Regular.

If there was anything on the planet that I hated more than waiting, then, my God, it just had to be that damned eight-letter word.

Ironic and hypocritical, one may be bluntly opinionated, because, despite that, no better word in the entire Oxford dictionary was capable of describing in perfect clarity the life of a girl like Leilani Sopuruchi Ijeh.

Oh, um, if that was not clear enough, that's me.

And well, as a matter of fact, asides from the fact that I consistently, from time to time, feel like I am living in some parallel world somewhere where I have to recite the awful and boring details of my life to some unfortunate listening souls somewhere, bless them, I believe it was fairly safe to conclude that even after about nineteen years of my existence, my life could not possibly get even more 'regular' than it was.

We could skip the boring part where I tell everyone how I am some regular girl in her late teens from a regular family living somewhere in some regular place like Lekki East, simultaneously, a regular student at a regular university in the country, living a regular life, and working part-time as a regular freelancer for some regular company I had never seen.

Yeah, that sort of thing. We could skip that part and go straight to the part of my 'regular life' that perturbed me more than any other.

My looks.

Now, relax okay? Chill, your blood is too hot.

I know what you're probably thinking right now, and hell the fuck no, believe me, the last thing I am going to do is come on here to go all 'Wattpad perfect blonde who thinks she's ugly', neither would I start some long boring list of my 'stunning' physical qualities—something that I could bet my left boob that about ninety percent of you would most likely skip reading anyway,  but I would go ahead to tell you, instead, what I wished I looked like.

For starters, anything, but regular.

I wished to look like an African Queen. Now, don't sleep on me, abeg, just hang on there for a little bit more. I mean it. I have been told that I have a wild imagination, and from time to time, I envision myself as being beautiful enough to turn men to stone.

And of course, without literal snakes on my head — that would be way too extra. But, I mean, it would not have hurt to be the realistic definition of a dark-skinned beauty goddess.

It would not hurt to drip class and glory everywhere that I stepped foot into, with skin that popped with a stunning, absolutely remarkable, and even scarring glow of melanin. One that blinded people with its exotic shine and blinding charcoal glint.

I wanted to have the ability to cause a wave of confusion with hair as thick and full like the mane of a lion, kinky as it should be too, the most stunning afro that anyone could have even imagined could exist.

And with my eyes, hazel and clear, I wanted to look deep into the souls of people who looked at me, before snatching it right out of them.

I also wished I stood with my spine straighter and my head more upright, exuding the confidence that stood out with the royalty of an Egyptian Queen.

I wanted regality to spur out of every single pore of my skin instead of sweat, and I wanted to have an aura that was able to captivate, choke, hell, even kill anyone who had the audacity to stand face to face with such unreal beauty.

See? I wanted to be beauty to die for. Just like Hadiza. But no, Leilani Ijeh was only regular.

That was one of the reasons why I had made it a life mission to make sure that my real life could be as fascinating as the one that I fantasized about in my head. And maybe, I couldn't change my looks. Unfortunately. But I could change my life. I could mold my life into everything that I ever wished it could be. Anyone could.

However, just a week ago or maybe two, I had gotten some news that sucked to digest. Apparently, my application to join the YWA, the Young Writers Association of Nigeria was rejected coldly, and when I had insisted on knowing the reason why, they said a bunch of long bs that all balled down to the fact that they did not think I was 'good enough'.

"Well, it's their loss," I had said to myself, comforting myself in the fact that I did not, as a matter of fact, care.

That was a whopping lie, though. It hurt a lot that I could not get into the association that was going to be a starting point for the actualization of all my dreams of revolutionizing the Nigerian Movie Industry, and I was only deceiving myself that I couldn't care less.

Well, needless to say, aside from being so imaginative, if there was any other talent I had, it had to be 'deceiving myself'.

Imagine being passionate about something that keeps hurting you over and over, and you will grasp the concept of my bond with this Writing thing.

So many disappointments I had to face in its name and to be honest, there was always that lingering fear inside me that, maybe, I may fail at life and be stuck living that 'regular' life, and that was why every chance I got at getting my hands busy, I got it.

Anything to make me feel less productive. Anything to make me believe less that I was threading towards that 'regular life'.

