This chapter should have been out since over a month ago, but I guess not everything goes as planned.

There are reasons I've been away this long, there's no use explaining at this point.

But please, enjoy 🥃✨.

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Dedicated to mammizee I saw all your votes and comments. Thank you so much. Laziness and tiredness didn't let me reply, but this chapter is for you ❤️.

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"It's your mind, own it."

❦︎

~[VICTORIA]~

He called it Heaven, this place. Where he had smartly hidden behind a painting of a river bank.

The first time he had unraveled this place, my mouth was hanging open for minutes, I kid you not.

Amazed. Enthralled. Dazzled. None of those words can perfectly describe how I felt walking into this place.

You know how you feel when you see something so beautiful you cannot put it to words, that flutter in your chest that has you envisioning living the rest of your life with that thing— in this case, I was beginning to play out growing old in this place.

And I felt like I understood what Mr. Kenny was feeling when he decided to name this place Heaven.

A soft smile always danced on my lips whenever I stepped in here. And I wouldn't even be aware of when I would release a sigh.

My favourite place was the swing, the one that faced the floor to ceiling window that overlooked the hospital's garden. And from where I was swinging slowly, I could see patients roaming the paths that divided the greenery, some walking on their own and others being pushed on wheelchairs.

Then his voice, deep but soft, floated in my ears. "You deserve it."

From over my shoulder, I peered at him where he was leaned on the white wall. I asked, "deserve what?"

"This peace, everything good." He shrugged. And before I turned to face my front, I caught him pushing himself off the wall.

I deserve this, I repeated in my head and it was when I felt my lips strain that I realized how hard I was smiling.

But as always, there was that voice in my head that would always try to contradict everything, screaming how I wasn't even allowed a spark of happiness for costing my mother her life. Even so, for something as trivial as basketball.

And yet again, I found myself recalling that night again, that night six months ago.

I had frustrated her again, starting my useless talk about wanting to play basketball. I remembered going on my knees that night, begging. She had always screamed it in my face, how I ruined her life. So, I figured that maybe begging till she had no choice could do the trick. Somehow, I thought that I could reach into any kind of empathy she had left, and she would just let go of... whatever I must have done to her.

But I should have known better. Because how could someone who believed I destroyed her life just let go of everything? Just like that? Just because I went on my knees and shed a few tears?

The thing is, I thought she would see my desperation, feel it. That somehow, she would remember that she was still my mother afterall.

But she was hell bent on getting her consolation. Her words, not mine.

She had presented me with two options: study hard, grow to be useful and perhaps, pay her back for the years of her life she had thrown away because of me. Or live with a mother's curse for the rest of my life if I decided to go ahead and chase that stupid sport.

Till this day, I have not been able to comprehend how I made her throw away years of her life, for the simple reason that I did not even ask to be born.

I had refused to pick one, still holding on to the hope that she would somehow see reasons with me. And I was crying like I never had, just from the mere thought of my dreams remaining just that, never materializing into the reality I had envisioned.

It scared me shitless.

But we received a surprise that night: Dad's unexpected return from a trip that was supposed to last a month.

Amidst my adamant pleas, we hadn't heard him walk into the house, both of us completely oblivious of him silently watching us.

It was until she slapped me, so hard that I fell to the side, that I caught him standing behind her.

And for the first time, I saw dangerous things in my father's eyes. I watched him and tales of scary monsters surfaced in my head, my father looked like an angry beast at that moment.

And when he roared her name, I swear, I felt the floors quake. If I was scared of my mother, then—at that moment—my father awakened a new level of trepidation in me.

He took slow but dangerous steps towards her, seething with anger. And it must have taken every bit of self control in him to talk as calmly as he did.

"Leave this place or, I swear, I will do something very stupid."

All the while his fists were clenched, like he was just about ready to land a brutal punch on her nose. And she knew it too, because without a word, she walked out of the house. Not without sending me a look of absolute disdain though.

I released a ragged breath when she shut the door. And soon enough, Dad was crouching before me, examining the bruise that must have formed on my cheek.

He regarded me with his honey eyes, soft orbs filled with concern, a contrast to the beast that just roared a few seconds ago. And then, he blinked and something new showed itself in his eyes: guilt. I felt it from his heavy sigh, how it weighed down his chest.

