Chapter Twenty-Two
The Past
Kainye

If there's one thing I've learnt from Sunday school, it is the bible verse: Matt. 7 vs 5: Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye is true.

I've never been necessarily a great believer of the word. I've always been nonchalant about Christianity. It seems more like my mother's religion and from what I'd seen so far, it was not working for her. Her marriage was in shambles, and my sister was dead.
Maybe my mom wasn't truly a Christian but like of those who went to church on Sunday mornings for eye service.

Anyway, I realized how horrible of me it was to say such things to Tiara when she had only talked about being depressed as a Nigerian out of concern.

I'll admit, Tiara did horrible things but I was no better. At first, I didn't think it mattered that I called her out on her lack of empathy towards Chimankpa's depression. I thought it was right of me to do so, to be harsh with my words towards her; to tell her she was a bitch for saying his depression and suicidal behaviours were just to get attention. I had wanted her to get angry, to slap me, push me or be violent but she remained apathetic towards it. She really did not care.

The next day at school (after that incident with Tiara), I met Rita in class all by herself. She was answering the WASSCE literature past questions and munching on chips. "You're always snacking on something," I rolled my eyes. "Can you not do without food?"

I'll be honest, I don't know why I said that. The words just seemed to flow out of my mouth easily.

She pursed her lips but masked her annoyance with a smile. "Of course not. No one can do without food."

It annoyed me that she had a silly smile plastered on her face. Just like Tiara, I couldn't get the reaction I wanted out of her.

"I heard what happened," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" I asked sarcastically, throwing my bag on a chair.

"I'm not sure I know how to answer that," she said. "It's hard to notice that something's wrong because you acted perfectly fine yesterday but I could see it in your eyes that something was wrong. Your eyes were..."

I groaned in frustration. This was something Tiara did to me often and I could only tolerate it because she was my friend. We were close enough for that. "Stop trying to psychoanalyse me." I sunk into the chair, directly on top of my bag. "Just mind your damn business."

"I'm sorry." She raised her hands in surrender and continued eating her chips.

For the rest of my classes during break, I couldn't help but think back to my words towards Tiara. Perhaps it was wrong of me to say so when I treated Rita the same way. I'd called her an attention seeker before when Obinna had made a nasty comment about her mother and she had started crying. I often shut her up when she talked about domestic violence; trying to educate us on what it did to the mind of teenagers.

After literature class was over, I walked over to Rita's table— she had a confused look on her face when I didn't say anything at first.

"I'm sorry," I finally mumbled.

It was hard— no difficult for me to say those words but it seemed better than allowing guilt to consume me. There was no valid reason got me to talk to Rita that way in the morning. Maybe Clarisse was right and Tiara lied. Society might have been what shaped Tiara to be almost emotional and non-sympathetic towards most people. Maybe she was going through something that made her treat others like shit just to feel better. Maybe Tiara was more like me than I thought.

I had only been rude to Rita because she was the best available option for me to transfer my aggression.

I left the class to look for Tiara but Kamsi said I should check the sick bay after explaining what happened in the morning and when I went to the health block, I met Adesuwa who told me to check the library. It was going to be awkward for me to appear in the library alone— students never really visited so the probability that it would be just us was quite high.

After I found Clarisse, we went to the library together and I couldn't help but still behave like an a**hole. Hear me out; I wasn't just annoyed at Tiara's lack of empathy towards other people, I was angry at the fact that she had probably attempted suicide, knowing that it triggered me. For making me scared that just like I lost my sister, I was going to lose her too.

Other than the explanation she gave as to why her neck was bruised and her palms scraped, I was scared for a second that Tiara had problems she would never open up about. Problems that made her understand how I felt when I cut myself. Although I didn't take her word for it that she had fallen on iron rods, I chose to believe it at that moment because any other excuse was better than hearing she went through something that made suicide a tempting offer for her.

