Okay, my babies. I'm homeeee. Mummy is backkkkk. And as promised, I was going to surprise update during the week, so here I am. Even if I'mate sha. But, in Rihanna_Adedeji's voice, "OOPS!🫣" 😂😭❤️

Oya, this is just to spoil you guys for being such loyal readers and to thank you too as we are so close to 5k reads on TMBT II and that's half of 10k, so yes, I LOVE YOU and trust me, you WILL enjoy this update. You will lick it the fuck up. I promise you!❤️🔥

And as usual, we can't forget to give a shout out to our Co-Comment of the Week (since I'm updating twice this week, loll), so:

Just because vin_nie90 KILLED me with this comment. 😂 So, give it up for them for winning the Comment for the Week (Winner II) this time around!👏🏾 And let's see if Mama Acha, Acha, Chido and Nana will all pretend to faint. 😂👏🏾

~ACHA~

Maybe that's why those pearly white teeth were flashing our way, that sharp-like familiar grin following us as we descended down the stairs, right up until we caught it and halted on our tracks. Staring back at the terror, the only human on earth that I could vouch was more insane than Sean Ayomide.

Of course, it was the woman he had inherited it all from: His brute. His audacity. That fucking psychotic smile too. The last person that we would have wanted to run into right now, the last person that needed to see me right now.

Mrs. Regina Ayomide.

Most of my memories with Sean, under the ruthless tyranny of his mother, hovered around the ages of six and seven. And frankly, those were the core of my childhood memories.

When we were seven, for example, I visited Sean's house on the eve of New Years and the little bastard preferred to not tell me that his Mum already had plans for the family that night. It was a trap, I fell into it, and before I knew it, the woman was pulling me and Sean by the ears into her white Range Rover and while I screamed asking where we were going and Sean was spewing out tears beside me, she never said a word until we were in front of Redeemers Church for the New years Crossover celebration.

Of course, me and Sean came up with this genius plan to run away. He stole a carton sheet from the Children's church while they were preparing for their drama presentation and I dipped my hands into Mummy Go's bag to steal a pen, and together, we ran into the top deck of the building, plotting like deranged criminals planning a prison break, both of us scribbling a perfect-plan map against that carton sheet with all seriousness and vigour. Our escape plan.

His Father was even in on it.

The man, our superhero as at the time, showed up behind the church with a stone faced Okada man and the moment that he saw us out of the church - after we had successfully mapped out our escape from the building with our little map - he grabbed the both of us with one strong hand, scooped us like we weighed a feather and threw us onto the bike. Sean and I were screaming of both excitement and terror as the bike drove with reckless abandon across the Crown Bridge, it felt like death and life happening to us at the exact same time.

All we wanted to do was see the Fireworks.

And his Dad took us to the best spot, where we were even able to hold up our own Fireworks and watch it burst through the air with a light of explosion. It was a maddening experience, one that even till date, I could not ever forget.

Of course, horror waited us when we got back home. While my Dad joined forces with Sean's Mum to reign shouts on me, my Mum and Sean's Dad were jumping in on defence. It was a terror to watch, but nothing compared to the pain I had felt when Sean's Mum banned me from ever coming close to her son again.

As part of Sean's punishment, his toys were taken away from him. He was banned from watching TV and all his game consoles and Nintendo devices were confiscated as well; everything that she ever got him, she took them away. Until he was left with nothing more than the empty room he was locked in for days. All he had access to was food and water.

These were normal punishments for him growing up. If he got a B in class, if he got in trouble for insulting his bullies, if he spent time with me instead of reading his books, he got locked up and isolated. Everything, taken away from him.

One time, his Mum had fallen asleep after leaving him to 'pick pin' in their dark basement, and I only knew because Sean opened up to me weeks after he missed school and came back, limping. That same week, it was the School End-of-the-Year party and just because Sean had over eaten, Mrs. Ayomide threw away his shakey tooth with a dirty slap.

