What's my Crime ?

CHAPTER FOUR – The Web Tightens

Chuka was now nine years old, soon to be ten. Ever since his last birthday, a strange, unsettling energy has begun to hover around the house. It all started subtly, with the way Sandra spoke to him, her tone laced with something that didn’t quite feel right. Then there was the way she hugged him a little too long, the kisses she gave before school and at bedtime—something about them had started to change.

Chuka, still just a boy trying to understand the world, assumed she was simply showing motherly affection. He didn’t think too much of it at first. But as time passed, Sandra’s behaviour grew bolder, and the surrounding atmosphere began to shift in a way he couldn’t ignore.

Chuka was beginning to notice things—little things that made his chest tighten for reasons he couldn’t explain. Sandra had started acting even stranger, but it wasn’t just her anymore.

There were others.

Sandra's friends, Aisha, Bella, and Mira, had become frequent visitors in the past few months. At first, they seemed nice. They’d smile at Chuka, ask about school, bring him treats, and laugh too loudly when he answered questions. But lately, their laughter felt heavy, like it meant something else. The way they looked at him gave him the same feeling he got in nightmares, when something was chasing him, and he couldn’t scream.

They’d always come around together, sometimes staying up late, sitting in Sandra’s room with the door half-shut and music playing low. Once, Chuka walked past and heard his name, followed by giggles and a whisper that stopped the moment he paused. When he knocked, the door opened only slightly, and Sandra’s face appeared calm but stiff.

“Go watch TV, sweetie. Grown-up talk.”

He obeyed, but unease clung to him.

One Saturday afternoon, as he was picking up the dishes after lunch, Bella brushed past him too closely. Her hand stayed on his back a little longer than necessary, and when he looked up, she was already smiling at Sandra.

“He’s growing fast,” Bella said. “Strong-looking boy, too.”

Sandra only smiled and sipped her wine.

They always talked about his growth, his height, his skin, his voice changing slowly. As if he were some science project under observation. But he didn’t understand why it made his stomach twist.

A few days later, he found a book hidden under Sandra’s bed while cleaning. It wasn’t like her usual novels. The cover had no title, just a red silhouette of a boy and a woman. The images inside weren’t for children. Chuka shut it quickly, heart pounding, and stuffed it back where he found it. That night, he barely slept.

Still, he kept telling himself: Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m just imagining things.

But the house felt wrong now, like it was watching him.

One evening, while Sandra was out, he overheard a video call ringing from her tablet. The name on the screen said “Mira💋.” Curious, he hesitated. The screen lit up without a password, and he could hear voices. They didn’t know they were on speaker.

“He’s turning ten next week,” Sandra said at the other end, her voice clear. “We’ll do it on his birthday, like the others.”

Laughter.

“Does he suspect anything?” Aisha’s voice.

“No. "Not really,” Sandra replied. “He’s still innocent… for now.”

Chuka's hands shook. He ended the call and dropped the tablet like it was burning.

That night, he locked his door for the first time.

He couldn’t explain why. He didn’t have the words. But he knew something terrible was coming. Something no child should have to face.

At school, he stopped talking as much. The teachers asked if he was okay, but he only nodded. At home, he avoided Sandra’s eyes, made excuses to stay outside longer, even took up sweeping the compound just to be away from the walls that felt like they were closing in.

One afternoon, as he sat outside under the mango tree, he saw Mira step out of a cab. She waved at him, that same too-bright smile on her lips. He didn’t wave back.

“Almost birthday boy!” she sang.

Chuka forced a smile and stood up, slowly returning toward the door.

Inside, Sandra was in the kitchen. “Come help me with the cake list,” she said. “Ten candles this year!”

He nodded but said nothing.

"Ten?".

Something about that number echoed in his mind like a countdown. Whatever they were planning, it was connected to that number. Ten.

That night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, heart pounding. The moonlight cast long shadows on the wall, and each creak of the house made him flinch. When Sandra peeked in to say goodnight, he pretended to be asleep. She leaned in, kissed his forehead gently, and whispered, “Only a few days now.”

Then she closed the door.

He waited a full hour before he got up and slid his table in front of the door. Just in case, Chuka had no words for what he was feeling. The way Sandra looked at him had changed, and so had the way she touched him. It no longer felt motherly, it felt like something else. Something he couldn’t name. He would stand frozen when she kissed his forehead or whispered in his ear. It made his skin crawl, though he didn’t know why.

But he said nothing.

Because silence, somehow, felt safer than questions.

He noticed things too. Late-night whispers when he crept past closed doors. The way Bella, Aisha, and Mira stared at him like he was a piece of fruit ripening on a branch. They called themselves The Hinge, laughing about secrets they would “take to the grave.”

Sometimes he heard them mention his name, always softly, always like a spell.

He didn’t understand any of it. All he knew was the air in the house had grown heavier, harder to breathe. Something was coming. Something big. And no one was going to stop it.

On the night before his tenth birthday, Chuka stayed awake, curled under his blanket, eyes wide open.

He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow.

But deep inside, something told him it wouldn’t be a celebration.