For Clarisse, I never chose to believe the lie she told about her aunt. About some so-called" discipline. I knew her aunt might have starved her often as punishment but packed the finest of lunches for her to school so no one suspected a thing. Maybe Clarisse was scared to eat what her aunt had made so she gave it out. A part of me knew that was more than just parental discipline but just for that day, I didn't press further.

She met up with me after school, we sat side by side, did our homework and discussed Wattpad novels. "Won't your aunt be mad?" I asked after a while.

She shrugged and looked around the living room. "I asked my uncle if I could be here."

"You really should stop cutting." She told me as she sat.

I regretted not wearing my jacket.

Clarisse

My uncle was the only one who seemed to be on my side in that house. If you exclude Luna.

Delẹ was lying on his stomach that Thursday when I came back from school (I happen to remember this day vividly). He was wearing only boxer pants in the middle of the living room. A plate of cereal was on the rug which he lay on. A carton of Hollandia yogurt was beside him and he knocked it over, spilling the contents on the carpet. "Oops," he smirked. "You might have to clean that."

"Ment?" I questioned, annoyed by the impudence. "Clean it yourself abeg." I hissed.

"You're so spoilt." He picked up the Hollandia yogurt and downed the contents, burping loudly. "Somebody can't play with you ni?"

"You're very disgusting."

I walked up the stairs in annoyance, muttering profanities about him under my breath.

"You're back from school already." My uncle was seated at his laptop. He acknowledged my presence without looking up, rather his eyes were focused on the screen of the device, his finger moving across the keyboard— making a rhythmic clack noise. "You seem annoyed." He commented.

I shrugged and said nothing.

"Is it Dele?" He asked, finally looking up. His forehead was creased with lines of worry.

"He poured yoghurt on the rug downstairs. He was now asking me to clean it," I muttered, feeling childish for reporting him.

"Dele!" My uncle screamed, taking me by surprise. I had never once heard him scream out insults. He was usually calm. ¹"Se ori é yi?"

¹Is your head upside down?

"What?" He called out, running up the stairs.

"Ti mo ba gba ẹ loju? Ori é a pe. Oṣi!" His eyes were hard with fury. "Am I your agemate? You can't say 'yes sir'?"

²If I slap your eye, your head will be correct. Fool.

"Sorry sir," he mumbled then glared at me as though it was my fault he hadn't been respectful in his response.

"That yoghurt you poured on the rug downstairs," he started. "Before I count one to ten go and clean it!"

Dele flinched then stalked angrily down the stairs muttering something under his breath, not before sending me a glare.

"Uh, thanks?" I said to my uncle, wringing my fingers. "You're always on your laptop."

"I know," he sighed, rubbing the middle of his brows. He had started to type once more.

"Not to sound offensive or rude but do you work? Or do you have some investments that bring you money?" I asked.

"This is work," he told me. "I'm into ghostwriting."

"I thought writers don't make much money? Their publishers make the most." I pulled out a chair and sat opposite him, dropping my school bag on the floor.

"It depends." He pulled down the screen of the laptop. "Being a Nigerian writer is hard. You don't want much if you're not Chimamanda Adichie or Wole Soyinka. Plus the publishers are just..." He trailed off, staring into nothing. "Anyways, I write for other people, earn in dollars so I have a lot of money. If I were living in America, I wouldn't be really rich though."

"The exchange rate?"

"Yep." He leaned back in his chair, putting two hands behind his head, stifling a yawn.

"How do you find who to work for?"

"Upwork." He finally released his yawn, covering his mouth. "I get like a thousand dollars for a 50,000-word novel. I can write that in less than two weeks because I have all day."

"Nice," I drawled. "Have you ever thought of writing books of your own? Who knows you might become a bestseller."

"I know I can become a bestseller," he smirked at me. "I've written books for people who become New York Times best sellers. I got really good bonuses for them."

"Wow," I smiled. "You should write a book of your own."

"I've written several," he said. "I haven't published any."

"Can I see them?"