Like now, for example, I could be cooking up a new plot idea that would impress the YWA this time around. I could be doing absolutely anything else aside from sitting in apt idleness on the old, slightly broken down and decrepit pavements outside my family duplex, waiting for my best friend to come and pick me up.

Waiting. I hated waiting. It made me feel idle. I hated feeling idle too.

I had to remind myself that it was my little brother's birthday today and everything I did on that note was not a waste, because it was all for him and him alone.

So, I garnered more patience, and sat there in idleness, waiting for my best friend, kicking the stones on the sandy ground beneath my feet while staring aimlessly all around the neighbourhood all around me.

Lekki East, where I lived, was the slightly less developed part of the city, and even though it was not as fancy and flamboyant as the Crown, it sure was not such an awful place to live.

In my opinion, it complimented nature more, with more trees that stood at the sides of the houses on the estates like guards, green grasses that grew at the sides of the pedestrian walks and around the bad pavements outside the houses, and there was a homely, more warming feel to it as all the people of the neighbourhoods seemed more connected.

Unlike Lekki Crown which was quiet and more reserved at most times, East was louder, maybe more ghetto, but the streets were usually more packed with teen kids, more or less my age, playing games like football and ten-ten, as well as lingering pure water wraps, reckless okada drivers, and poor refuse dump sites.

Right before my eyes were a bunch of little kids who seemingly had no parents as they had been let stray for the past half an hour I had been waiting here, running around and playing with each other, rolling across the bare roads, completely oblivious to the fact that they could get crushed by some incoming truck.

Not too long ago, some local sellers had tried to get me to get some clothes from them too. Two girls that didn't look too far from my age, selling some nice clothes that I could have sworn I had seen on IG some days ago, a pretty turtle neck off shoulder shirt, with colour as sharp as neon green.
Something I would have bought if not for the fact that I asked for the price and these thieves opened their mouths to tell me twenty-k.

When I was not Dangote's side chick.

It sure was a busy Saturday today, that was all I could think. And all I wanted to do was get on with the rest of the day at least.

So, you can imagine my pure relief when that Okada man swerved his way to the front of my family house. Of course, I did not appreciate the fact that he nearly collided with me as I sat on the pavement, but I forgot to rant or curse at him when I saw my best friend, rushing down from the bike hurriedly and impatiently.

She was here. Hadiza was here.

Quickly, I jumped to my feet and raced to her before she even got to me, making sure to slip in a hundred naira note to the driver who sped off the moment he took it and Hadiza climbed down his machine.

Hadiza made her way towards me with a little rush in her steps, a hand holding onto the hem of her long dark dress, an action that helped her move efficiently, while the other hand effectively held onto her hijab, enabling it to stay in place as she hurriedly made her way towards me.

Out of context, but she looked like a damsel in distress.

Granted that Hadiza was the spitting image of the girl I wanted to look like, with dark full afro hair she shielded most of the time with her hijab, dark, pretty skin that slapped to look at it, and hazel clear eyes that glowed like precious ancient stones, she was easily the prettiest girl I had ever seen.

However, in life, no one could have it all. Not even Hadiza Musa.

"I waited for you for so long," I said to her once she reached me with an apologetic look on her face.

I tried. I tried my best and God knows I did. I tried my best to hide the frustration in my voice, but somehow, it couldn't help but show itself with the slight edge of tone to my voice and the harsh movements my hands emulated in a bid to communicate efficiently with her.

With remorse on her pretty flawless face, Hadiza's hands moved back to me in response, immediately, forming shapes and signs with speedy efficiency, and quickly, I was able to read via the movement of her fingers that she was offering an apology.

"It's okay," I pinched the air while sticking up three fingers, "Let's just go to the Bakery."

She was quick to read my fingers and with a quick nod, she moved with me hurriedly.

Well, as I said, no one could have it all. Hadiza, my best friend, had the beauty of a thousand goddesses, and with one look at her, anyone would have wished to be her.

Unfortunately, my best friend had a condition. She had not been able to speak since she was born. Hadiza Musa was born nineteen years ago, a mute.

That fact often made me feel bad for her. I learned how to use sign language because of her and through our conversations, it was obvious that Hadiza could hold a conversation. Her humour was unmatched. Sometimes, too, I wished she could speak.

