Jealous Gore And The Victim

Arrival

The sharp blast of a horn fractured the evening’s quiet, drawing me to the window like a moth to a flame. Below, one of the policemen, a hulking silhouette against the setting sun, fumbled with the intricate latch of the gate. Then, a familiar figure emerged from the deepening twilight, and a surge of pure joy propelled me from the window and out the door. I launched myself into his arms, a blur of motion and unadulterated excitement. He caught me effortlessly, a bear hug that lifted me from the ground, the world spinning in a dizzying kaleidoscope of delight. “How are you, my love?” His voice, a melody I hadn’t realized I’d missed so desperately, resonated through me.

“I’m fine, sir!” I practically sang the words, my face radiating a happiness so profound it felt as though it might burst. He set me down, his hand resting gently on my shoulder as I instinctively reached for his luggage. Together, we walked back inside, a silent symphony of reunion.

He led me not to the familiar living room, a space I’d always considered the heart of the apartment, but to a doorway I’d never noticed, a hidden passage to a world I couldn't have imagined. Stepping inside was like crossing a threshold into a dream. The air shimmered with light, not harsh or artificial, but a soft, pervasive glow that seemed to emanate from the very walls. Above, a grand chandelier, an intricate web of golden light, cascaded blessings upon the room, each facet glinting like a captured star. The marble tiles underfoot were a pristine canvas, so polished they mirrored my reflection with startling clarity, a second me gazing back from the gleaming surface. Pale curtains, fluid and ethereal, seemed woven from the dew-kissed hues of a rainbow, draping the windows in a soft, luminescent embrace. Sculpted chairs, with their intricate, skull-like designs, added an unusual grandeur, echoing the imperial elegance that permeated the space.

To the right, nestled in a clay pot, a vibrant cluster of green and red tulips painted a splash of vivid color against the muted backdrop. On the wall, between this “palace” and what I now realized was the actual dining room, hung an elaborate map of Africa, alongside other artful images that whispered tales of distant lands. A plush, fur-like carpet softened the center of the room, inviting bare feet. The air itself was a caress, a gentle, unseen current from a hidden cooling unit, while a golden fan spun lazily overhead, its cycling blades stirring a cool, ocean-like breeze, reminiscent of winter’s crisp whisper. I moved through it all, a hesitant guest in this newfound heaven.

His room, a sanctuary of pure white, beckoned like an angelic isle. A soft, cloudy fume, imbued with a subtle, glittery light, drifted through the air, casting an awesome, divine allure. I felt myself expand, filling every corner of the space, as if my very being had been waiting to inhabit such ethereal beauty.

“I was living my life in hell,” I murmured, the words barely a whisper, “and God took me in here to witness what heaven seems like, a reward for my suffering in that whole cell.”

“How have you been, and how is everything going with you?” His voice, gentle and reassuring, pulled me back to the present.

“It has been fine,” I replied, finding a newfound composure, “and now I’m feeling better, hoping to live here for a very long time, in a better state.” My words, chosen with care, carried a plea.

He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yes, you can be here for a very long time, but someone needs to be here with you because I won’t always be around to watch over you. You need to be under a watchful eye. I will bring someone who’s going to be here with you.”

A prickle of unease threaded through my newfound joy. “But, Dad, I can take care of myself. Don’t you trust me anymore?” The question hung in the air, tinged with a youthful indignation.

“Not that I don’t trust you,” he said, his tone softening, “but you need security and a companion, because I want you to be safe out here before I am done with the course I went for… Please, toss me the bag next to you. I got you some gifts.” His voice was laced with a complacent warmth that began to quell my apprehension.

“Okay.” I reached for the bag, my curiosity piqued.

From its depths, he produced an array of treasures: chocolates, biscuits, confectioneries, shoes, bags, and a plethora of new clothes. He handed them to me, each item a tangible expression of his care. I was swept away by a tide of amusement, utterly enraptured. There had been nothing in my life quite like this moment; I was so gleefully engaged, my heart soaring with a happiness I hadn’t known was possible, hadn’t known awaited me.

A quick peck on his cheek, and I bolted to my room, eager to try on the new wears. Each piece fit as though it had been tailor-made for me, a perfect second skin.

“How the hell did he get it so perfectly right?” I grinned at my reflection, a giddy laugh escaping my lips.

I slipped into the fittest ensemble and returned to his room, eager to express my gratitude. “You look so beautiful in these dresses,” he said, his eyes alight with pride. “And I have more, because I want you to look more beautiful always.”

“Thank you, sir,” I gushed, the words flowing profusely from a heart overflowing with appreciation.

Excitement bubbling, I made my way to the kitchen, microwaving a meal and serving it piping hot. His eyes lit up at the sight of his favorite dish. “Wow, it’s been a while since I tasted your sweet meal, and my favorite girl prepared my favorite meal. What a good!” He stretched the word, savoring it, a playful glint in his eye. “Thank you, dearie.”

He gestured for me to join him, and I quickly washed my hands. We ate in comfortable silence, the shared meal a testament to our renewed connection. When we finished, I cleared the dishes to the kitchen and returned to tidy the sitting room. “Sorry, dear, I’m so exhausted right now,” he said, a yawn escaping him. “I need to take my shower and have some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, sir, you deserve it. Have a peaceful night’s rest.” I responded, understanding his weariness.

After I finished mopping, I scanned the room one last time, ensuring everything was in order, but found nothing more to be done. Content, I retreated to my room. It was a happy and peaceful midnight.