Neither of us could have seen that dirty slap coming, especially since the 'Witch' had literally appeared from nowhere. Me and him were laughing and stuffing cake into our mouth, all surrounded by our classmates in Primary Three A who were also having their own fun, and before I knew what was happening, my best friend was flying across the room in premium tears.

Nonetheless, that was the last time I had seen her face to face. And since that day, Sean only ever snuck out of the house to spend time with me. According to her, I was the reason her son ever acted out of character. For whatever messed up reason, even though I was barely seven years old, Mrs Regina Ayomide was certain that the only thing that her son was heading to, in my hands, was permanent destruction.

The woman had always been adamant that I was nothing more than a thug...

And, now, fast forward,

Years after, she gets to stand before the same 'thug' and watch after he has grown into his form, hard sharp glare watching me down from the locked dreads on my head, the scar on my left brow, the bulging muscles on both my arms that threatened to tear through the chopped sleeves of my clean white tank top and down, down to the rugged ripped jeans that I chose to wear today. Today of all fucking days.

Adding to the fact that her son was in his condition because of me, it was easier for her to confirm that she was never wrong about me after all.

"Rich," she spoke, her polished black British accent sipping through those lips of blood-red on her very, very dark face. White teeth flashed hard at us, sarcasm dripping off every sentence that came out of her, as those her needle heels klinked against the tiles of the hospital floor with every step she took closer to us, "What a splendid and remarkable surprise seeing you here, Acha and Friends."

She still had it, that condescension in her tone. The woman was still the same as I remembered, even after all these years.

One survey of her was a clear confirmation of that fact. Mrs Ayomide held the art of condescension like it was a skill. She had Sean's eyes, only with thick disdain and curt dented in those dark, judgemental orbs. One that even that sharp-like fake grin could never hide.

She really still looked the same too, just mad richer. And of course, upgrading herself and her aesthetic accordingly to her riches in glory. For example, her hair was straight down to her shoulders, jet-black greasy and laid-back, and I knew it had to be the latest wig. She hung on her hand the kind of bags and purses you'd see on Jumia, the ones with over eight figures in its price tag, fated to be sent from abroad with a shipping price worth more than the bag itself. And no, not the Versaces or the Fendys or the Pradas that people who just touched money would stock in their closets, but those rare ones that no one talks about because the price was choking enough to send you into a seizure.

The ones that only the one percent of the Elites buy, with odd brand names like MooMoo and ChiChi. In general, Mrs Regina Ayomide absolutely reeked of money. Money that was filthy and stinking high up to the Heavens.

She stopped right in front of my mother, sharply eyelined eyes staring into hers. And up close, I go to realize that she also still had her signature - that thick, sharp eyeliner. She drew it like she wanted to make a statement, like she wanted to prove a damn point. The woman always had a point to prove, so it was no surprise how she never also outgrew the cooperate fashion aesthetic. The collar shirt, dark blazer and palazo trousers she wore - all in black and white - proved that point. The point that she was one of the most powerful members of the Judiciary of the country.

"One thing I love about my job is that it makes me an impeccable detective," she said to my Mum, her lips pursed as she looked my mother from top to bottom as she spoke, "The moment that I found out that you were speaking to my husband behind my back, I knew that conspiracies were being plotted behind my back. Weren't they, Aunty Uju?"

I stepped up front, an instinct to protect my Mum hitting me in that instant.

Maybe I was wrong about something. There is something different about Mrs Ayomide. The woman was smaller than I remembered and I only noticed this when she was in such close proximity with my Mum. In the past, I remember Sean's Mum always feeling like a towering wicked witch of the West over me, but now, she barely reached my chest in height...

Nonetheless, it didn't make her any less scary. This little witch still terrified every bone in my body. So, her getting into such close proximity with my Mum... It unnerved me.

Nana and Chido had never even met her before, but I could sense that they felt unsettled by merely watching her.

