're just coming back from church without eating breakfast we're not hungry and tired abi?"

"You're very stupid for that statement." He smacked me on the face. "Am I your slave? Don't you know I'm working to pay your school fees? I asked you to cook and you're insulting me."

"How's it an insult?" I challenged. "Sijuwade is at home and he can't clean up and cook yet you didn't say anything to him? Is he not the one meant to be sweeping? Every day I'm the one that does everything. I'll wake up to cook food I can't eat, and sweep and mop the house. Am I a servant?"

"Talk to you daughter o!" My dad yelled at my mom. "What kind of useless training are you giving her that she doesn't have respect?"

My mom sauntered away and said nothing.

"Don't ever in your life talk to me like that! What if I decide I won't take care of you again? Do you think I can't do that? I'd be a rich man if I wasn't spending my money on your education!" He roared pushing me to the wall. My head gave a loud sound as it made contact with the wall.

"I didn't ask you to!" I screamed. "I never said you should give birth to me! I never asked you to
—"

"Tor," he spat. "See this fool. If I knew it was you coming along you think I would have allowed your mom to give birth to you?"

I scoffed. The tears that had been sitting at the corners of my eyes began to make a descent. "Right. It's not too late." I muttered.

"I will beat you today!"

A sharp pain soared through my skull as a wooden turning stick made contact with the back of my head. My legs were the next target— I plunged to the ground in agony; then my arms and the rest of my body. I couldn't see anything and although the pain was intolerable I didn't beg him to stop like I normally did. I didn't scream, shout or trash. I just let the tears flow freely because I told myself it was the last day it would ever happen.

*+*+*+*+*+*

I completed all my chores around five thirty in the evening. My mom was in the sitting room eating with my brother while my dad had retired to his room. He must have gotten weary of giving me a lecture as I did the chores.

My phone was vibrating against a wooden table in the kitchen but I ignored it. I stared at the cemented decking and told myself I was prepared to burn in hell. I didn't question God why he let me suffer this much because I knew I deserved it. I had never followed his commandments or given him acknowledgement so it made sense of I didn't make it to heaven or got punished on earth. I pressed the knife in my hand against my neck; grinning at the prospect of death and from the satisfactory pain it brought. One look at the blood on the knife and I knew I couldn't keep at it much longer. The pain was going to become unbearable at some point and so I told myself that hell would also become unbearable because it was forever.

Just one year and I'll leave this house and go to university.

Wishing I had someone I could trust to talk to or process my thoughts, I rinsed the knife and then picked up my phone which was still ringing. It was Jayden who had been calling. I declined the call and checked the messages he had sent previously. All of them pertained to Kamsi.

Unblock Kamsi. He wants to talk to you.

Oluuuuuu

He's disturbing me...

He said he needs to talk to you...

Just unblock him.  He said it's really urgent.

So you guys are still fighting because of Adesuwa?

I thought he said you guys are cool even though Adesuwa is still angry.

Olu! Why didn't you unblock him since?

There was another message from Chimankpa which read, "I heard your dad has worked with Chevron before. I wanted to ask if he knew my dad. Maybe the two of them could become friends."

Although it was true that my dad had worked there, I picked up a notebook and pen and wrote "My life is a lie" because everything about me was built on a foundation of lies.

*+*+*+*+*+*

On Monday at school, everyone's presence seemed to annoye me. I was in no mood to speak with any of my classmates. Chimankpa was doing everything feasible to tick me off; proposing that our dads became friends so I could come to his house (with a lot of sexual innuendo) but I remained calm and ignored him. Kamsi and Adesuwa made a habit of rolling their eyes whenever they saw me.

Tuesday was the same but I felt more repelled by people's existence. I made sure to tell Chimankpa off in the rudest way possible when he vexed me; was rude to Nekpen when he came into my class for a purpose I didn't  know. I also told Clarisse off when she followed me to the library asking what was wrong and yelled at Feyisayo when she made the class messy while eating.

Kainye returned to school two days after his sister's burial and I could tell at first glance that something else burdened him other than the weight of his sister's death. "Are you okay?" That was the first question I asked when I saw him Wednesday morning. I knew he was not, but I still asked.

He wore a long face that was shadowed with grief and anxiety. "I'm not looking forward to today," He told me. "By the way, you're extremely early."

"I know," I shrugged. It was early, the clock on the wall of his class read 7:05 a.m. in an analogue way. "Why are you not looking forward to today?"

"You're always pushing it," he sighed dismally.

With a shake of my shoulders, I sat on his desk and faced him. "You don't want to face anyone?"

"Yeah," he muttered closing his eyes and leaning back on the chair he sat. "Someone and everyone."

"Oka—"

"Don't ask who in particular, I won't answer."

"I'll figure it out," I smiled cockily, then patted his head. Slowly he removed my hand.

"I'm not a child."

"I know." I stared hard at his hands that held mine. His blazer had managed to reveal the scars he inflicted upon himself. Ghastly cuts that could end his life made me tremble as I used my other hand to cover his hand. Bringing it close to my lips, I placed a kiss on a fresh scar. "You really should stop this. I understand the unexplainable pleasure it brings but what if you..." I trailed off, looking up at the ceiling— quite scared that my eyes would betray me.

"How can you understand?" He raised his brow. "No, tell me what made you understand the feeling?"

I didn't know what to say to him so I stood up. "You were appointed as the male social prefect on Monday."

"Olu what happened to your neck?" Kainye asked, his finger brushed against the bruise from the knife. "Don't tell me you..."

I was glad Clarisse walked in.