Sara

Chapter Six

The next morning, Chioma woke up before me. I heard her moving around the room, I opened my eyes and watched her, still wrapped in the thin wrapper she'd found for me. She was dressed for market, her zobo bucket ready by the door.

"Good morning," I said, my voice tentative.

She didn't answer. She just picked up her bucket and walked out, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

I lay there for a long moment, staring at the closed door. The pain in my chest was sharper than any cold I felt last night.

Chioma was still angry and I didn't know how to make it right.

I got up slowly. My body aches and my head felt heavy. I washed my face and changed into the dry wrapper she'd given me, and picked up my dented cooler.

I needed to sell today and earn something, so I wasn't just a weight around Chioma's neck. Maybe if I could bring some money home, she would see that I was trying and would talk to me again.

The market was already busy when I arrived. I didn't go to my old spot. I couldn't face that place, not after the fight. Instead, I found a new corner near the back of the market, it's close to where they sold secondhand clothes. But it wasn't as good a location, fewer customers passed by.

I set up my cooler and started calling out. "Pure water! Cold pure water!"

The morning passed slowly. I sold a few sachets. My voice was still hoarse, and my face still swollen. Some customers looked at me and walked past, probably thinking I was diseased. By noon, I'd made only seven hundred naira. It was barely enough to buy food.

I was so focused on my goods that I didn't see them coming.

A shadow felI over my cooler and I looked up. My heart stopped.

It was the girl from before. The one who had taken my spot and we fought.

She was standing in front of me, she wasn't alone. Three other girls flanked her, all of them with hard faces and clenched fists. They were all bigger than me, and tougher-looking, with the kind of muscles that came from carrying heavy loads every day.

"Look at her," the girl said, her voice loud and mocking.

"The street fighter. The one who thinks she owns the market. Now she's hiding at the back like a rat."

I stood up slowly, my hands shaking. "I'm not hiding and I don't want any trouble."

"Too late for that," the girl said.

"You already brought trouble, when you embarrassed me in front of everyone. You even tore my weave. And you think I'd just let that go?"

She stepped closer, and her friends moved with her, surrounding me. I looked around for help, but the traders nearby were studiously looking away.

No one wanted to get involved. No one ever did.

"Please," I said. "Let's just forget about it. I'm sorry about your weave. I'll pay for it."

"Pay for it?" The girl laughed. "With what? You that don't have anything. Everyone knows you're homeless now. The landlord threw you out."

So the news had spread. Of course it had. In this area, gossip traveled faster than the buses.

Everyone probably knew what had happened between me and the landlord, and how I'd slept outside like a madwoman.

And just like that, the last shred of my dignity was gone.

"I'm leaving," I said, bending down to pick up my cooler. "You can have the spot for all I care. I'm going."

But I didn't get far.

The first punch caught me in the back of the head, making my vision flash white. I stumbled forward, and someone kicked my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, my cooler flying out of my hand, water sachets spilling everywhere.

Then the blows started coming from all directions.

Fists. Feet. Nails. I curled into a ball, trying to protect my head, but they were everywhere. A kick to my ribs knocked the air out of me. My head feels sticky and wet.

I heard laughter, the girls' voices high and cruel, but it sounded far away, like I was underwater... drowning.

"Next time you see me, you cross the road," the girl's voice said, somewhere above me.

"You hear? You see me, you run. Because if you ever come near this spot again, I'll do worse than this. Much worse."

I don't know how long they kept hitting me. But it felt like hours, it was probably only a few minutes. At some point, the blows stopped.

Footsteps retreated, their laughter fading. Then nothing.

I lay there in the dirt, my body screaming with pain. I tried to move, but my limbs wouldn't cooperate. My ribs ached with every breath. While the world swam in and out of focus.

I thought about Chioma, the way she'd looked at me that morning, with disappointment in her eyes.

I thought about how I'd probably never get to apologize. How she'd find out I'd been beaten and left for dead, and she'd blame herself for letting me go alone.

I thought about my mother. I saw her face, clear as day. She was smiling at me, reaching out her hand.

"Come," she seemed to say. "Come and rest. You've fought enough."

And for a moment, just a moment, I wanted to take her hand. I wanted to let go of everything and just... stop.

But then the darkness swallowed me.

---

I don't know how long I was unconscious.

The first thing I became aware of was a sound of a voice, far away, calling my name. But it sounds muffled.

"Sara. Sara!"

The voice was getting closer. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt like they were glued shut. The darkness was heavy, and pulling me back down.

Then I felt hands on my face. Warm hands. Shaking me.

"Sara! Oh God, oh God, Sara, please wake up. Please!"

It was Chioma. I knew her voice, even through the fog. She was crying. I could hear the tears in her voice, the raw panic.

"No, no, no, no," Chioma was saying.

"You can't die. You can't. Sara, please. Please wake up. I'm sorry okay. I'm sorry I was angry at you and didn't talk to you. Just wake up. Please, God, please let her wake up."

She was sobbing now, her hands cradling my face, while her tears drop onto my cheeks.

I wanted to tell her I was okay. Call her name and tell her I'm fine.

But my body wouldn't listen. It was like, I was held down by chains, able to hear everything but unable to move.

"Don't leave me," Chioma wept.

"You're all I have. You're my sister, Sara. My only sister. Please don't leave me all alone in this world. Please. I'm begging you."

Something broke inside me. I don't know how to explain it. It was like her voice reached down into the gloom and grabbed hold of me, and pulled me back into the light.

I focused every ounce of strength I had left, and I moved.

But it was just a twitch. A small movement of my finger against her palm.

Chioma gasped. "Sara? Sara! You moved! I felt you move! Oh God, oh thank you God. You're alive. You're alive!"

I managed to force my eyes open. It was just a c***k. The light was blinding, and Chioma's face swam above me, blurry and wet with tears.

But she was smiling. Through the tears, she was smiling.

"You're going to be okay," she said, her voice fierce.

"You hear me? I'm going to get you home. I don't care how heavy you are. I'm going to carry you and get you home."

And she did. She pulled me up, drape my arm around her shoulder, and lifted me onto her back like I weighed nothing. I was too weak to protest and too broken to help.

She carried me, my head resting against her shoulder, my body screaming with pain.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," Chioma said as she walked. Her voice was shaky with tears.

"Never again. You hear me? You're stuck with me forever. Whether you want it or not."

I wanted to thank her. Tell her she was the best thing that had ever happened to me. But the words wouldn't come. So I just closed my eyes and let her carry me home, allowing the steady rhythm of her footsteps lull me into unconsciousness.

Knowing, I wasn't alone.