And, I could hear every beat of my Mum's heart inside her chest. She stood there, allowing me step up slightly just by her side, while feigning confidence. Matching the other women's glare with a blank look, as if her heart was not pounding vigorously.

"I know that you are nothing more than a clumsy University dropout, Aunty Uju, but surely you are aware of the consequences of breaching Hospital visitation rights," she said to my Mum, eyes glinting manically as she waited a few seconds for my Mum's answer to her rhetorical question, "You sure do have no respect for privacy, do you, Mrs Uju Acha. Section 37 must be an absolute joke to you, innit?"

I fought the urge to wince, my Mum did a good job at keeping her composure even with the sting of her words.

"Please, sorry, excuse us, thank you."

That was either Nana and Chido. I hadn't got the chance to figure out which one of them said it, but the next minute, the two boys sharply turned around with heads down and politely states walking out of the scene, not turning back for a second.

As per, God forbid, they stand there with us and be a part of this.

I wasn't angry with them for 'running away'. A part of me knew that they just wanted to save my Mum the embarrassment by not bearing witness to the insults that they knew was coming for her from Mrs Ayomide.

Mum sighed when the boys ran away, and being the bigger person, she started to answer Mrs Ayomide in calmer words.

"Regina, I was only trying to-"

"Mrs. Regina Ayomide," Sean's Mum cut her off, brow arching in subtle annoyance as she made her next correction, "SAN." Her smile remained stagnant even when her eyelid twitched a little. "You have no right to address me as the commoner that you are, after I hustled like a dog, day and night, surviving through sleepless nights in the Law School of Kano State, bagging my first class degree, working in the legal profession for years and getting my well earned titles. You will address me with respect, do you understand that, Aunty Uju?"

My Mum gave her nothing more in response than that straight unshaken look in her eyes. I knew the woman that gave birth to me. She would not show that she was succumbing to a fellow woman like her, especially one like Sean's mother who she was almost decades her senior in age.

However, Mrs Ayomide did not give it a rest. She didn't look like it was even in her plans to, she has much more to say to my Mum, and with the subtle twing of mockery laced in the dots of her irises, I feared for her next words. If there was anything sharper than her Cleopatra-themed eyeliner, it was her words.

"Now that we have established that you address me as SAN, what do I address you as, Aunty Uju?" She said to her Mum, sweetness in her tone and a faked innocence accompanying it, "I mean, last I heard from you, when our kids were just babies, you were struggling with that unfortunate hairdressing business of yours that crashed onto the ground like Olympus. Of course, that was after your woeful modelling career that failed before it even began.-"

"- Excuse me, Ma'im-"

"I don't speak to Agboros," she shut me down before I had the chance to even complete my sentence, silencing my interruption.

My mum was mute.

I couldn't even look at her, not after what this woman just said to her. I knew how much it would hurt her, and even through the corner of my eyes, I could sense the soberness in the firm stance she was feigning. I hated this. I really hated this. She had no right to insult my Mother like this. Especially over something that still haunts her till this day. Mrs Ayomide was throwing bullets and opening wounds that nobody in my house dared to open.

"I'm sorry we came here, Ma'im. We will just leave right now," I said, but my desperate bid to compromise was in vain when she stepped up closer to close the space between she and my Mum, a clear indication that she was not even halfway done with us just yet.

"Aunty Uju, why don't you tell your son that I don't engage in speech with local touts?" She spoke up, spitting a jab at me while looking dead into my Mum's blank eyes, "And, frankly, I'd rather not have my children hang around such disgraces either, but unfortunately, there isn't any much in my hands that I can control anymore. Especially when I give clear and concise orders and people like you keep defying them, Mrs Uju Acha."

"It's my fault, Ma," I cut in again, "Please, don't attack my Mum for anything. I'm the reason we all came here today. It's all my fault, not hers."

Mrs Ayomide only gave me a polite smile, the finest one of sarcasm she could muster.