It had always been there, even before Mom died, that guilt that occasionally flashed in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He had whispered, kissed my forehead and lifted me from the floor. "I'm so sorry."

Within me, I wondered what he was apologizing for. But I was too weak to ask, too drained to speak. I just nestled my face in the crook of his neck and gave in to sleep.

Only to wake up the following morning to hear that Mom was in a coma, how she had collided with a trailer as she drove in the thunderstorm.

"It's a miracle she's still alive." The doctor had told Dad and I.

But that miracle didn't last long. She was gone two days later. And I remembered not being able to shed a single tear, not even at her funeral.

As I watched her coffin being lowered to the ground, that was when those voices began. They came like whispers, attacking my conscience.

You caused this, I had choked on that realization.

You should have just been the daughter she wanted.

Things would have gone so differently, she wouldn't have had to drive out that night.

And it was on that spot that I decided that I would no longer play basketball. I had made that internal resolution, firstly, to honour her memory, and secondly, the real reason, to ease my conscience.

But just look how easily I had abandoned that decision when I arrived at SLI, barely two weeks when Jason asked, "do you do any sport?" and I, without hesitation, responded that I played basketball.

Like playing in secret while she was alive wasn't enough, I was dishonouring her memory by doing that very thing she didn't want me to do.

That reason alone multiplied the weight in my chest by a thousand, and for months, I felt like the most useless daughter a person could ask for. Like she was unfortunate to have borne a child like me.

It took a few snaps of his fingers for Mr. Kenny to pull me back into awareness. I looked up to see his familiar gentle smile.

"Earth to Einstein." He mused, chuckled. "Doing it again, aren't you?"

I shook my head shyly, dropped my gaze to my fingers.

"By leaving you to your thoughts, I didn't mean you had to visit the past and search for every possible way to weigh yourself down." He stuffed his pockets with his hands, tilted his head. "You hear?"

I scoffed playfully, rolled my eyes. "And you say you're not a mind reader."

"I'm not," he laughed. "You're literally about to cry."

"No, I'm no—" I paused when I felt wetness at the corner of my eye.

"Look, Einstein," he stooped so that he was within my gaze. "What do I tell you?"

"Not every thought in my head is mine."

"And?"

"I should not believe everything they say."

"Especially those ones that torment you, disturb your peace." He interlinked his fingers. "It's your mind, own it."

I nodded, holding his gaze. "It's just that, sometimes I cannot help but reason what would have happened if I had just stayed quiet that night."

"You were simply asking to do what you love. Nothing you did was wrong, Einstein." He was saying this for like the thousandth time. "Her leaving the house was a result of her actions, not yours."

Again, I nodded.

And then, he added, "she didn't deserve to be a mother. What she put you through was both physical and emotional abuse."

I opened my mouth to defend her, to say that at least, she didn't abuse me in any way. But I had scars that told a different story, the memories of nights I had cried myself to sleep didn't let me say a word in contrary.

And even when she died, that very moment when I heard that she was dead, I felt... relieved. And then immediately felt horrible for it.

"But you have overcome." He continued, and I could feel the happiness oozing off of him, happiness for me. "And you will continue to do just that. Right, Einstein?"

I held his gaze for a moment, something was sizzling in my chest. Faith, hope, even joy. And with my chest puffed, I responded with the widest smile ever, "right."

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Even the scorching sun couldn't bother me at that moment. All the while, as I waited for Dad at the corner of the parking lot, I kept on repeating one thing in my head: I deserve this peace.

And even those voices in my head now sounded almost inaudible from the way I screaming it within. For the first time ever, I fought them and won. It felt like winning a battle, really. Like I had gone with just a stone and taken down a giant, like David.

I felt... free.

My eyes darted to the left when I heard a car pull into the lot. And I would have looked away if it didn't look so familiar.

It looked like Tracy's car...

But the number plate didn't have the TEE_1010 Tracy's own proudly displayed. Instead, it was a mix of random numbers and letters.

The Tesla settled perfectly in a spot and I, in all my curiosity, stood there, waiting to see if it would be Tracy that would emerge from the vehicle.