Our stop was the Bakery. Together, Hadiza and I found a bike, and we were on our way. My younger brother turned seven years old today and he insisted on Chocolate, even though I would have preferred Vanilla, but it was Little Sam's day and not mine after all. So, if he wanted a Chocolate Cake, then it shall be so.

So far so good, the Bakery didn't seem so bad. I knew not what to have even expected, but it was my first time coming in there and I had no expectations, really, but they sure knew how to stack some really good-looking cakes on display from the outside.

The interiors were just as sweetly aesthetic. The walls were white and clean, with cake shelves that looked like they were made of glass, clear and transparent enough to get a great view of all the assortments of cake, ranging from Chocolate to Vanilla to Red Velvet, all around the place.

However, the first thing that hit me as soon as I walked here was that rich aroma of vanilla and cream that easily found its way to my nose and tingled my olfactory senses, instantly making me forget everything that triggered me on the way down here, starting from that arrogant big-headed Okada driver to that disgusting Lekki East Traffic that nearly had us on the road for half an hour.

"Good afternoon, we are here to pick up the Chocolate Cake that we ordered," That was me to the guy on the first counter that Hadiza and I had walked in on.

The boy, or guy, as I believed he was in his early twenties if I wasn't mistaken, was quick to acknowledge my order and quickly adjusting the dark hoodie he wore over his work uniform, he alerted my presence to the others who worked efficiently to get what I wanted.

I noticed that he couldn't do without playing with that dark hoodie of his as he talked to the other ladies that were going at my order, and as I watched him fondle the hem of it between his fingers, I was quick to spot that that was some sign of anxiety from him.

And as adorably that appealed to me, he got me staring at him and that dark hoodie that he couldn't get his hands off from, without a stop, and for a long, long time.

It was a Nike Hoodie. I noticed the brand mark on the top left side of it, and I was literally about to ask him how much he had gotten it for.

"Hold on. It'll only take a little while," He said to me with a warming smile on his dark face and I nodded, moved away to sit and wait by the benches at the corner with my best friend, Hadiza.

We may have been there for about five minutes before my ringtone blasted out to ruin the peace of the atmosphere, startling both me and Hadiza.

I hissed in clear frustration when I looked to the caller ID to discover it was my Mother, calling. I rolled my eyes because I knew exactly why they were calling me. By 'they', I mean she and my Dad. There was no way my father was not standing there at that moment, by my Mum somewhere at home, scowling just as hard as she was, waiting for me to pick up the phone so they could scold me together.

"Excuse me," I said to Hadiza with a sigh, before stepping out of the bakery.

I just knew why my parents were calling me, and as a matter of fact, it came off to me as no shock when I got out, and answered the call, only to have my Mum's voice screaming through my phone so loud that it was a miracle my eardrums did not shatter on the spot.

"Where have you been?!" My mother shrieked.

"Is it because of just one cake you want to disappear? Do you know how worried we are about you!" My father followed suit, his voice thundering.

I rolled my eyes so hard that they could have gotten stuck at the back of my head.

Mum and Dad were extremely overprotective of me. Ironic how I was going to turn twenty in a few weeks, yet they would cry, whine, and have a mental breakdown every time I wanted to step foot outside the house. They basically caged me in the house, even at my big age.

Wow. Regular Nigerian Parents, too.

And boy, they had no chills. They couldn't even wait to catch their breath as they both simultaneously screamed at me and I let them because interrupting them would have been a waste of my bloody time.

I could say I was used to my parents being this paranoid. They were the reasons Hadiza was my only friend because they never let me socialize and last night when I tried to test their reception and ask if I should have a party at home for the neighbourhood kids, my Mum choked on fish bone and nearly died.

All Hadiza and I wanted was to meet those two fine boys that moved across to the Neighborhood. Asides, from the fact that we wanted more friends from our neighbourhood, we also wanted to get a chance to talk to 'Fine' and 'Finer' too.

However, that wasn't a possibility because my parents would not have it. This 'caging nature' was one of the reasons I looked forward to leaving this country. I knew they'd be more willing to give me freedom if I was abroad, somewhere less dangerous than the ghetto streets of Lekki East.

But our plans of leaving the country were suspended until the next two years. By then, I'd be twenty-one and Little Sam would be nine. Until then, I had two years to suck it all up with my overprotective parents.