"Darling, nothing a child ever does can be their fault," she said to me, "I have nothing against an unruly and irresponsible child who has no ambition or goals for themselves and would probably end up as useless and degenerate as their hellbound parents... So, no, I don't blame you. I never have. And, I never will..."

Her eyes reverted back to my Mum, grin rubbing off it as nothing more than vileness and resentment clouded it in totality, as she made her point clear:

"I blame her."

Mrs Ayomide's eyes never left my Mums, and my Mum said nothing but stand there and take the insults. It could have shocked me, knowing that I knew my Mum. This woman was the most no-nonsense person I knew and with all the bullshit that spewed out of Mrs Ayomide's mouth, my Mum should have taken out of her nothing less two teeth by now.

I knew why Mum didn't retaliate. She felt she didn't have the right to. Not after everything that I had done to cause these. It wasn't to punish me. It was to protect me. If she retaliated, the consequences of my actions could have tripled. Mum didn't fight back because she wanted to protect me. So, she would rather stand there and take insists from this woman, no matter how badly she wanted to backhand her from here to South Korea.

"Look at your son, Uju."

Mum didn't look at me, but I looked at her. So, I could see the slight shock that flashed through her eyes when Mrs Ayomide addressed her by her name. This was something that had never happened before, not with the unspeakable age difference between the two women.

However, Mrs Ayomide did not still call it quits.

"Look at your son," she repeated herself and if I had not grown to generally give less of a shit, I probably would have felt extremely self conscious. "You must be a proud farmer, Uju, raising such a remarkable animal inside your own home.-"

Blood of Jesus.

"- And what stunning physical profile does your son have to show for himself?" She continued, laughing mockingly as she scrutinized me from head to toe without even blinking my direction for one second, "Training your child to be the next rastafarian. Asake in the making, innit? With those dreadlocks like thin strands of a dirty mopstick sprouting like a curse on his head. And I'm not surprised that your child is gaining uncertified WWE titles on Social Media since you let him grow muscles like a roadside Lagos thug who carries cement and bricks and blocks from one destination to the other. He must feel like he can beat everyone up, including me, maybe that's why he didn't even deem it necessary to do the bare minimum of greeting me when he saw me this morning.-"

"-Good afternoon, Ma-"

"-Lack of basic home training, Uju," she tsked, blatantly ignoring my greeting, "You failed as a Mother, Obianuju Acha, but I cannot say this comes to me as a shock because at the end of the day,"

The woman took an extra step, even when I felt it was impossible, eyes levelling my Mums in challenge as she spat venom into her face with five stinging words:

"Failure Parents raise Failure Children."

Mum's firm stance faltered in the slightest, a little shift that I only noticed in the fraction of a second. She blinked a little too many times in a second and I wasn't sure if she was mustering her self control or just holding back tears, but it was all a reaction that happened too fast.

And after what seemed like an eternity of a stare down, my breath hitched in the back of my throat when I finally saw my Mum open her mouth to give a response.

"Now, listen to me," she started off with a firm tone of authority, "I understand that we're in the wrong, but that gives you no right to walk in here and belittle me however you please. Non-respectfully, I will not stand here and watch you make a jest of me or any members of my family, because you are no better and you have never been any better. And you can't use the opportunity of an upper hand to lay insults like that on me, Mrs Regina. I don't like that.-"

"You don't have a right to determine what you like or what you don't like in this situation, Uju!" She fired back at my Mum, "My son is fighting for his life right now as we speak, because of your lowlife piece of garbage child and you are here, opening your filthy goddamn trap to tell me what you like and what you don't like about how I am expressing my anger and disdain towards you. Get a goddamn grip! You and your family members know no remorse!"

"Believe, I sincerely apologize for what happened to Sean, it truly, immensely and deeply hurts me that-"

"Hurts you?" She cut her off again, barely letting my Mother complete sentences that she started, "If it hurts you, you wouldn't be levelling me eye to eye on your own wrong. You would be on your knees, kissing my feet right now and worshipping the ground that I am walking on right now."

