Utianle

Grey skies drifted above me, I crossed my arms around my legs, touching my chin to my knees as my body swayed gently. Cold gushed into the room through the missing part of the ceiling and the chill air stung my skin.

I shivered and tightened my arms around myself, at least it wasn't raining. It might. My eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness of this suffocating cubicle as my nose was already muffled by the smell of the prison.

Prison.

How did it come to this?

Images, scenes leading up to the moment the blackness took over snuck up on me. I shoved them to the back of my mind. If I was faster, that baby killer would have been six feet under by now. Dead. Gone. I should have gotten one shot, pulled that stupid trigger. I had only one job to do. Maybe two. End him and end me. But I rambled until the end.

Pain slithered through my veins, my heart squeezed and my breath came out in short rasps as I stared into the darkness, this cage I was banished to. The throbbing in my neck returned, I massaged the spot on my nape to rid me of the stiffness caused by whatever they used to stab me. If I wasn't talking too much, I might have heard the footsteps, felt the fat needle before it pierced my neck.

I missed my chance to see my baby. I should have taken that killer's life, then mine. What was the point of living without my baby?

The back of my eyes burned with tears forbidden from falling, I rocked from side to side. I wanted my baby. I swiped the back of my hand against my runny nose, the sky rumbled and the image of a certain man popped into my mind. How would he feel?

Was he coming?

Shooting to my feet, I paced the dark room. My fingers ran along the wall to guide my movements. The contact with a cold metal hit me with a realisation, my hands closed around the bars of the cell and a heavy feeling settled in my chest. A pitiful scream left my lips. I banged the door, shouted as hard as a woman who lost her baby could and was rewarded with a resounding sound.

Minutes had passed since that phone call, it could have been hours. Time didn't matter here. I should have called Faith instead, she might get upset but she would have gotten me out of here immediately. Where was he? I got only one chance to make a call, he had to be here, I needed to leave. What would I say to him? Esther? What would he do? I pushed away from the door. This was his fault too.

He put the idea of a birthday party in my baby's mind. Now, Samia lived and he didn't.

In the middle of the room, I took a long look at the sky and my lips curled into a sadistic smile when the first drops of water touched my forehead. No roof meant no protection from the rain but what did it matter? I loved the rain and what better way to punish me than with what I loved? If I was lucky, the room would be flooded in a few minutes and I might die of a cold before King arrived to facilitate a bail. I shouldn't have called him.

A sob escaped me, I crumpled to the ground like a useless sheet of paper and curled into a foetal position. My hand slid to my chest, I couldn't feel it anymore-my heart ceased to beat. He took my baby yet he lived, breathed. I was here because of him, he should also be dead. Why didn't I pull the trigger? My gaze flickered to the sky, the clouds that slowly morphed into the shape of Emma's face.

Bad mummy.

His lips pulled into a straight line to conceal his missing front teeth, I willed him to smile but his eyes narrowed. There was no trace of love in those eyes nor the usual innocence associated with my baby boy, only hate, anger and accusation. I shook my head as another wave of pain nearly blinded me.

I'm not a bad mummy.

If I was, I wouldn't have allowed him to go to the party. I wouldn't have even volunteered to drive him. But if I hadn't done any of that, he would have been alive. Still, that didn't make me a bad mother. Maybe it did. I should have been more rigid, unmoved by his tears. He would have been here with us in our small, happy family. But I let myself get carried away by his tears. Tears I was unused to.

His voice rang louder in my head, I plugged my fingers into my ears and squeezed my eyes tight to forget the image of him on the sky. I did the right thing by driving him, it was for his comfort. A good mother would try to please her children. Their happiness came first. A happy child meant a happy mother.

Bad mummy.

I'm not a bad...

Kids cried all the time. They threw tantrums to get their way, I should have been stronger than that. I should have discouraged King from putting ideas into his small head. The little one easily attached himself to King and I let it happen. I encouraged it. I was always overcompensating for his lack of a figure figure and now he would never get to throw another tantrum, see King and Esther again.