"There was Traffic on the way," I calmly tried to explain it to them as they practically shouted over my head, and my feet threaded carefully on the pedestrian walk outside the Bakery, the ones by the busy and reckless road of cars and trucks, "Me and Hadiza are already at the Bakery and they asked us to wait because they are getting the cake. I will come back home soon, so don't worry about me; I will come back safely."

Screech!

Boom!

Plat!

"OLUWA JESUS!"

Someone had shrieked in horror at the very top of their lungs, a sound that made me feel like my soul had jumped out of my body for a mini-second, and before I could utter a word, I felt my body literally throw itself like a ragdoll into the nearby bushes by the pedestrian walk, in a quick, speedy-flash bid to escape the black car that had whooshed past me in a breeze, having me escape being crushed to mush by it by the iota of a second.

It had hit me slightly. Not enough to permanently harm me, but enough to nearly dislocate my left ankle, and as I shuffled in the bushes that I had jumped into, the screams and shouts all around me, the deafening shrieks of horror all around me were morphing slowly, intensifying the screeching noise in my head until it was almost unbearable and I struggled to get out of the bushes while pressing my hands to my head in pain.

"What's that noise?" I frowned in discomfort as I crawled out of the bushes, squealing as the screeching noise got worse and as soon as I felt the grass on the pedestrian walk, I sat on it and pressed my hands so hard to my ears, nearly compressing my head in my hands as I tried to get the noise to just, freaking, stop.

And then, all of a sudden...

It did.

It just did. It just stopped. And, abruptly.

It was like someone had snapped their fingers at me and the screeching noise seized in an instant. Completely. Without a bit of trace.

"Thank God," I sighed in relief and stood up like nothing happened, jumped to my feet like a bird and adjusted myself, stretched out and cracked my neck in satisfaction.

I was okay. Thank God.

Quickly, I took to my heels in an attempt to walk back to the Bakery, but barely two steps in and I was frozen on my feet immediately.

"Eh?" I frowned in confusion. Tilted my head to stare at it.

That black car — It was there in the middle of the street. It was just there, stationery, unmoving, still, just parked there in the middle of the quiet and lonely road. Two seconds.

Two seconds was all it took me to realize that that was the same car that almost hit me just now.

The anger started to rise in me immediately and before I could stop myself, I sprung up to rush to my feet and started shouting, throwing angered curses and waving my hands in the air in anger at the stupid car, utterly provoked.

"You don mad finish, abi?! You must be MAD! STUPID FOOL! Abi you know you almost hit me with your car abi? You hit me and you won't even come out and apologise! MANNERLESS GOAT!"

I was on fire. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming. And whoever was inside that car did not seem bothered because they did not even come out of the car or move the car in all my ranting.

It did not stop me from being less livid, and I utterly gave it to him or her, throwing insults at them.

"You don't want to come out?! COWARD! You're lucky you didn't hit me! You would have spent the rest of your life in jail! ARA PUCHALA GI! You're MAD!"

The words that were about to come out of my mouth next died there and nearly choked me the moment the car door swung open immediately, and I couldn't tell why it horrified me, but I felt a whiplash, a nasty one, and nearly tripped over myself in an attempt to retract.

Someone came out of the car, I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, but they went back into the car almost immediately after they stepped out.

All I could catch was a black hoodie. A Nike Black hoodie.
And off, the hooded person, man or woman, flew themselves into the car and with a remarkable speed, the car started to speed off away from me. The bastard was running away!

More anger rose in me and I was like a little engine, vibrating and screaming at the fleeing car.

"COME BACK HERE, YOU BASTARD! COME BACK HERE! DON'T YOU KNOW YOU HIT ME! THE HELL! WHAT IF YOU REALLY HURT ME! WHAT IF I DIED!—"

My screaming was of no use because soon enough, the car had disappeared beyond my vision with time and I was standing there in the middle of an empty lonely road, shaking in all my vile and righteous anger.

People like that shouldn't be running on the streets. People who had the potential to hurt someone like THAT should NOT be on the streets! God, I was livid.

But no matter how much I screamed, it was just my voice in an empty street, a voice that almost did not sound like me, in its slightest, distorted and wavering as it reverberated all around nothing and echoed back in double fold to me like I was screaming at my damn self.