"With all due respect, I am not doing that," My mum calmly responded.

"I don't expect shit from you, Uju Acha. I never did and I never will," She berated my Mum, her next words stinging like a snake's poison, "I don't expect that you are worth shit either, so take whatever apologies you may have come here with and swallow it down until it gets stuck in your oesophagus with the rest of your stone-heavy pride! I don't need your sorry. Take it to Hell with you and your Family, Uju Acha."

The silence between both women was thick and heavy, I felt uncomfortable. It was something I couldn't watch, something I hated to witness, so when I saw my Mum still powerfully holding Mrs Ayomide's death stare with eyes that were reddened and on the verge of tearing up, I looked away.

Frankly, I wasn't sure if I could watch my Mum cry again. It would kill me.

"And listen," Mrs Ayomide said, her voice in threatening whispers and I felt the heat of her presence edge nearer, so I knew she stepped up impossibly closer, challenging my mother with determined precision as she assured," The Acha Residence must be aware that I will, most definitely, sue for this."

My heart dropped down into my stomach. Hard.

"Got that?" She raised a brow as she winged her glance in my direction for the fraction of a second, "I will sue. And, you, Uju Acha, your miserable son, and your runaway Husband will see me in Court. And best be assured that I will NOT rest until my son gets the justice that he deserves, until you and your god-abandoned household are thrown in the four walls of a congested jail space where you all rot until maggots, cockroaches and termites eat you raw, from the inside out, until the filth inside of you is exposed for the whole world to see an scorn you the way I do. And if I do not keep to my words..." She twitched a manic smile, eyes glazing with a scary certainty and spite, "Then, you know that my name is not Regina Quin Hallo."

Her final words soured the ins' of my stomach and I felt a nausea threatening. This woman only threatened with her maiden name when she meant business.

She hardly gave us a chance to say anything in defense. The moment she made her point, she shifted to the side, an air of prim and poise abiding her as she brushed past my Mum's shoulders, storming out of here with nothing short of pure vile and anger.

We didn't say a word after the woman left, there were no words that could have been said between me and my Mother. An overwhelming feeling of guilt as well as a burdening weight crushed against my shoulders, as I analysed everything that we just witnessed right now.

By the time we got outside, Nana and Chido were there waiting for us.

All Mum did was thank them for coming before entering the car, waiting for me to get in too, without saying anything or asking me to. I sighed, gently exchanged bro hugs with the two boys who dedicated their time to being with us today and knew somewhere deep in my heart that I could not thank them enough.

"Sorry about all these, brother," Nana said to me, a sober expression and sincere look marrying him, "You know, in a way, if I was present during the Christmas party, I could have prevented all these from happening."

"Don't blame yourself for anything, man," I assured him, "Nothing is your fault. You don't have a responsibility to look out for anyone, yeah? It was a party, and you had to enjoy yourself as well, didn't you?"

His braces glistened when he smiled.

"I really enjoyed myself though," he told me and with a friendly slap on his shoulder, a grin and a 'that's my guy', I cheered the guy on.

Chido tapped against my shoulder, a warning smile on his face as he said, "See you in school, bro."

"Same," I answered back, "And, you should get on to your Prefects Meeting before you run late. We'll talk later, yeah?"

"For sure," Chido said with a quip salute. His deep chuckle resounded around us as she told me, "Giwa Falade has already given me over fifteen missed calls, so as you can see, duty calls."

We laughed shortly and after a quick group embrace and a few words of prayers muttered on my behalf, I entered into the car with my Mother who didn't say a word from the beginning to the end of the Car Ride.

***

I ended up getting takeouts for me and my Mum for Dinner that night.

The only food that we had taken all day was the microwaved jollof rice from Last night, and maybe if I stepped up and did something for dinner tonight, it would salvage a little bit of the problems I had caused her so far. It was the least I could do. Especially since she had sent off the day workers in our absence.

It really was the least I could do.

"Mum?"

