ANNABELLE
A snippet.
I knocked on the door, waiting anxiously but there was no response. I wondered where everyone had gone. The compound was awfully quiet.
It has been thirty minutes since I returned from school in my soaked cream and brown checkered uniform. My skin itches from the dried rain and my hair has a rancid smell. I have not relaxed my hair in a while.
I look at my watch for the umpteenth time. My stomach is growling loudly.
Iya Iyabo came out of her house to keep her dustbin while Iyabo and Yetunde sat outside talking about something.
I return back to the pavement in front of my flat to sit, swinging my legs back and forth. My socks that were formerly white are now a dirty brown while my black shoes are sandy.
My stomach growls again. I mentally kick myself for not taking extra money for food.
The sun is blazing while a warm air keeps permeating through my pinafores. I yawn. A headache seems to be budding in the far corners of my skull.
I look at my small black leather watch again. It is almost 4:30pm.
My mom is the stay-at-home type. She is a virtual assistant on Upwork and she makes a decent amount monthly. She calls me her best friend and I know her in-depth. However, I am a little bit confused and surprised that she isn't home at this hour.
A loud clang somewhere in our kitchen makes me scurry for the kitchen window. No one was home so what was the course of the noise?
I try to peep through the wooden windows which was slightly ajar but the kitchen was too dim to make out any movement.
I am on edge now. I think someone broke into our house though there is no visible evidence.
Fortunately, I see Papa Iyabo with a bucket of water and a blue towel strapped around his waist walking towards the compound's public toilet.
"Good afternoon sir."
"Good afternoon Jemima. How is your mother?"
My eyes begin to water. I cannot bring myself to give an answer.
Papa Iyabo drops his bucket of water beside the mediocre hibiscus flower behind our house.
"Kiloshele? (What happened)"
"My mother is not at home but it's like somebody is inside our house," I burst into tears.
Papa Iyabo patted my shoulder and wiped the tears off my eyes. I never realized he was such a kind man.
"Oya, follow me let me collect my shirt and check. Did she tell you she was going out before?"
"No sir."
Papa Iyabo walked back into his apartment as Iyabo and Yetunde prostrated to greet him. I never really liked them because they always bullied me for not having a father. They don't know how much of a terrible man my father was.
Minutes later, Papa Iyabo emerged from his house wearing a beige jalabia and slippers. He walked to our door and knocked a couple of times but there was no response. He went back to his house to fetch a machete. He knocked again but there was still no response.
There was no padlock on the door so it was locked from inside. Papa Iyabo kicked our wooden door a couple of times before the door swung open revealing a scattered house.
My mom lay on the floor, face-flat in a pool of her own blood. Her laptop was upturned on the dressing table while the bed was turned inside out. The chairs were battered and the ceiling fan sounded like a saw.
I couldn't fight the tears, they kept flooding my cheeks. A part of me broke, she was all I had.
Iyabo and Yetunde came trotting to our pavement. They stared in horror at my mother's lifeless body. I wanted to hold her but she looked like a stranger. Gone was the bubbly woman I knew who faced life resiliently despite all she had been through.
There was a thud somewhere at the back of the house. Papa Iyabo gave chase. I just fell on the pavement staring at unseeing eyes that were looking past me. I hadn't realized Mama Iyabo was standing behind me. She walked over to my mother and closed her eyes.
Some male neighbours also gave chase.
Everything was a haze for me, I could barely concentrate. An ambulance arrived some minutes later to take the corpse away while police were carrying out investigations.
I should have known. She never really leaves the house unless it is important. I could have saved her if I had been more proactive.
I could barely hear the officer talking to me. His mouth was moving but there were no words. There was a loud ring in my head and I felt a wave of nausea.
"Annabelle, who can we call to get you?"
I turned sideways to find a young police officer with a notepad staring at me. He looked like he needed a haircut.
"Annabelle..?"
"My father."
The words felt like a curse but now, I had to stick with him.
Someone's phone rang.
"Hello?... Thank you!"
The officer looked at me pitifully. It seemed he was trying to find a way to break the bad news to me. I stared at him unflinchingly.
"It was a robbery gone wrong. It seems your mother knew the person that's why she let him in. Regardless, the culprit has been cut," I sat up hoping the criminal would pay for his crimes, the police officer looked tired, "it was your father!"
My heart sank.
© IYERE OSEMUDIA PERPETUAL