Eerily, it felt strange. Odd was the word.

There was that unearthly feeling within me. A creepy cooling feeling as though there was someone, somewhere, watching me.

I had always felt like my life was a book. I had always felt like somewhere, someone was reading about the details of my life, but this felt more brooding, more stalking like I was being followed.

"Whatever," I said to myself, dismissing the weird feeling I got, and in turn, dismissing whoever may have been in that car.

Moving on, I shook my head and made my way back into the Bakery to pick up Little Sam's Vanilla Cake.

"Thank you," I made sure to take a good look at the Vanilla Cake before it was packed into the box for me by the guy in the Bakery and I nodded, seeing that things were in perfect order.

"Happy ninth to Sammy," The counter guy had flashed me that warm smile again and I smiled back, grateful we were done with this.

"I will make sure to let him know that you care," I said to him. "At least, his big nine would be a blast." The Counter guy smiled at me again.

"What's your name, Leilani?" He asked me.

"Leilani," I answered as I took the cake in a box. "Thank you."

Unfortunately, I was not in the mood to further a conversation with him. All thanks to the wicked stranger in a black car who couldn't even stop to acknowledge what he or she had done.

"Hey...are you okay?"

With a swift turn, I turned around to catch the eyes of Hadiza, my best friend.

She was standing there, at the door of the Bakery that was a few feet from me, waiting apparently, staring at me with a slight crease on her forehead as she looked at me like she was trying to decipher what was going on with me.

"Are you okay?" She asked me again and I nodded, ran a hand through my thick, full afro hair and shook my head at her, deciding to tell her everything.

"One stupid person in a black car almost hit me," I told her.

"Woah," She backed up, the shock in her hazel eyes evident as day.

"You can imagine. I stepped out to answer Mum's call and some person nearly crushed me with his car. Decency to apologise? They don't even have!" I ranted as I walked with the Cake box in my hands, Hadiza following right beside me.

"Na wa oo," Hadiza concurred, "People in this Lekki East don't have fear of God." She even understood my anger.

Who wouldn't?

"Just forget him or her, today is Sammy's big nine, and we got the Vanilla Cake that he wanted. That's all we should be happy about," She comforted me.

"Yeah," I agreed, my voice low, "That should be a consolation, ba?"

"Yup!" Hadiza said. "Come abeg, let's be going to your house. YWA's latest like you should not be crying over spilt milk!"

I laughed, and hard. I laughed so, so hard.

"Hadiza!" I hit her playfully.

"Girl, I am proud to be best friends with YWA's newest member," She was bragging still, "I will brag about that every chance I get, Chiquita! Since you got that acceptance email from them a week or two ago, I have been telling EVERYONE about it! You know I talk too much na!"

I couldn't believe Hadiza's ability to make me laugh even after a near-death experience.

"Let's go," Hadiza said to me in a breeze, whipping out the remote control of her car and I walked right by her towards it.

"I've been getting so many texts lately from those cute new boys we met at your Neighborhood party Last Night; Fine and Finer asked us both on dates! Yay!" My best friend was excitedly telling me, as she slid into her neat, silver Porsche which sat in front of the bakery, glinting like a mass of slivers contrasting with her neon green top which seemed to be glowing under the dark sky twinkling with little diamonds of stars.

"Come on, Lei. Sam's party is not going to wait for you!" She honked twice impatiently; she was always excited over the littlest of things, even a nine-year-old birthday party.

I chuckled and reached for the door, but a sudden feeling zapped through me, like ice trickling down my spine, freezing up my brain, almost as if a single arrow dipped in poison that had been chilled by the winds of the night had been shot at my back.

I stopped, quickly darting my eyes to my side in search of anything or anyone around that could be giving me the chills, but there was no one on the sidewalk.

Strange.

I swallowed and sneakily peeped at the side view mirror to get a proper, yet discrete view of the opposite direction.

But other than the bright hazel eyes that stared back at me, there was nothing.

The street was all empty.

I sighed in relief and slipped into the car where on the radio, an interview with Arianna Grande was being aired.

"Arianna is so bombed," Hadiza breathed out in awe. "Right, YWAs latest writer?" She nudged me playfully and I rolled my eyes, giggling under my breath.

