Bound

Chapter 1

Damilare

I sighed. 

My heart was still thumping. I turned over and checked my phone. 3:40am. Ugh.

I wanted to go back to sleep, but I couldn't stop running over the details of the dream. Over and over and over again. It was pretty basic, and I wasn't sure why, but something about it bothered me so much. Sigh. I was being stupid, really, why did I let this get to me?

But that voice, I recognized it. Was it—no, it couldn't be her. 

But why did I keep having that same dream over and over? And why did that damn girl’s laughter torture me so much? 

Flipping my pillow, I grumbled internally as I failed to find an adequately cool spot to lay my head on. I went over the dream internally, for what felt like the hundredth time.

It was in a forest. It was always in a forest. 

But something felt off, and that wasn't just the freezing cold. Then came the unsettling awareness that I was surrounded by silence. Eerie, unnerving silence. What kind of forest had no animals? Shouldn’t there be Rabbits and Lions? 

Do Lions even live in forests? I didn't know, but one thing I did know was that a natural forest should never be this silent. Not even my footsteps made a sound, and that wasn't for the lack of trying.

Then again, there was nothing natural about this dream. I couldn't make out the details of… well, anything. The trees seemed blurry, as if they were being viewed through foggy lenses. Then, as always, a sound cut through the silence. It was a girl, laughing. What was so funny about any of this?

But she was not just laughing, she was saying something, I just couldn't make it out. When she laughed, it was crisp and melodious, like a toddler having a blast. But when she spoke, it sounded muddled somehow, like some kind of interference was preventing me from making out the words.

“Wait!" I yelled as he reached out towards her.

Suddenly she seemed further away. She had her back to me, but something about her poise made her seem older than she sounded. And most infuriating of all, that voice… I recognized it. I knew this lady, I was sure of it.

I sprinted towards her. With every step I took, the distance between us seemed to increase. I started panting. But I had to see her. I had to know what she was saying.

But I never caught up. Night after night, I had the same damn dream, and each time, I tried to get closer. But somehow, I never caught up to her. 

Not once.

.

.

.

I slid the sponge gently over his plate, washing it as quietly as I could, so I could overhear my uncle's conversation.

I had been living with my uncle for… what was it, three years? Four? Regardless, he didn't seem to care about me now any more than he did initially. 

One would think he would have grown fond of me by now. That thought actually made me snicker. I wasn't exactly the most likeable of people. 

I knew I came across as a quiet young man, with deep set eyes that betrayed a lot of suppressed anger. I rarely spoke, after all, what did I have to say? In those rare moments when I did, it was usually in a low, deep voice, something befitting a middle-aged man going through an existential crisis, rather than a twenty-one year old.

Not that I had lived the life of any typical twenty-one year old. I had always been an introvert, maybe a bit of a loner, but ever since… the incident, four years ago, my personality had taken a grim twist. Perhaps that was why my uncle found it hard to relate with me. 

No— it wasn't just that. Uncle Olu was never exactly a man in touch with his feelings. He lived the life of a carefree bachelor, despite being a divorced fifty year old. Lacking the patience for a long-term relationship, he contented himself with brief flings and s****l escapades, making no effort to hide his promiscuity from me.

I found my uncle's irresponsibility rather distasteful, but I never commented on it. In fact, beyond the brief interactions necessitated by the fact that we live in the same apartment, we rarely spoke to - or even acknowledged - each other.

That didn't stop Uncle Olu from gossiping about me though, as he was doing right now.

"He's very much like her," Uncle Olu said. "The evil runs in their family,I tell you. I never knew what Dapo saw in her"

"Dapo made his choice as a man, Olu," replied the guest. His voice came in hushed tones - at least this man had the common decency to whisper, when he knew I was within earshot.

Uncle Olu snorted. "Choice, my foot! She charmed him, that witch!"

There was a brief pause, as the guest seemed to contemplate Uncle Olu's words. At that moment, my anger flared up. 

Why did Uncle Olu have to be such a gossip? Couldn't he for once mind his own damn business? Bad enough he was talking about her at all, but calling her a witch?

I took a deep breath. Regaining control of my thoughts. One. Two. Three. I closed my eyes and loosened my grasp on the plate. I'd had years of experience in suppressing my emotions at this point, but this topic in particular always got to me.

"Well maybe that's why the boy is so quiet. A yoruba man is not supposed to be like that," the guest finally replied.

"They are the same. She probably charmed him too. I don't know what Dapo saw in her." Uncle Olu's voice was getting increasingly bitter.

I'd had enough. I set down the plate rather noisily, intentionally making it obvious that I was about to leave the kitchen. I walked out, taking purposeful, long strides.

"Dami, how are you?" the guest asked, almost sounding genuinely concerned.

I ignored the man. 

Bloody hypocrite, Dami thought. Screw them. Screw them both. I kept my head inclined forwards, sensing my uncle glaring daggers at me.

I slammed my room's door and remained inside for the rest of the day.