3.1 | Undead

18

February 26, 2021.
Victoria island, Lagos, Nigeria

Dami chanted in the background switching from Igbo to Yoruba and then to other languages I couldn't quite understand. Nevertheless, Bukola's gaze was solely fixed on me.

Her red dress stood out the most in the room as it was the sharpest colour. Her heels clicked against the tiles when she took two steps towards me.

Lara's whimper cut through the air, diverting Bukola's focus to her and swapping her smirk with a frown. With a growl, she balled her right hand into a fist and right before my eyes, the chair behind me crumpled up. Wood snapped, leather crumpled up and my chair was reduced to nothing. It looked like she'd put it in her hand and squeezed it with all her might.

Goosebumps rose up on my arms.

On instinct, I drew lara behind me and stared into Bukola's eyes.

"Why are you doing this?"

The smile was back on her face in one instant. She shrugged. "That's an easy question. I want you. I want to take you with me."

"Take me where exactly? You're not the person I used to know."

Bukola's response both shocked me and threw me off balance.

"Death changes people, love. But I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

What?!

If she'd just meant what I thought she did, that meant she was going to kill me.

Stephan's voice came from behind her. "Told you, dumbass!"

Next, Dami screamed. Bukola turned to her sharply and frowned. It was almost like she hadn't noticed anyone else in the room apart from Lara and I before now.

She sighed, turning around to throw me a quick wink. "I'll handle her, then I'll handle you."

Without giving me the chance to catch up with her words, she marched towards Dami with long steps. She lifted a hand in the air, levitating the table that we'd pushed to one end of the room earlier, and pointed in Dami's direction. The calabash vibrated alongside Dami's hands, her eyes were shut. But somehow, she deflected the table's path and it ended up being smashed against the wall.

After an exhale, Dami's eyes flew open and she smirked at Bukola. "Let's dance."

Bukola scoffed, proceeding to pull out the television from it's place on the wall without touching it, and haul it at Dami. At the last minute, one of Dami's hands left the calabash and she used the hand to stop the TV form reaching her. Yemi's jaw hit the floor after mine.

What the heck was she? Was she a ghost too? But I could feel her.

Dami tossed the TV aside and the sound of shattering glass followed. Before Bukola could haul something else at her, she put her hand out. Bukola's hands clapped together. As much as she tired to separate her hands from each other, she couldn't.

My jaw hit the floor again. Dami had just stopped Bukola!

The tiles cracked as Bukola slammed her foot down on the floor. She growled loudly and, with great effort, separated her hand form each other. Her glare leveled with Dami's. Even though Dami was now sweating profusely, releasing heavy breaths, Bukola remained unfazed by the battle. Not even a bead of sweat was on her forehead—whuch was supposed to be normal since she was a ghost, but for some reason, I couldn't come to terms with it.