And, for a tiny moment there, she sounded like Arianna, but that could have just been Hadiza up with her antics; lately, she had been on a roll with mimicking celebrities' voices.

The house was filled up by the time we glided past the sophisticated and quiet streets of Lekki East. Soft music was already pumping through the air and my best friend, like the little psycho she was, was quick to park and skip into the big white and golden mansion.

Amused, I followed her in and soon realized that almost all my friends dominated the whole place. I could barely even spot any buddies of Sam, not that he cared, he happily raced up to me in his little black tux and matching birthday hat and had done a little dance when he found out I got his vanilla cake.

Thank you, L,” He chirped, bouncing on his heels. “Now, some for the road.” And before I knew it, he scooped the icing with his index finger and fled with his little group of friends, not more than five trailing and chuckling behind him.

“Oh, that boy,” I heard a familiar voice sigh behind me. I miss when he was just a kid.

I breathed out a short laugh. "He still is, Mom."

I dragged her into a hug, relaxing as her scent which I had missed for weeks hit my nostrils and the warmth of her embrace wrapped around me like a protective bear.

I eased up and looked at her, skin glowing under the pretty, regal lights of our massive, luxurious living room.

"How was your trip?" I asked her.

She and Dad had been away for over a week. One of the reasons I could freely host a neighbourhood party in this house.

Mum patted my cheek, smiling. “Good. Sadly, your dad couldn't make it, but he will be here first thing in the morning.”

I hope this doesn't affect Sam; today is his day, but I didn't say anything, but let out a small oh.

“But, of course, I got you something. She stretched a shopping bag to me, one I didn't even notice she was holding. Go freshen up and put it on. I just know you will love it."

Thanking her with a squeal and a tighter hug, I skipped up to my bedroom, waving and smiling at faces that all seemed to be a blur in my state of excitement.

I closed the door of my giant-sized bedroom behind me and settled the bag on my bed, eager and itching to see what was in it.

Impatiently, immediately, I pulled the content and stared perplexed at it in my hands. A dark Nike hoodie.

Then I felt it, the sharp concentrated glare of needles piercing into me from behind. I swirled around instantly, almost staggering to the bed.

"Who is there?" I asked, my voice surprisingly levelled as I knew deep within me that there was nothing anyone could do to me.

A figure moved in the shadows at the corner of the room, and slowly took a step into the light. I gasped.

It wasn't the fact that the bloodied and battered head of the person was cocked in an impossible angle, their neck looking like it would snap into two any moment from now or the fact that their left leg was twisted to the back or the fact that blood was dripping down their body in a hurried rush, that had me gasping.

No, it wasn't that.

Regular eyes, bloodshot, stared at me, regular hair soaked in blood and more regular clothing stained with dirt and dimmed with crimson.

That was what had me gasping in shock, not fear, just simple shock. Oddly, I was not scared, not one bit.

"What—”

“That's enough, Leilani,” They cut me off and it felt like a mirror of my voice. “You have had your fun.”

I took a step back, dread suddenly grasping my limbs. “I don't know what you mean.”

Thick dark blood gurgled out of their mouth and splattered on the rugged floor and for a moment it looked like they were choking on their guts.

“You cannot continue to deceive the soul of what the mind knows. Your time is up; it has been ever since the accident.”

I shook my head vehemently, teeth clenched. “There wasn't an accident. The car never hit me." How my mouth even knew what they meant to even reply to them was shocking enough.

"You died, Leilani. We died. The car crushed us up; stop deceiving your soul and let it rest."

I didn't die. I didn't die. I didn't die.

I kept on repeating out loud, but each word came out lower, less confident, and more scared than the last.

“Rest in peace, Leilanie. God is with you.”

Everything began to incinerate, slowly, my bed frame, the ceiling, and the ground began to break down into little lights floating above.

Floating to the unknown.

And I noticed I was also turning into little specks of lights like tiny balls of the sun.

Mom, Dad, Sam, Hadiza. I was leaving them. Everything had just been a facade my grieving mind had conjured up for my soul before passing.

I was dead. The car did hit me.

Before I could fully get eaten by the rays of gold and silver and white, my body and everything around me, turning into little flecks of bright beautiful nothingness, I locked eyes with them.

My subconsciousness.

"God is with you."

AUTHORS:

Tori lovetori_xo and Nana AddictiveRose.