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Amara

I know I’m not supposed to say this here, but sometimes, life can be harsh that it pierces all its pins on just a single heart. Now I know, that all destinies are already programmed for either success or failure;or unfortunately, I fall shamefully into the “failure list.” Please don’t pity me—it’s life.

I’m Grace (fondly called Amara), but I’m sure that name has a negative impact in my life. Whenever I find myself at crossroads, paths stained individually with Success and Faliure trails, I immediately follow those who head towards the Success lane, but when I get to the middle, the lane changes mysteriously to Faliure, and those following me are immediately transferred to the other lane—Success.

I know you may not still understand, but I hope you do, before this frail heart of mine finally ceases.

“Babe, you don forget say today na April fool’s day?” That was the voice of Rhonda over the phone, the voice that brought darkness to my brightness, the voice that sent dark embers into my members.

Rhoda meant no harm—the voice did.

My dad was already out for work, so I and my mum had the whole day to go crazy; however, we had a little feud the night before.

I wouldn’t want to go into details, but we’re not always like that. Yes we have our fights and even the walls tremble when we rage, but the bond between us is like the derf hooves of a Leviathan.

I was all watery that morning and I couldn’t lift a finger; however, Rhonda’s call sent in an intense, “spirit-lifing” surge, that I sprang up immediately from the bed, racking my brain for possible ways to fool my mum—it was the only way we could blend back.

After so many trials, I felt sad, as nothing came up, just stupid thoughts all over. I decided to let it slide anyways; afterall, I had so many things to do that day, so many places to visit and so many friends to fool too, but definitely not my mum again.

After the do-it-everyday tasks, I needed something to munch on. Heading towards the kitchen, I went straight to the refrigerator, which was earlier moved from the store, the previous week.

Aha! The apples! The apples my dad had been hiding for two days, were seated unashamedly, in front of me.
What a perfect way to build bonds and start the new month!

I quickly took some, picked the best knife and headed towards my mum’s room—I needed to clear the mess I created.

“Mum, it’s a new day! Get up before I get you!” That was our daily mantra. I had already turned it into a song.
I sang for a while before something strange sent death pangs across my cells.

Mum would never leave her door open … no! Not for any reason whatsoever!

I stopped singing, trying to pick any strange sound or anything at all. Everywhere was silent and I was beginning to hear the continuous thuds of my heartbeat.

I had wanted to call her from there, but I decided to go in and see for myself. As Esther would say, “[I]f I perish, I perish.”

At a point, I even concluded that she had gone out, maybe in a hurry but before I entered the room, a sight stunned me and my gaze was fixed ardently at something rather shiny.

My mum had finally exposed all her jewellery! Aha! Time to explore…

I was almost going in to drop the apples and knife before my mum sprang out from behind the door and cried, “April f—”

No… she didn’t complete her statement.

Her voice frightened me and the apples fell to the earth, but the “death-calling” knife stood firmly in my fist, causing an unusual reflex action and slick! I had plunged a 12cm knife into my mum’s abdomen.

She wanted to tell me how much she loved me; I could see it in her eyes.
Mum wanted our feud to be over.
Mum had her plans too for the April fool!

No! No! No! This impossible! But what could I do? My chest became so heavy, as though a 50 pound lead had been placed on it.

Mum, leaning on the door frame, now crawled slowly to the ground, with strong, yet so weak pants.

Her eyes were filled with tears, so were mine. She couldn’t say anything.

I was so confused … so confused, that I had to quickly draw out the knife and that was it! She had already turned white and pale. That was when it all came back to me and I gave a thunderous scream!

I had killed my mum!

“No! Mummy, please … I brought these apples for us … Mummy us. Mummy, please take yours and let me take mine … Mummy nah … Hey!”

I wasn’t myself that day. I couldn’t cry again, as my eyes were already swollen. They had turned to eyebags; the size of which men carry their audacity in.

I felt stupid. I felt useless. Guilt … Despair … Torments … Thoughts … What more could life offer a little girl, who craves for unbreakable bonds?

Tears prevent me to write more … Breath cuts short … someone should please call me Disgrace.

Grace wasn’t there when Rhoda called. It wasn’t there when I was compelled to take the apples. Grace wasn’t there, when I was carried away with the jewellery. And lastly, Grace couldn’t hold me—or at least, let the knife fall too.

I can’t say what happened after then but I must let you know that I decided to t—

Pen rolls. Another lady commits suicide.

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