"No." His response was unusually quick.

"Why?" I pouted.

"They're not for your age," he said firmly.

"Do you write smut?" To this day, I have no idea what demon possessed me to ask that.

"What the fu-" He stopped himself before he could complete the word "fuck". A blush had spread around his face but he recovered and said, "Why would you ask me that? I hope you are not reading such nonsense."

"No." I was pretty sure my face had turned red.

"And I don't write smut." He seemed uncomfortable

"What other books won't be for my age? Plus I'm 17."

"I'm not having this conversation with you," he groaned. "Go and baff. Then eat. I cooked rice."

I rolled my eyes. "Can I go to my friend's house?" We had a math assignment and I remember Kainye telling Tiara that he was going to copy her work.

"Who will take you?" He asked. "I don't feel like driving. I can't let you enter public transport."

"I can go by myself. The person lives in this estate."

"The person?" He frowned. "That person does not have a name and gender abi?"

"Well..." I shrugged, wondering when my uncle was so interested in my life. He had never once questioned me when I left the house. He probably assumed I was going to the park because wherever I went Luna went. "Where's Luna?" I asked. She wasn't waiting by the door for me, as usual.

"She's a bit ill," my uncle said. "The vet came after you left for school. She's sleeping right now."

"Her basket is empty," I deadpanned.

"On my bed." He gave ms the same look I had given him. "Don't change the topic. What friend is that?"

"My friend." I turned my lips downwards, narrowing my eyes. "Why are you so interested in my friend."

"Don't give me that look." He was yawning again. "You're going to that boy's house abi?"

"Which boy?" I asked, playing dumb. I understood his concern about me going to a guy's house but there was no way, he could be more concerned than I was. I chose to go there to get used to being around Kainye and feeling safe even if we were alone.

"The one that his siste—" he paused. "Our neighbour."

"What makes you think it's him?"

"You guys always go somewhere unknown together."

"We hang out in the park. With other friends like Darasimi and Kamsi."

"I see," he said. "Be back by 5:30. And you're not going until you eat."

"You suck," I pouted looking at the analog clock on the opposite wall. It was 3:40 p.m. "I'll just eat when I come back."

"I'm currently writing a new book," he said ignoring me. "It's about a teenager who struggles with an eating disorder and well, teenage stuff. I'll let you read it sometime."

"Is this about me?" I scoffed, slightly annoyed.

"Did I say you had an eating disorder?"

"You're just like my dad."

"Do you miss him?" He asked. His gaze was gentle.

"I guess," I sighed in resignation. "Sometimes I feel like I don't miss him enough. It feels like I've forgotten his existence until I see a picture of something. I almost don't remember I once had a dad. I'm living my life like nothing ever happened to my family and that makes me—" I kept quiet, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Sorry for dumping it—"

My uncle reached out his hand from across the table and held onto mine, squeezing it gently. "It's okay to feel that way and it's okay to talk about it."

"I should uh, get changed and head out," I said standing up.

He gave me a long look. "Okay, but remember our deal."

*+*+*

I was at Kainye's house a quarter to five o'clock. My uncle had force-fed me with several threats including reporting me to my aunt— yes that one worked on me. I felt so full that I didn't feel like going to Kainye's house anymore but I did.

Kainye and I sat side by side and did our homework, not quite content with the silence but too afraid to disturb it. Finally, he tested the waters and said, "You've been quiet."

"So have you," I shrugged in response.

"I guess," he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. "I read the book you and Tiara were discussing the other day. Storm and Silence."

"Ooh," I cheered, giving him an encouraging smile. "Did you like it?"

"I just sort of started but I like the energy I'm seeing. It portrays how sexist the '90s were."

"Yeah," I said. "Women had to do crazy things to respect the chauvinist group."

"Like Lillian wearing her uncle's clothes," he laughed. "It was so funny when she curtsied instead of bowing."

He was cackling and I liked it. It had been so long since I had seen his eyes light up with joy or happiness. For the last few days, they had been soulless— void, empty.

