I was drowning. It was dark. I was all alone. Falling, into the endless abyss. And yet all I could think of was one thing.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

I knew it. Down in my heart that something was wrong. That I needed to stand up. Get out. But my strength failed me.

Then I heard a voice. Your voice. Calling. Pulling. Waking me up from my sleepless slumber.

'I got you.'

Just one statement made the difference. Because it proved to me that I finally found my place.

Right beside you.

⚜

Maybe it was because of the strong smell of Izal mixed with a lavender air freshener in the air, or it was the subtle beeping sound that rang in my eye. Or it was the heaviness and sense of sick familiarity, but i knew where I was even though I wasn't conscious.

"Ma'am we have given her some meds to calm her down but I am afraid it is more serious than we thought it was."

Somehow I was asleep but more awake than ever. It was like I was standing  with them in that room. Watching, listening. I felt my spirit levitate in the room. Like I was everywhere and nowhere. Or maybe it was just the meds creating my own illusion

"What is the problem biko?"

Aunty Nene? She was here! Suddenly I could see her, or imagine her face. Her worry, her fear. I knew what fear felt like but worry was still a strange emotion for me and even stranger that someone felt it on my behalf.

"So we checked her medical report and I would like to ask if she is going for any type of psychotherapy."

"Psycho-gini. Biko kwuo uche. Psycho what again? What is wrong with her that she will be doing psycho." 

I almost laughed even in my unconsciousness but I knew that tone very well. She was confused and afraid. She knew I had issues but I'm sure she never knew just how much. Some how I knew she would be regretting bringing me here now. Away with the problem child.

"Ma'am I know you are confused but everything is okay. Let's go to my office and talk."

I could feel my aunt's tension even before she spoke. It was like my sleep state gave me spidey senses and I could feel everything.

"Doctor Chika no vex o but anything you want to say abeg say it here."

"Are you sure ma?"

"1000 and 1 percent."

The silence in the room was very loud, I could almost hear their heartbeats .

"So I checked her medical records. Depression, anxiety, ptsd, sleep disorders, agitation, the list is very long and all this symptoms point to one thing."

For the first time I understood what the doctor was saying. I always underestimated Nigerian professionals because of the stereotype that nobody ever does anything right, so I never expected anyone to know. I never knew I would be exposed this way. At that minute I wanted to jump out of that bed. I couldn't let her tell that to Aunt Nene. The last person that showed any type of humane feelings towards me. If she said anything it would be over, and I would not be her lovely niece any more but dirty, rotten Chrise.

"I'm sorry but all this grammar you are speaking is just confusing me the more. Abeg what exactly do you mean biko?"

"Ma, your daughter has been sexually harassed and from her reports I assume it was more than once. I'm sorry there is no nice way to say this."

I thought the world ended when those words came out of her mouth because unconsciously I have deleted them, pretended that it didn't happen. Like it was just a bad dream but in truth all i did was get better at lying to myself.

But the world really ended when I heard my aunt scream. Like the number of times she says Jesus will delete all those memories and pain. Like God will really forbid it and not let it happen while watching from wherever he may be. Then her cries broke me, letting loose all pain and shame I felt. Reminding me of everything the little girl I once knew lost.                                        

                 ⚜                  

I was in the pink dress my grandma got me on my twelfth birthday. The smell of wet grass and over seasoned rice, the echoes of a tambourine, the beautiful rays of gold fell on my skin. 

Uncle Tickle Tickle is here.

I could hear laughter, loud and clear, deep and resonating in the air. It came from me but felt so foreign yet familiar. Like a child that has been away for so long back is back to where it belongs.

Home.

Then I was the whistling wind, with my barefoot on the heating sand, but I couldn't stop the childish giggles that fell, or my heart beating with a tempo of a talking drum. 

Tum tum. Tum tum.

I imagined I was Maria in The sound of Music, dancing and singing on that hill. Running towards my favorite things. That was where I was going.

You have been a good girl. 

I felt it before i saw it. No something was wrong. 

