Headquarters [2]

Mum would scream and whimper his name. On and on till he eventually reaches ecstasy. They call it Sadism, I know because I checked it up online the second time I overheard their episode.

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Read part 1 HERE.

Flashback to two years ago. I was a good girl living under a fairly rich roof. From what I was told, father fled with N400,000 of mother’s savings when I was 5. News from outside the country that reached us is that he was now in Australia or was it Germany? Anyway, he had remarried and had two kids. Mother would never talk about him.

Lord knows what happened between them. I mean who leaves a 30 year old lady and an adorable child. Not to brag but I was cute as a child and as you might have guessed, there was no picture of my father anywhere in the house. Just several of my mum and I with relatives I have never met. At age 16, I was one of the brightest at the secondary school I attended. Now mum had a degree in Statistics from Unilag and she’s hyper by nature. She also was very emotional and words got to her easily. Hence the murmuring neighbors were a motivation for majority of what she did.

“Her clothes look shabby.”

Mum would buy more.

“Philomena looks thin.”

She’d stuff me with more food.

“So young and yet a single mother.”

On and on it went with just the two of us until the new boss came. I wasn’t one to poke my nose into matters that didn’t exactly concern me. Most times, I just read and listen to music; Fela or any of the new age hip-hop artist I liked but when your mother starts talking too much about one person, there must be something up. And when she invites him over? Red alert. At least according to what twitter says.

I met the boss on a fateful Tuesday. I’ll label him Mr Goody-two-shoes. He looked and acted like one. If I had passed him by in the street, I would have thought he was a pastor. One of those spiritual people cabashing and speaking in tongues rekekekebabamatata. It was obvious he was trying too hard to be nice and mother was acting too stupid, like the other time Uncle Dozie came, hung around and slept in our place for over a month. Same as Uncle Nicholas, Uncle Tobi, Uncle Tochi, Uncle Dimi and the list goes on. They would come around nice and promising at first as long as her bed gradually gets warmer and there was money for her to spend on some of them. When she eventually lose interest or the landlord comes thundering on the door, out they go and she’d start her lecture of how men are scum.

“I have a daughter your age.” Goody-two-shoes said.

“How nice.” I said in my most bored tone.

“Which school do you attend?”

“Our Lady of Resolution.” I muttered.

“What! My daughter attends the same school.”

You don’t say.

“Do you know Jadesola Alani in arts class?”

Of course I did. I knew almost everyone in the school.

“No I don’t”, I lied.

“Of course she does!”, Mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen.

“Isn’t she that girl who got first position last session? Your good friend?” She finished with a smile.

I looked at her and had pity for her. She looked so haggard and desperate.

I hated Jadesola. Hated hated hated her. She was pompous and annoying. Like her father that was seated opposite me, she always acted religious too but she wasn’t. She was a big gossip and mean.

That was it. I stood up and ran to my room.

“She’ll come around.” I heard him say.

I never did.

I find it funny how adults think they can make decisions that affects us without actually giving much regards to how it’d make us feel.

Five months later, Mum and Mr Goody-two-shoes walked down the aisle. Mr. And Mrs. Goody-two-shoes! What a joke.

Jadesola automatically became my step-sister and they moved into our house. That was the last straw.

“Don’t touch my stuff.” I said, wagging my finger at her vehemently.

“But sisters are meant to share.”

“First of, I am not exactly your sister. And you are to share only when I give you permission.”

Her eyes went over my dresser and the lotions, makeup items and perfumes sitting there.

“All this will lead you to hell.” She hissed.

“Not if you get there first.” I hissed back.

I plugged in my mini stereo and Fela began the first verse of Water no get enemy.

“This type of music too.” She hissed again.

I flashed her the middle finger and rolled into my bed.

“The relationship between them will get better,” Mum would say hopefully over and over.

It never did.

And then April 23.

I remember too well because many times I have laid on my bed at the head quarters, mares sailing into my dreams and making me thrash over and over. Light-skinned Chinwe my roommate was already used to them.

“Philomena is such a rude and unholy child. She wouldn’t even come to church with us. We have been married for over a month now and she has never set a foot in church.” Goody-two-shoes started.

I stood by the kitchen counter, eavesdropping.

“She is not a child and has a mind of her own.” I heard mum say.

“We should sign her up for deliverance.”

“It is not that extreme. We will keep praying for her.”

I hissed.

“You all need prayers.” I said in a low tone.

Especially Mr Goody-two-shoes. Such an hypocrite.

Just last night when I couldn’t sleep as usual and was walking about the house, I had overheard their usual cacophony.

“Say my name!” Followed by a slap.

Mum would scream and whimper his name. On and on till he eventually reaches ecstasy. They call it sadism, I know because I checked it up online the second time I overheard their episode. Yet Mr Goody-two-shoes would wake up on Sunday morning, get dressed and brag about how good a minister he is. Such an hypocrite.

Swallowed a glass of water to clear the bitterness in my throat but the anger still remained. Stumbled into my room which was now the girls room and the sight before me made me laugh. Seated on my dressed cushion was none other than my darling stepsister Jadesola with a face full of the makeup, my makeup which would lead me to hell.

She froze when she saw me.

“I-I-I was j-j-just…”

“You were just what? Trying out the devil’s instrument?”

“I had to know how it feels like so as to be able to preach better against it.”

“Liar! You are such an hypocrite like your father.”

I advanced towards her and she cowered on the cushion.

“Such an hypocrite. Guess what? I hate hate hypocrite.”

I reached for the razor in my open make up purse and grabbed her head. She stifled a scream.

“I am going to teach you a lesson you will never forget.”

When I rinsed the razor in the kitchen sink minutes later, the dull pink clump which was formerly her tongue was resting on a napkin. And I felt the bitterness no more.

To be continued.

Responses

    1. RebelAtHeart
      @morris
      She’s one cruel lover I must say. She f*cked our sensibilities with fine, ornate words; she got pre-cum seeping through our mental penises, and just when we’re about to reach the home stretch, just when we’re about to stumble upon the reach of an orgasm of earth-shattering qualities, the literary sadist disappeared into thin air like a witch from Hogwarts, leaving us forlorn and with giant blue balls.

      Such literary sadism. 😁

    2. Oyindamola Post author
      Hello Morris! I have had this under review since the beginning of the year. Not my fault but there were probably other important articles from other people.

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