Gone Bad (Nigerian Novel) -Editing

Chapter 31: World War Me

She sat on the sofa like it was her elevated tone, and her red fingers had a rhythmic tap to it.

Only a small gesture yet it rang loud like drums in my ears.

I scan the room to see my Dad wasn't home as I had hoped.

The door behind me creaks as I push it closed.

Immediately I turn my back to her so I can lock it, though thinking about it now having an easy escape would be heavenly.

The dstv she clearly hasn't been watching comes off and I hear her.

"You have finally decided to show your face."

Instead of the fear that had been running through my veins the past twenty four hours.

Nothing comes. I had risked everything to gain nothing, I was defeated.

"Good afternoon mummy."

"At five p.m? Nimi, at five p.m." she yells tapping the remote furiously on the couch.

The evening came by 6, but I dared not say that out loud.

I should've been home earlier, but the streets of Lagos had blessed me with the notorious third mainland bridge traffic.

Something I should've escaped on a Saturday, but the city never rests, and neither did the owanbes (party goers to weddings).

"Sorry mummy." I say, knowing there would be no reasoning with her tonight. This was only the first tip of the iceberg simmering under water.

"Oya, where have you been that you are coming at this ungodly hour." she demands.

"I went to Eko Hotel, you and daddy gave me permission." I say barely above a murmur but it must've sounded like a megaphone in her ears, because her eyes grew rounder and she jumped from her seat.

"Ehen, we gave you permission? And did that permission ever include going to the club to prostitute yourself? I don't blame you it's my fault I even listened to your father."

I only stare, she wasn't finished.

"...Yet when they bring shame on the family, then it will turn to 'my daughters.' Now tell me, why was Victoria in her mothers house by 12pm on the dot yet you're gallivanting your miserable self at this time?"

"Traffic." I lie through my teeth, omitting the scarier part of the truth.

She laughs, really laughs, and I start to get scared when her entire body begins to vibrate, her hand the most violent of them all.

"Do you take me for an idiot? Was there a spirit on the road that held your car specially on the read. See I know everything so you better confess." she says.

I only look at her, my face frigid as I reclined deeper into my shell.

Always I had done what would please her, just so I wouldn't feel like a bastard child whenever I slipped up.

Yet her respect and love had always felt so willowy, pushed to and fro by my performance.

No amount of, 'all the sacrifices I made for you', 'not every parent takes care of their child', 'everything is for your own good', or the favourite 'you will appreciate it when you're older and a parent yourself', could convince me she was capable of loving her own blood.

Fimi deviated and now she's as good as disowned, not that I'd be too far from it at this rate.

Do good get nothing. Do bad and barely survive it.

"Is it that you're deaf or you're too foolish to answer me?" She boomed, her words still able to seep through my bones after many years of scoldings.

"I was at a man's house before I came home." I throw carelessly.