"You have been a good girl." The voice caused my skin to burn. Like a million ants where about to bury me alive and crawl into my heart. I felt it eating me up and Tearing me apart. Those huge black hands on my skin, on my pink dress. I needed to get out of here. I needed...

"Chrise! Chrise wake up!"

I slowly opened my eyes that felt like it was going through a bad acupuncture and the first thing that I saw was a gaze so strong looking into my eyes like it was the window to my soul. Like he knew and I was completely naked before him. 

"You are bleeding." I noticed his shirt was stained with his blood as it raced down his arms. Then I looked at my hands. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to.."

"It's fine." Zuby's voice wasn't the calm and cocky one anymore. It was hoarse, like the words were tapioca balls stuck in an obviously smaller plastic straw, the harder you try to get it out, the more uncomfortable you look. His grey eye looked darker now, like it was saying the words he couldn't voice out. I knew that look. It was the one the made me tremble and sick at night, it was the one which made me place my head in a bucket a scream till lose my voice. It made me heart Zumba dance and my body freeze in the hottest night.

Fear. He was afraid. Of what?

He knew. At that moment I saw it in his eyes. I wasn't just imagining it, he could see me. All of me and there was no place to hide.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to provoke you. I should have stopped when you told me to." His face was covered in regret.

I tried to smile but my head felt like the birth place of Athena and I just gave him a reassuring tap instead. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

Somehow I wanted to be left alone. I didn't know how  much he knew or how he did but having someone else know so much about me made me wanted to run. To anywhere. Home, the US even back to Amanda. Any place but in front of this boy that looked like he was about to cry for me. 

"You were right. I'm a fake. I pretend like I don't care what people think about me but honestly that's all I think about. I knew I didn't spread the lie about myself but I was grateful for it and did nothing to change it. My dad is a drunk and who doesn't only go about sleeping and beating up different woman but only the only thing he has to his name is a fifteen year old okada, an I-pass-my neighbor generator and seven million naira debt." I didn't understand why he was telling me this but honestly i was only partially listening. His eyes were telling me a different story all along. 

"My mom cleans peoples houses for a living, works as a primary school teacher with only a WAEC certificate and I was actual born out of wedlock. So my deadbeat father, isn't exactly my father." He gave a fake laughter and for the first time took his eyes away from mine. "My junior brother is diabetic and will probably live on medication we can't afford for the rest of his life. We are the charity everyone talks about. Everything we have was donated by someone who was tired or too full to have it."

"Why are you telling me this?" My voice sounded like a broken whisper.

He smiled a looked at me. "I can't pretended to understand what you went through and I know it's nothing compared to my stupid sob story but I want you to know that I will never say anything to anyone. So now you have mine, I can be your hostage. Do with this information however you see fit." He gave a nervous chuckle.

My gaze was still at his face. For the first time I understood how artists got obsessed with their muses. I could see him in a painting. In acrylic and water colors, water color will be my favorite. And as if the artist made a last decision, he dabbed his brush in blue paint and touched one of his eyes. Earthen grey and icy blue. Contradictions, just like the boy who was sitting beside my bed.

"Why are you not saying anything?"

So I was back to the hospital room, away from my weird imagination. "What is I-pass-my-neighbor?" I was really curious, and it was also a better way to avoid telling him i just daydreamed of painting him. There was no way that conversation would have been okay. 

He raised his brows as his face went through the spectrum of confusion and amusement. "After everything I said, that was what stuck to you?"

"Well, it's a weird name."

Then he laughed. His laughter reminded me of cocoa. Dark, rich, beautiful and alive. Then I laughed, even though my head was having a tug of war, the euphoric echoes of glee couldn't stop it self from coming out of my tiny mouth.

"You're a weird person, Zina. A very weird one." 

Zina. That name again. I wanted to tell him to stop it and call me Chrise but somehow I liked it. Zina. Like the warrior princess. Maybe she can lend me her strength to breathe again. And maybe I can slay the dragons and gods that threaten to steal my happiness. And I will live happily ever after.

Maybe.