I don't know what I felt when it was a curly haired dude that came out; disappointment or relief, I wasn't sure. I couldn't even see him properly, given the distance and the bright sun. So, I shrugged off whatever the feeling was and settled for wishing that Dad would arrive soon.

I fought the urge to look up as the stranger's footsteps became more and more prominent, like he was wearing a pair of Thanos's freaking boots.

And then, like he owned the land, he inquired, "what are you doing here?"

I may have forced my eyes to stay low, pretend like I didn't hear anything. But this stranger... he had Jason's voice. And I couldn't even control the way my head snapped up, my eyes meeting inquisitive grey ones.

At that point, I wasn't even surprised when I found myself unable to freaking inhale. His eyes, they had a way of ceasing my breath.

He tilted his head, as if to get a better view of my face, and then he raised a brow. "I thought we called a truce, Kanayo?"

"Uh... um— ye—" I cleared my throat, forced air into my lungs. "Yes, we did."

"Well, it feels like you're ignoring me." He crossed him arms, frowned slightly. "I don't like it."

"No—" I paused, taking the time to calculate my words. How was I supposed to explain to him that his eyes somehow caused my brain to malfunction? I couldn't even explain to myself why I wanted to reach out to smoothen that little crease in his forehead.

This is weird, I noted within me. So damn weird.

"I was just... wondering the same thing. Why are you here?" Of course, my defense had to be the classic turn of tables.

At first, he stared at me with pursed lips, his little frown still on. Then he exhaled, shoulders dropped a little as he responded, "I have an appointment."

"Oh?" Again, I was desperately trying to fight another urge; this time, it was the one to feel his temperature. So, I clenched my fists by my sides, and asked, "you're sick?"

"Um..." His shrugged. "Something like that."

"I pray you recover soon, then." I tried to give what I thought would be a kind smile, but I just knew I looked like a bloated fish at that moment. You know Mrs. Puffs from SpongeBob? Yeah, I was definitely twinning her.

"Thanks." The boy actually gave a thumbs up.

Things had gotten pretty awkward, so darn weird that I was almost convinced I was having a stupid dream. And the thick silence that fell upon us wasn't even helping matters.

Neither of us had anything more to say. And he, for some reason, wasn't moving along to his doctor's appointment.

Instead, he took two slow steps and then sat beside me on the bench. I wanted to run, dive into the ground, or even just disintegrate. Anything to get away from that sickening awkwardness.

"Is that why you're here too?" His question had me turning to face him. "You're sick too?"

"Something like that." I couldn't help the joke, it was out before I could even think.

It started as a little vibrations of his shoulders, his laughter, and then it erupted as a rich, deep sound from his lips.

Lively, inviting; two words I never thought I would associated with Jason Ugonna.

He looked like a stranger you would want to smile at in the street, or even mumble a greeting to.

And I didn't even realize I had joined in the fit until he abruptly paused and I was left to be laughing alone.

He still had a little smile on though, one that lit up his eyes, made them look more like soft rain clouds instead of thunderstorms.

He watched me keenly, observing my face like he was trying to commit it to memory. My neck had suddenly gone stiff, guys. I couldn't turn away for the life of me.

And somewhere within me, I decided that I liked his eyes when he wasn't glaring a freaking hole in my head.

They reminded me of the rain, and I simply liked the—

A horn blared and we were both shaken back to earth. It was when I involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath that I realized that I was, yet again, not breathing properly.

Perhaps, his eyes should be adopted as a method of execution or something.

I blinked rapidly as my gaze settled on Dad's Audi in the distance, I was still in a haze from... whatever that was.

I got up and dusted off invisible dust off my butt. It was only smart that I avoided eye contact with the boy as I mumbled my goodbye. And I was literally running away from him as soon as he responded.

As I settled in the passenger's seat of Dad's car, I tried to shut down that part of me that wanted to go back and sit there with him.

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A/N

So, guys, how far?

It would be like the thousandth time if I say it again that I'll try to be more consistent, ba?

Well, I'll keep trying. And I wouldn't mind if y'all would put me in your prayers. Strength, help me pray for strength.

The next chapter is in progress and I will do my best for it not to take another two months to update.

So, see y'all there, I guess.

I love you guys.
Stay safe ❤️.