The next day came with sun beams flooding her room through the window. It came with breath filling her lungs, her heart beating steady, blood flowing in her veins. She was alive. She was still here. She burst into fresh tears overwhelmed with emotions; a blend of relief and disappointment, then anger lying beneath them. She was relieved she hadn’t died but also disappointed. She realised she didn’t really want to die. The weight of her pain had just been too much for her to continue bearing.

A knock on her door reached her ears and she quickly wiped her eyes clean before opening the door. Fire stood opposite her in silky pink shorts and top, smiling weakly.

“How are you, baby?” She touched her upper arm. Fikayo stood still, a blank expression imprinted on her face.

“Fiks? You’re good?”

“Fikayo,” she called again when she got no response. She sighed. “I’m cooking spaghetti. Will you eat?”

She ignored her question and said instead, “Where’s mummy?”

“Locked up in her room since yesterday. I tried getting her to open the door but,” Fire sighed before continuing with a shrug. “I don’t even know.”

Her eyes began to water and Fikayo’s mirrored hers. Her sister held her chin, caressing her cheek with her thumb.

“Don’t cry,”Fire said soothingly, her eyes glistening with tears.

“But you are crying.”

Fire chuckled, squeezing her cheeks. “I love you,” she declared.

Fikayo lost the fight to the tears as they poured out of her eyes like water gushing out of a spring. Fire hugged her tightly, cradling her head.  She knew her sister assumed her tears were a result of their family issues but she was crying for herself. She was crying for the life she almost lost, almost took. She was crying because her heart ached badly, it cried for healing, it cried for release.

After minutes of shedding tears, Fire let go of her.
“Go take a shower, mama,”’ she smiled. “Your food will be waiting for you.” She rubbed her right shoulder then left.

***
Her mother joined them at the dinning but refused to eat.

“Mummy, please eat,” Fire persuaded.
Their mother shook her head, her eyes closed. When she opened them, they were red and puffy.

“He’s not worth it,” Fikayo muttered under her breath, eyes on the spaghetti sitting on the white plate before her.

“Kí lo so?” her mother asked, turning to face her.

She might as well just say it out loud.

“I said your husband is not worth starving and crying over. This was bound to happen! You knew it! We all knew it!” She pushed the food around with her fork.

“Fikayo,” Fire warned but she did not heed.

“Look mummy,” she dropped the fork, raising her head. “Let’s say it as it is. Daddy doesn’t give a f**k about you or any one of us for that matter. Focus on your cloth business. Leave the man to continue impregnating the whole of Lagos state. As for me, I’m done hoping. Y’all had better hop on this train. Leave the retard and give yourself peace. He’s a f***ing retard for crying out loud!” she all but yelled.

Her mother walked to her side and hit her hard on the cheek. Silence ensued for some seconds before Fikayo spoke lowly, “You can hit me all you want, I’ll say the truth regardless.” Then she raised her voice. “Your husband, Olugbenga Samson Adeyele is a retarded bastard!”

She made to walk away but her mother pulled her back with force. She staggered before regaining balance, yanking her arm off her mother’s hold.

“I don’t know where I’ve gone wrong in raising you. What have I done to deserve such disrespect from you, Oluwafikayo?”

“You really want to know?” she sneered.

“Shut up! Omo ìrankíran! Useless child!” her mother cried out. “Your father is still your father no matter what! Do you hear me?” she screamed, tears streaming down her face.

Fikayo chuckled dryly, shaking her head. She attempted to leave again. Her mother grabbed her shoulders and shoved her.

“You want to walk out on me. Fikayo!”
Fire was now behind their mother, holding her. “Mummy, please calm down. It’s okay,”

She broke free from Fire’s grip and lunged, hitting her on the cheek again.

“You’re a bastard child! I couldn’t have birthed you!”

Fire held her mother’s hand as she raised it again. She stood between the two fuming women. The tension in the air was thicker than a forest.

“He raped me,” she whispered, holding her aching head.

“What?” Fire turned sharply to her sister.

“Daddy raped me.”

“Omo òsì. Shut your dirty mouth up! Lying against your father because you’re angry? How could I have given birth to this mistake?"

“Five times.” Her breathing was laboured and her voice, shaky. Her mother lunged to hit her but hit the side of Fire’s head instead.

“Will you stop lying? Your father can never rape you. My husband is not a rapist. Olórun má jèé.”

“Mummy, let her speak,” Fire spoke in a stern voice. “Fikayo,”

“Remember the scar on his arm that he got on the second Saturday of June, 2014. I did that when he tried to force himself on me like he had been doing. I couldn’t have it anymore,” she revealed, sure that her mother would believe her now. She desperately wanted her mother to believe her.

“Mummy, I believe her,” Fire said firmly. “And you should, too. She has nothing, absolutely NOTHING to gain by lying.” She looked deep into her mother’s eyes. “I remember her behaviour began changing around that time, 2014. I knew something was wrong but couldn’t place my hands on it. I’ve always known something was wrong. I wonder how you never noticed mum.”