I awoke with a lightness in my chest, a quiet cheer, and offered my morning prayers. Then, eager to greet him, I went to his room, but found it empty. He was already out, at the Masjid, observing his morning prayers.

I hopped into the kitchen, a hum of anticipation already building as I began to prepare breakfast before sunrise. A knock at the door startled me. As I opened it, I found my Dad and Yusuf standing on the threshold.

A jolt of shock coursed through me at the sight of Yusuf with my dad. “Good morning, sir,” I managed, my voice laced with a tremor of anxiety.

“Good morning, dear, how are you?” he replied, his gaze warm and familiar.

“I’m fine, sir,” I responded, my composure returning with effort.

Yusuf offered his own greeting, “Hello, good morning.”

“Good morning,” I replied, my eyes lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.

They both stepped inside, making their way to the sitting room, and soon the murmur of their conversation filled the air.

Who’s this guy? What’s the connection between them? My mind whirled with questions, a delicious curiosity taking hold.

I ventured into the sitting room, feigning a need to ask my dad about breakfast. Before I could inquire, he introduced Yusuf. “‘Salama,’ this is ‘Omeyiza’; they live next to us. I bought this house from his father, and his father was my childhood friend and schoolmate. I will take you to their house for you to get acquainted with the rest of the family.”

He then addressed my unasked question about breakfast. “You can prepare anything and serve me with a cup of tea.”

“Okay, sir.”

I returned to the kitchen, but Yusuf’s presence lingered in my mind, a distracting hum. Moments later, I heard footsteps, receding towards the gateway. “Bye, later I will come along with them to greet you, sir,” Yusuf’s voice drifted back to me.

“Okay, thank you, my regards,” Dad replied.

I heard my dad then call the policemen, his voice a calm murmur of appreciation for their efforts in looking after me during his absence. He settled their payment, and both men expressed their gratitude before taking their leave, returning to their offices.

“We still have good policemen in this country, and these are the good ones…” I heard my dad say, his voice carrying the conviction of a man who believed in the inherent goodness of people. “With these types of policemen in society, security can be rest assured.”

In the kitchen, I was deep in the rhythmic chop of preparing fried potatoes and egg sauce when my dad appeared at the doorway, a playful grin on his face. “I can’t wait to taste that; the aroma is asthmatic, taking the breath away.” He chuckled, and I laughed, the easy banter a comforting presence. He left for the sitting room while I continued to plate the dishes.

As I was serving, a new security man, freshly recruited, arrived. Dad stepped outside to welcome him, guiding him through his new duties within the house. Upon his return to the sitting room, he asked me to serve the security man some food. My plate, still untouched, became his.

Exhaustion, a sudden heavy cloak, settled over me. Cooking any more felt like an insurmountable task. I opted for a simple meal of tea and bread.

When I finished eating, he asked me to clean up, informing me he was taking me to school. I hurried, getting ready in record time, and soon we were on our way. At the school gates, we headed directly to the principal’s office. The principal’s face lit up at the sight of me; he had been informed I was missing, and the news had spread throughout the school.

My dad calmly explained the situation, detailing my recent ordeal and current circumstances. He sought permission for me to remain at home for the time being, to prepare for the upcoming West Africa Examination Council (WAEC). The principal, understanding and compassionate, readily granted the request.

On our way back to the car, we spotted my younger siblings waiting for us in the car park. One of them had seen us through a window as we walked to the principal’s office, and they had come out, patiently awaiting our return. There are five girls in our family; I am the third child. The two eldest are already in university, while the two youngest attend the same school as me. My immediate younger sister is in SS1, and the youngest is in JSS2.

Dad strode towards them, his steps purposeful, and embraced them both in a warm hug. He then instructed them to return to their classes, promising to pick them up when school closed.

They watched me with an almost awkward gaze, like hungry cats eyeing a plump mouse, their eyes lingering on my seemingly peaceful and well-dressed form. I slipped into the car, buckling my seatbelt, as Dad handed them some money before they turned back towards their classes.

He returned to the car in a swift series of steps, shut the door, buckled his seatbelt with a practiced ease, and pulled away from the curb, his driving skills as smooth and controlled as ever. He turned to me, his expression calm and his temperament cool. “I guess now you can focus on your studies for the exams?”

“Yes, sir, thank you for everything,” I responded, a wave of profound gratitude washing over me.

He smiled, a gentle pat on my back conveying more than words. “I will always be here for you, my dear. Just focus on your studies and make me proud.”

As we drove back home, a tide of emotions swelled within me – immense gratitude for a father so loving, so caring, by my side. I knew, with an unwavering certainty, that with his unwavering support and guidance, I could achieve anything.

Reaching home, I thanked him once more, my voice thick with emotion, for every single thing he had done. He pulled me into a tight hug, his whisper against my ear a balm to my soul: “I love you, my dear. Always remember that.”

Tears, hot and welcome, welled in my eyes as I hugged him back, feeling truly blessed to have him as my father. I knew that no matter what challenges life hurled my way, I would always have his love and support to lean on.

That night, as I lay in bed, I drifted off to sleep, my heart overflowing with gratitude and love for the amazing father I had been blessed with. I knew that no matter what the future held, he would always be there to guide me, to support me through it all. I closed my eyes, a soft smile on my face, feeling grateful for the love and strength he provided me with each and every day. With him by my side, I knew, I could conquer anything that dared to cross my path.