I'm not a...

Scenes raced in my head, my vision blurred and my eyes burned with my unshed tears. I should have done more for him when the car crashed. I should have protected him with my life, jumped to the backseat instead of thinking only about myself and safety.

It should have been me in that backseat, the one who wasn't recieving oxygen to his brain. He was my responsibility and I failed him. I dared to fall unconscious amidst his cries for help so why should King come for me now? Why should anyone bail me out of this shitty hellhole. It was my turn to suffer.

I'm a bad mummy.

Everything happening now was punishment for my sins. For being a bad parent. When was the last time I was a proper parent to Esther? Whoever stabbed me in the neck should have killed me, pushed that needle into my heart so it would stop beating.

I'm a bad mother.

This was not the life I envisioned for myself and I refused to go on without him. My heart hurt too much, the hole created by his absence could never be filled. Why did it have to be my baby? He didn't do anything wrong. He was a good boy, so full of life. He didn't deserve to die. He should still be here.

I raised my head at the sound of footsteps, a chill ran through me and my teeth chattered. It should have rained, not this measly drizzle that only wetted my clothes. I had to feel it too. The pain he experienced until he left us.

The cold had me shivering, I got up slowly as light flooded the room. Raising a hand to my face to shield me from the harsh rays of his torchlight, he beckoned on me and my feet carried me to the door. The smell of tobacco hit me once I neared him, I coughed and he let out a hiss, murmuring under his breath.

Keys rattled as he fiddled with the padlock, I hesitated when the door opened. I should rejoice but this didn't feel like freedom. If he was freeing me, then it could only mean King was here. Baby daddy came for me.

But I didn't want to see him.

The walk down the corridor was in silence, his torchlight illuminated our path, showed off the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, the chipping yellow paint. I might have given anything to have a conversation with this man, to have someone distract me from my thoughts. We burst out into a well lit corridor, I squinted and quickened my pace when the warder threw me a backward glance. I had only been here a few hours but it felt longer and now my eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness. A brightness that faded once I saw King and his friends at the counter.

Tomiwa saw me first, he tapped King and his head jerked in my direction. Questions swam in his eyes, he looked away to discuss with the policemen behind the counter while the other one helped me with my belongings. My feet refused to move when the policemen proclaimed me free to go. Maybe it was his silence, the way King's eyes roamed over me without closing the distance or the not-so-subtle looks his friends gave me.

Everyone was here. Everyone except Umar and Faith. And those pair of eyes trying woefully to be subtle did something to me.

My insides churned. Bile rose to my throat. The policeman nearest to me nudged me with a smile that showed off pristine teeth. I took one step forward and another until I was in front of the counter, no longer behind it. None of them bridged the gap between us, they stared and stared until my whole body screamed from being the object of their scrutiny. I had no business with the others except King but he looked the most shocked, eyes wide open like he was seeing a ghost.

"Make una dey go o," somebody said behind us and it broke us all from our spell. "Go abeg."

King inched closer. He stopped in front of me and shoved his hands into his pockets but I had already seen them. The slight tremors, the fear he quickly masked.

"Hey," he said.

We didn't hug. He didn't make any move to, neither did I. "Hi," I whispered and cleared my throat. "Hi." His lips twitched. "You came."

An emotion crept into his eyes, an emotion so raw I was forced to look down at my feet. I didn't put that look in there, it couldn't be me. The floor swayed under me, that odd feeling from earlier returned and I could taste the bile rushing up my mouth. My body shook, I tried to steady myself but it was too late. I was falling. Falling into the darkness.

*****

This chapter was inspired by my younger sister's experience. One time, she was wrongly arrested and they put her in a cell without a roof. It was rainy season, she was in a thin dress and I remember her telling me she kept looking up to the sky to know if it would rain. But it didn't, thankfully.

Q: Have you had any encounter with the police?