I called softly as I held onto the door of her room, peering in gently through the little space from the half opened door.

Cloud in her dark robe and strands of her messy bun sprawled across her face, Mum sat there on the reading desk and my heart broke into a million pieces when I saw her staring at the mirror, soberly watching her own reflection in quiet observation.

"Mum..."

As though she was in a reverie before I called, she jumped. Startled. And when she turned her face back to look at me, I stopped breathing for a second, her bloodshot, swollen eyes scarring somewhere deep into my eyes.

"I got you food," I said to her, "I know you're not a fan of SA Cafe, so I decided to pick up dinner from Lantana instead, because you said something nice about their pasta the other day."

She smiled even though through her pain, it released a huge burden off my shoulders when I watched her respond with such welcome.

"And, also," I decided to take the opportunity to step more into the room, quietly closing the door behind me as I spoke, "I am really sorry about how I spoke to you yesterday, Mum. It was wrong and disrespectful and very uncalled for. You didn't deserve that, Mum. I'm so, so sorry."

All she did was nod her head, she didn't give me an answer, and with my head down and eyes, downcast, I made sure to keep the food bag right there on the desk for her.

"I don't have anything against you, Marcus. You are still my child and my responsibility after all," she said to me, "I just can't stop thinking about how that little girl spoke to me today."

I knew she was talking about Mrs Ayomide. She was the 'little girl'. I wasn't sure what else to do or say, all I did was mumble and repeat words of apology over and over and over again. And all she did in return was sigh and nod

"I love you, Mum," I whispered as I planted a soft kiss on her head, and with a quiet sigh, I turned around to leave her to her own peace.

I was just there at the door when I heard her voice, responding back to me with the most reassuring tone I could have ever imagined she'd give me.

"I love you too, baby."

Comfort wrapped around my body, a warm feeling spreading round and quenching the chills that had followed me all day, right from the Hospital and into my Home. I smiled, I couldn't help it.

"You still do?" I asked her, a pitiful hopefulness in my eyes as I turned back around to her, "You still love me, Mum?"

She cackled, a laugh that strained the veins around her bloodshot eyes as that laughter spring free and rich from her. I missed hearing her laugh like that.

"Who said I ever stopped?" She said, shaking her head at me, "You're my baby, Marcus. Everything I do is because I love and care about you. Do you understand that, my love?"

I nodded a little bit too desperately, relief washing through me.

"I need some rest, baby," she told me, "Today's been a long, hard day and I'm pretty exhausted. I have a headache too and I feel a bit weak. But, thank you for the food though. I really appreciate it. I feel a whole lot better after this."

That was all I needed. An assurance that somehow, Mum would be okay. I eventually left the room with a smile on my face.

With hands shoved inside my pocket, I walked down the lane that led to my bedroom, with a dozen thoughts running through my mind. This house, for one, didn't feel the same after the Christmas party, and it wasn't just the negativity that swelled around it with our emotions, something about it just felt uncomfortable.

And it felt like with every turn, I could still sense the heat of bodies around me and the stench of alcohol and vomit as if I were still in the Christmas party. Even though the house has been thoroughly cleaned. It occured to me many times that no matter how hard the house had been cleansed, I could still sense every bit of that day that traumatized me.

I could still remember everything that happened. And I could still relive it, like it was a nightmare. Or my own personal punishment.

Even felt it down to everytime I walked into my room, especially since that window at the corner with glasses that I had broken down was where I remembered holding Dabeluchi in my arms... Of course, before everything went down.

Before everything came crashing down.

I sighed, kicked my loafers to God-knows-where as I headed for the swivel chair on my desk seat, my favorite position since I had learned to stalk down every information I could find on the Internet about a girl who I suspected was Dabeluchi.

However,

Something was off tonight.

It wasn't just the fact that I had forgotten to turn off my electrical appliances or my Laptop before I left the house - a risky move that Mum could have sounded me a dirty slap for - and neither was it the fact that my Macbook's battery hadn't drained down by now; considering the 24-hour electricity we had in the Chambers Estate, that was a very unlikely happening away. So, no, it wasn't any of that that struck out to me.

