Once, I was an adolescent boy named Obiora and it was in my days that Temple Run reigned supreme on android smartphones. But I was only eleven, yet to resume secondary school by next September, therefore at the time I was not entitled to having my own smartphone or a sense of entitlement to access one.

Mummy was in the bathroom and so it was my chance. The aging tecno phone lay faced down on the mattress I and Mummy shared and the temptation was strong. First I  had fear, fear for my mother, my world, because even though Mummy had a permanent scowl, she woke up with a deepened demeanor this morning. I knew that look and understood that it was Tuesday, a day she did not look forward to for the activities she was forced to engaged in. So on a fence my thoughts sat.

To take, or not to take

Mummy might take a while in the bathroom, she often did, on days like this that she didn't look forward to what it had to offer, lifeless, uneventful days, for Mummy was a lover of life and had been far zestier before the heartbreaking demise of Aunty Chinasa.

To take, or not to take?

When mummy woke up in the morning, she had just sat there on the edge of the mattress, tired already, at dawn. It was incredible actually, because you see, humans sleep to regain strength with which they would face the next day, but Mummy woke up this morning tired. And tiredly, she trudged around the apartment that morning while I pretended to remain asleep. On a good day, Mummy may not ask me to lead the prayers. She'd let me sleep. It was in this pretense that I remained up until Mummy moved about lifelessly in our two-room apartment, warming the egusi soup to keep it from going sour and boiling water with which to take her bath. Silently and grumpily she moved about as I peered at her through the slits of my right eye.

Now she was in the bathroom with a bucket of  water and judging from the sound of splashing water that had not yet come, I could guess that she was either just standing there and thinking about how her life should have been better if she hadn't had me so early or she was brushing her teeth. No, that couldn't be it. I would hear heavy spittle flying off her lips. Perhaps she was using the toilet. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. She was not using the bailer yet and that meant that I had about fifteen minutes to try and beat my own high score.

Take!

Swiftly but a little shaky, I reached out and took the phone. The battery was at 23%, which was to be expected as power had been out for the whole of Monday. Not that anything got spoilt. It was just reasonable and traditional that they would seize the power for twenty-four hours after generously providing it for almost twenty-four hours on Sunday so that men would enjoy the finals of a premiere league match between Arsenal and Newcastle.

33133

I typed in the code to unlock the phone. I had seen Mummy two weeks ago, type it in when she thought I was not looking, but as usual while I pretended to be asleep, I saw everything through the slits of my right eye. My eye problem was getting worse, so I had not seen her clearly as she typed in the code. I had only observed the movement of her thumb over the screen and so later that evening, I tried a number of combinations till I got it right and celebrated. Mummy would have been proud if I wasn't committing a crime, so I would keep this secret; especially since Mummy would change the pin if she knew I knew it. I celebrated my achievement in silence and my smiles.

Water splashed in the bathroom, hitting the floor tiles like thousands of grains and I willed the screen to load faster. A sense of panic began to rise in me as I saw the  battery drop to 22%. Mummy would kill me, but at least I must get to have a run a least.

Come on.

The screen loaded, I selected character and clicked 'play'. I smiled and the rush began, my heart beat pacing as quickly as the feet of my avatar. There was nothing in my life that was more exciting. I could no longer run as I used to, loved to, since these days, I could not see properly. There was possibility that I would run off a cliff and would keep running, but also there was the haunting trauma that came with the death of my best friend, David. It was my fault, it was because I made David run that the jeep knocked him down and mangled him underneath its weight. It was a big trauma for a boy my age to bear, but I bore it and did so alone, and did not even know that I carried a weight that was even too big for mature persons, for I was not even allowed to feel it. I I thought, perhaps, I did not have the right to grieve because it was my fault, that my grief would insult people who were really hurt, like David's mother, so I didn't. I had not even let a tear drop once.

I would now run through my avatars. Sometimes they ran off a cliff, sometimes they smashed their skull against giant logs, sometimes they are torched to death by flames like the death of a dragon, but each time, they came back alive, stronger, more alive and more determined to have another go at life.

20%

Surely, this was my last run. I will drop the phone, turn around and lie face down, buried into a pillow and mumbling something until Mummy finally comes out of the bathroom and find me in a drowsy morning prayer position. Good plan it was but then the game ceased, the screen froze, unreactive to the touch of my thumb and then, a long, taunting second afterward, the phone began to vibrate and ring. 'Bro Sam', was as the caller ID.

My eyes widened and I could not believe how far God was willing to go to punish me for not being an ideal child of his, for pretending, instead of saying actual prayers, for sneaking around to use mummy's phone.

"Every day is for the thief; one day is for the owner. And that is the day the thief will die." Mummy would always say in rapid intimating Igbo and too often, I was the suspect in that reference. Perhaps it was my day, my day to be caught, but I had no regret. I have been a warrior, brave and mighty, worthy of accolades, using the most advanced tactics amongst my peers to maneuver conditions that did not favor me. I could keep a straight face and lie, or cry real tears and still be lying. If I die, then so be it. I would go a champion and when I meet David in my next life, I would tell him tales of my mighty conquests, quests I conquered and David would shake his head and would tell me it's not good, whilst on his face still remained a smile, a smile which spoke louder and said "Wow! You're something else."

I slid the phone quickly under a pillow and put my weight over the pillow to stifle the ring. My face squeezed in determination as each ring seemed to only grow louder and louder. I pressed hard, down on the pillow and prayed that Mummy would not hear, the noise of the maize engine grinding in the next yard might help. But then she did.

"Obiora!"

Her voice was loud and was intended to wake me from sleep. It was good, Mummy assumed I was still asleep, that means I could feign ignorance of any accusation that followed this event. That means, I could say, "but I was sleeping, it is not me."

"Obiora!" She called again and my heart skipped and just like that my confidence wavered. I could not pretend this time, what was the point really? What was the worst thing to happen? Mummy had already done her worst. I almost died the last time, it was because of her that I could no longer see clearly beyond arm's length and before elbow's length. It had hurt her more than it had hurt me really and ever since then, Mummy was afraid to lay hands on me, especially since neighbours would rush in if I cried and would self-righteously call her a witch who would kill and eat her own child. It was for this reason that Mummy decided that when she went to village for the burial this weekend, she would not return here until she found a different location, perhaps in Enu Onitsha, where she would be close to the market and see if her soap business would grow.

"Maa?" I reluctantly answered.

"Wete nu that phone." She said, asking me to bring the phone in a mix of Igbo and English. It was the unofficial ligua-franca of the Onitsha city, often termed 'Engligbo'.

I got on my feet with the phone in hand and the ring ended at that moment. I stopped also on recognizing this small window of opportunity. I quickly typed in the pin, open the phone, held down the home screen button, and even though the phone responded at its normal pace, I felt it was taking forever and was doing so on purpose, taunting and mocking me. The list of opened apps showed not soon enough and I pressed the 'clear all', I thumbs shaky, sweat forming between the crack of my buttocks.

"Where are you?" Mummy asked, exasperated. She opened the door slightly, pushing out her lather-covered demanding hand through the slim opening.

"I am coming." I replied grumpily and then put the phone in her hand. "Good morning, ma."

She did not reply as she took the phone and shut the door. It began to ring again and a second later, it stopped and Mummy said; "Hello,"