"She ruined her perfectly good plan," he said. He was still reeling in fits of laughter. "Like why would she even forget that?"

"She was used to it, dumbass. Her aunt was always breathing down her neck about being ladylike."

"I guess so," he wheezed, his laughter subsiding.

"Where are you in the book?"

"The part where Mr. Rikkard Ambrose was looking for a file and he wanted to undress her to search for it. I stopped somewhere around the part where she was a woman pretending to be a man, pretending to be a woman."

"Ah yes," I said remembering it, "They were like her disguise is so believable, they'd think you're not a man but a woman when she was a woman."

"That was clever," he chuckled. "I think I get why you guys read books."

"You're a literature student, you're supposed to love books!" I exclaimed, giving him a gentle nudge on the shoulders.

"Trust me, when you're given books to analyze, you would hate them."

"Oh please," I replied, rolling my eyes.

It was hot and there was no denying it, "Should we go outside, it's sort of hot?"

For the first time was wearing a tank top in front of me but a jacket lay nearby.

His arms were bare, exposing all the pain he had inflicted on himself. I think he didn't mind leaving his scars open because I was already aware but it was quite overwhelming and I was lost for words as my eyes ran down the arm closest to me. Random cut lines were here and there but at the centre, was a sentence written vertically.

mors, ubi es?

"What does that mean?" I asked, gesturing to his arm.

"It's Latin for something. I was obsessed with aesthetic stuff," he said avoiding my eyes then wore the jacket beside him. "Sorry, I thought since you knew... Well never mind."

"You really should stop cutting."

I remember when I told Kainye that, hw said nothing, ignoring me. His countenance was stony.

"I'm being serious." I put in after a beat of silence. "You aren't being fair towards yourself."

"Can you just drop it?" I could feel the annoyance radiating off him. His lips were pulled into a frown. "Why'd you always have to make me feel- forget it."

"Kainye," I called out firmly. "I don't care if you're offended by what I'm saying. Or the actions I take regarding your self-harm. I want the best for you, this isn't right. You need to stop."

"What would you know about it huh? I already told you my life is shit, do you need me to explain that in detail so you can understand why I can't do without it?" He asked sarcastically. His voice was cold. "Just fucken stop. Why'd you even have to bring it up in front of Tiara?"

"But she knew," I mumbled, feeling awkward. "I'm sorry, I just..."

"She knows but," he groaned. "Well fuck."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you shouldn't be," his hands found mine. "I just don't feel comfortable talking about what led me there and I can't stop. You don't think I've tried?"

"Don't you get scared?"

"Of?"

"You could accidentally kill yourself," I told him, locking my fingers with his. "I'm scared for you."

It was the truth.

I had watched several movies where people had died by a slash on their wrist and even one of the books I read around that time— The Last Disciple, a character faked her death by a slash on her wrist. If the cut had been just a little bit deeper, she would have wound up dead.

"Won't be that bad eh?" He grinned, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. "Except that we won't be together."

"Are we together?" I inquired of him. Suddenly I realized being together did not necessarily suggest dating. It could have been as friends, as classmates or any other thing. I wanted to drown myself.

He examined his feet and beamed slightly, not saying anything for a while. "Do you want to be together?"

"Do you?" My hands were still in his. I'd gotten comfortable with his touch but the awareness of it kept me on edge.

"This is going in circles." He finally took his eyes off the floor but didn't spare me a glance, rather, he stared at the picture of his sister on the wall.

From his left side, I could see that his eyes had become empty of life. They dimmed and journeyed a long distance in a train of thoughts.

My eyes caught sight of the wall clock. "My uncle says I have to be home by five-thirty." It was a lie. I just wanted to avoid his question.

"Oh." His eyes snapped towards me. "It's like a minute after that. Would he mind?"

"I don't think so," I shrugged, standing up.

"Better safe than sorry." He stood up too and walked me out the door, his long legs moving with ease.