It was the strange scary sign that flashed against half the screen of my MacBook. It looked like daggers, joined against each other to form an X sign, one that was somehow akin to a 'Danger' sign...

On the screen of my Laptop?

"The hell," I cursed under my breath as I stepped in closer to study the strange symbol, a dozen suspicions running through my mind as I weighed in multiple reasons for this, from the possibilities of my system being hacked to it being contaminated by an undiscovered virus.

Right on top of the symbol in glaring red letters were the words written in threatening, bold letters:

"GHOST."

And maybe it was my curiosity that got the best - or worst - of me because I could not ignore this.

I just couldn't skip this by, especially since that name 'GHOST' rang a bell in my short-term memory, dozen recalls of the articles I had gobbled on previously coming back to me.The same GHOST that the Internet was buzzing about, who had exclusive information on the dead-or-alive girl. The same GHOST who had joined the Right Siders to claim the dead-or-alive girl to be alive, the same GHOST that had even gone as far as digging up proof to support this motion, hacking into the Police records and leaking their reports to show that indeed, the girl was alive and taken away by her 'Family'. The same GHOST that the Police and Authorities were now heavily after, on the grounds of them wrecking havoc ever so anonymously.

This same GHOST somehow found their way to... Me?

Of course, I had to follow this up.

Unsure of what next to do, I moved my hands against the screen of my MackBook and that was all I wanted to do. At the slightest touch, my screen flashed. A bright, blinding light. But, before I had the chance to panic, thinking my MackBook was gone for good, I was immediately redirected to my Gmail. In awe, I watched the screen operate itself, until it scrolled down into my Spam messages and highlighted an Email that shocked me the more I stared at it.

GHOST.

GHOST.

The Email was from an ID, a specially highlighted one that buried itself deep in my spams, with the name reading in bold, clear letters: GHOST.

"The fuck," I stared at my screen for what seemed like an eternity, until it seemed like that the mail started to blink. Like it had sensed that I was spending a little bit too much time staring, when it was rather desperate to be opened.

I had so many questions. So many questions. Like, what the fuck was going on? How does this even happen? Who was this GHOST person and how did they manage to do this to my system? What sort of hacker was this, and what the hell did they want from me of all people? All of a sudden? Me?

Asking questions was not going to get me anywhere until I found out shit myself. Therefore, with shaky fingers, I touched the highlighted mail, daring to open it and see for myself.

NEW EMAIL

GHOST:

"Marcus, right?
Marcus Bruno Acha.
I have been meaning to officially speak with you. Are you willing to give me an ear, maybe?"

Chills ran through me as I stared at the mail in front of me, unsure of how to begin to respond. My eyes couldn't help but revert to the time that it was sent, and I calculated it to understand that while I was there, struggling in the hands of Mrs Ayomide in the hospital, GHOST was busy hitting up my Email.

Anxious, I typed back the only question I had in my head for this anonymous GHOST person.

ME:
"I'm sorry, but who is this?"

Their response speed shocked me. I imagined them, whoever they were, at the edge of their seat, waiting for my response and jumping up to slam into their keyboard in response to my mail the second it dropped.

GHOST:
"Ghost.
I am Ghost."

I frowned, confused and slightly annoyed.

ME:
"And does Ghost have an identity?"

The response came even faster than the last, and I peered into the screen the moment it did. I was already on the edge enough, I needed to know.

GHOST:
"You don't know me.
But, I know you."

Again came that feeling...

The one I had felt in the Hospital earlier, after that accident with that Hooded person. The one that I had knocked a stretcher off of. That feeling of being watched, that feeling of being observed. In the creepiest way, followed too.

ME:
"Is this a joke?"

Apparently, the response made it clear to me that it most definitely was not.