Fire sobbed, her palm covering her eyes. Her mother was staring blankly at the ceiling. She turned her gaze to her daughters and spat, “Fikayo, you need to stop lying! Stop it! It’s ridiculous. Your father did not and cannot rape you! Let this be the last time it comes out of your mouth!”

She departed and the girls embraced each other, weeping on the each other’s shoulder.

***

She was sitting at the edge of her bed, her legs touching the floor, thinking of better ways to kill herself since the harpic and antiseptic had not been effective.

Overdose
Cut yourself till the bleeding becomes uncontrollable
Stand in the middle of a busy road
Drink Fuel

She contemplated on which to go with; overdosing seemed more bearable. She didn’t want to die a painful death. She could also drink fuel; perhaps mix it with kerosene for faster and better results.

Her mother did not believe her. She couldn’t believe her mother did not believe her. She wanted to scream her lungs out, cry her eyes out, suck out every atom of life in her body.

The door swung open and in came Fire.

“Fiks.”

Her voice was like rain on a sunny afternoon, like water travelling down a thirsty throat. All of a sudden, she wasn’t sure she wanted to die anymore. Fire loved her. At least one person loved her.

Fire sat beside her and placed her arm over her shoulder. Fikayo placed her head on her sister’s chest. Her chest was heavy with emotion and a choking sensation coursed through her throat.

“Fikayo, I love you. I believe you and I will always be here for you.”

“Fiks, I failed you,” she spoke again. “I should have known. I should have protected you. I am so sorry,” she cried, her head touching the side of her sister’s head. “I am your big sister. How could I have failed you?”

“You didn’t fail me. Daddy failed us.”

“I am so sorry. I am so sorry, Fiks,” she sniffed, crying profusely. Fikayo closed her eyes and tears fell.

After minutes of crying, they stretched out their forms on the bed and fell asleep. Fikayo woke up by 7:15 pm with a terrible headache. Fire had left for her room. She reached for her phone. Zero notifications from WhatsApp as usual and a few from Instagram. She tapped on one of them, scrolling through the notification timeline. She went to her timeline and aimlessly scrolled through people’s posts, double tapping on some. After a while, she decided to search out Ike’s page to see if he had any new posts. The page loaded and she eagerly clicked on the latest picture of him in a sweatshirt that had “Lit for Christ” inscribed on it with the caption “Love my sweat shirt? Dm @litforchrist to purchase our merch. Face caps, hoodies, t-shirts, sweatshirts and more are available for sale now.”

She smiled, her heart beat quickening. He was really handsome. She tapped on the mentioned account and waited for it to load. The first post was a picture of a dark skinned girl in an Ankara dress, her black wavy weave sitting pretty on her head. Her face was made up and her neck and ears, adorned with jewellery.  She scrolled past it and stopped at a video of a girl smoking cigarettes. Intrigued, she eagerly read the caption.

“Moyo’s Salvation Story
My name is Moyo. My friends call me Mo, Lol. That is a video of me six months ago. I used to smoke cigarettes. Thankfully, I never went into anything deeper; just cigarettes, shisha and alcohol. I was obsessed with attention, anything to feel accepted, important and loved. Long story short, I started moving with this girl group because of my desperation to be wanted. My father abandoned my mother and I the moment he heard I existed while she was still pregnant of me. I always wanted something to feel that void up.
My mother struggled a lot to raise me. I didn’t go to the best schools, didn’t have the best of clothes or anything at all. I always wanted to feel among, to feel like I belonged. And so I ‘famzed’ these high class girls I met in my first year in Uni. They were living their best lives. They seemed to be happy. They seemed to have it all. They introduced me to smoking and drinking. We were at clubs every weekend, sometimes even during the week. We slept with random men we met for money. I had the attention and money I wanted but I still felt empty. There was still a void deep in my heart. Then one of the girls in our group quit the lifestyle, saying she had found a new life in Jesus. It was so hilarious to all of us. We made fun of her.

I began to get curious about why she suddenly quit. What changed her? Why had she bought all of that Jesus Jesus story? So, I reached out to her without the knowledge of the other girls. She was so happy and we agreed to meet up in a canteen. The simple truth that God loves me saved me. Lol. There was no drama to it. She told me she had been praying for us and was happy I wanted to know more about her lifestyle change. She told me God loves me, that Jesus died for me and would make me clean and whole if I believed he died and resurrected for me. That was it! I still smoked three days after my salvation and kept doing so from time to time. I hated that I wasn’t free from the addiction. My friend who led me to Christ told me something so profound that I still hold onto, ‘You have been made righteous. You have been set free. Christ has redeemed you from the curse of sin. You have power over it. Believe it. Declare it.’

I am three months clean now. I couldn’t be happier.
John 3: 16”

Tear drops had fallen onto her phone screen from her eyes. If it was as simple and straightforward as the girl had said, then she wanted her healing too. She wanted to be free, without the heavy weight of guilt and shame resting on her, without the sinking feeling of unworthiness.

“She said you love me, that you died for me. You can set me free.”

Some tear drops made their way to her lips as she shakily googled John 3:16, the verse she was all too familiar with but had never believed.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.

“I believe, Jesus!” she wept profusely, her body trembling. She felt a wave of calm wash over her as she uttered those words.

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Another intense chapter!
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