"Where's your dog?" I asked him. We were just outside his gate. "Haven't seen him for a while."

"His cage," he said, gesturing to the side of his house.

"Tah," I scoffed. "It's a prison. Seriously some dogs shouldn't be caged. It's not like he's dangerous or anything."

"Well, we can't let him in the house. He's not potty trained and he chews everything."

"Yeah but why a cage? I'm sure you guys have a chain around its neck too huh?"

He grinned. "Yes, we fulfilled all the stereotypes of Nigerians and pet dogs."

"You guys suck."

"Well, I do take him on walks."

"Only when I take Luna out?" My right eyebrow was lifted.

"Guilty."

We were facing each other, our hands were still somehow intertwined. He took a step closer, his eyes— filled with a sense of longing searching mine. Gently, he used his free hand to hold my face, leaning in and planting his lips on mine.

I shoved him as calmly as I could, not wanting to hurt his wounded torso— my eyes glancing towards the window of my aunt's. I muttered. "My uncle might be—"

"Hey, it's cool," he said, taking a step back. "I'm sorry I got you into trouble the last time."

"I could walk you to the door," Kainye offered.

"My uncle would see you then."

"He seemed nice the other day," Kainye shrugged. "Doesn't he know where you are?"

"He does," I nodded. "You could walk me I guess."

My uncle opened the door, brandishing a knife innocently. "I was just making dinner, your aunt would soon be back," he told me with a tight smile, pretending not to see Kainye.

"Good evening sir." He did that false prostrate he had done when he saw my aunt at the reception.

"Evening. How are you?"

"I'm doing well sir. How about you?"

"I wouldn't know about me," he shrugged, twirling the knife in his hands.

"Uh, goodbye?" Kainye said as if asking while looking warily at the knife.

"It's a little bit past six," my uncle commented, walking into the kitchen. I went after him slowly behind. "What were you doing there since?"

"We were talking."

"Didn't see much of talking going on." He began chopping up boiled meat into tinier chunks.

"Because you weren't at his house with me."

"I saw when he kissed you," he informed me. Placing the chopped meat into a bowl. He rinsed the cutting board and placed onions on them, after tearing off the dried purple skin.

"He didn't, I... Nevermind."

He raised the knife. "Really?"

I rolled my eyes, watching him as he placed assorted peppers in a food processor. I waited for the whir of the machine to stop before speaking. "What's for dinner?"

"That boy's head."

"His name is Kainye."

"Right. Are you going to eat?"

"Not Kainye's head though," I laughed.

"Really?" He was cutting up plantains into a bowl. "Let's see what Tobi has to say about it. Or your mom."

He poured oil into a wide frying pan and waited for bubbles to form at the side before pouring the slices of onions into it. The aroma wafted up my nostrils and filled the entire house. He poured the peppers in next. "Can you whisk five eggs for me?"

"Sure." I walked to the fridge and brought out the brown shelled eggs, rinsing them at the sink and then breaking them gently into a bowl. The whisk was on the counter so after rinsing it, I beat the eggs gently, till the yolk was evenly combined with the white. "Here."

"Thanks." He was peeling Maggi cubes and breaking them against his fingers. He poured the meat in next and stirred gently.

"Your book..." I started. "Is it solely about the girl with an eating disorder?"

"Sort of," he mumbled. "A bit of child abuse."

"You should write about self-harm," I said then walked out of the kitchen.

A/N
This chapter is dedicated to Godschild_16. I'm sorry for the delay in the update. ❤️
This was originally meant to be split into two chapters and a double update since it's a novel on the web and people advised me to split the longer chapters, but I couldn't find the perfect place to cut it. I considered doing so at the beginning of Clarisse's POV but Kainye's part was not up to a thousand words. Just like chapter fifteen, it's the longest chapter.

And thank you guys so much for 2.11k reads, 230 votes and over 400 comments. You all mean the world to me. ❤️