GHOST:

"If addressing you by your full name was not enough, maybe I should download a little more information on you to show you that I mean business, yes?

You're seventeen.
Will be turning eighteen next month on the 19th of February. You have two siblings, a boy and a girl. One is in the League and the other has two children, and congrats on your soon-neice, because your older sister Muna is pregnant with a baby girl and will soon break it to the Family.

Your Father is a Doctor; his name is Solomon Acha. Your mother is called Obianuju Acha, and you, your Mum and your Dad live in the luxurious Chambers Estate. Justice is in the

Marcus, you also go to Castron High. And I must say, your Sports record is quiet impressive and I do feel your father should be more proud of you. You're an Ss3 student, with grades that could make one nod their head impressed, and it's no wonder that you're in Class A, right? Arts Students. You have no idea what you want with your life and you checked Arts instead of Science in Ss1 because you didn't want to do Further Maths and you wanted to do what your best friend was doing.

Oh, sorry, I mean your ex best friend, eight? Sorry about Sean Ayomide though. Today at the Hospital, it must have been so rough for you and your Mum. At least, you had people like Nnaemeka Obi and Chiedozie Ihenna to keep you company. Although, your other ex friend Jeffery Jarah would have really wanted to come too, but I would understand why you'd never want to see him again. After what happened on the Christmas Party last Year. I would cut him off too.

I know your friends. I know your enemies. And bro, I also know your acquaintances. I know you fell out with some of the Igbo Sisters: Chika Chioma, Somadina Best and Ebere Onuoha, a couple of times that same night all because of that girl you love. I am also aware that the Christmas Party was hosted at your house Last Year and a kid, Ghadafi or whatever, was poisoned-"

Blood of Jesus.

My hands repulsed from my MacBook, utterly flabbergasted and mortified.

ME:
"I'm blocking the shit out of you."

And that may have caused a mocking laughter to erupt from this GHOST wherever they were and I knew this, because their next response painted the scenario loud and clear for me.

GHOST:
"You can't block me, Marcus. You cannot restrict or trace this Mail, unfortunately."

ME:
"So, what the hell do you want from me? Why have you been stalking me and keeping tabs on my life, what's my use to you, abeg?"

GHOST:
"Your use to me? Well, that's something only I can determine. Now, listen, I did not come here for chitchat. I came for serious business. I am going to ask you just one simple question. And, depending on your answer to my question, I will decide if you are of any use to me. If I should stay. Or if I should go away."

I stared at this message for what seemed like an eternity, my tension rising by the second as I asked multiple questions concerning the actions I was thinking about taking in that moment.

ME:
"I don't even know you."

GHOST:
"Yet, you waste my bloody time.
Marcus, should I ask you the question or not? It's your call. Tell me to ask, I ask. I access you, then see if you are worth my time or not. Request that I leave, and you will never hear from me or be able to trace me down ever again. Do we have a deal?"

My heart thundered as shaky fingers moved around the keys, typing my response.

ME:
"Only because I think you have some concrete information on a girl I have been looking for.
So, yes, Deal.
Ask me the question."

With never blinking eyes, I stared straight at the screen of my laptop, until the second that the final message dropped.

And it felt like I had seen my own soul leave and enter back into my body as those words flashed all over my screen, with a light that nearly threw me into blindness. Still, I could only reread that email. Over and Over and Over again.

GHOST:
"Do you really want to know about all the the dark secrets that lie in The Valley?"

Oya na. Gbese! #SwallowsCementMixedwithBleachAndOrangeJuice.

I HAVE BEEN ITCHING TO REACH THIS PART SOOOO BAD!! SPILL EVERYTHING ON YOUR MIND! WHO TF IS THIS GHOST AND WHY DO YOU THINK THEY CONTACTED ACHA?! WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY WANT FROM HIM?🥹🤞🏾

EXPECT DABELUCHI'S POV NEXT WEEK SUNDAYYYYYYY.

ALL IN ALL, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER O.🥹❤️🔥