Two Pink Lines|| A Short Story✔

Chapter 3

Ayomide Sa'ad Mohammed.

I don't believe my eyes are deceiving me this time around. My body tenses at the sight of him.  He looks worn out and unkempt. Halima's right hand lands on his left cheek with a whack.

"You rapist," she scowls, "you're evil Ayo, you're a beast!"

Ayo's gaze is fixed on me with his glassy eyes, he goes on his knees and starts crying like a child.

"Ella, I know I'm the last person you want to see right now because of the pain I've caused you, but I just had to find a way. I have been trying to get across to you for the past four weeks but it seems you blocked my number and went MIA," he looks away from my face, "Ella, I'm evil, I'm a beast, I'm everything wicked but baby I still want your forgiveness. I can't do anything to reverse the damage I've caused but I am willing to share in your pain. Babe, I've not been able to sleep peacefully since then, the guilt is haunting me badly."

"But why me Ayo? What was my offence?" I say to everyone's surprise.

"I'm sorry Ella, I don't know what came over me. I...." He whispers and his voice breaks but it won't fix this, it won't fix me.

"You raped me Ayo," tears stream down my face blinding me but I continue thrashing, "I begged you but you already made up your mind to destroy my life."

"No....."

"I think that's enough, Ayo," Halima says, seething inwardly, "Let's allow her be for now."

She looks at me one last time and then drags Ayo by his hand as she leaves, closing the door with an almost inaudible bang. I remain in my position for a few seconds, thinking about all that happened in the last thirty minutes.

.    .     .     .     .     .      .

The rustling of the leaves of the mango tree in the middle of my compound tells how windy the morning is. It is barely six o'clock. My siblings, mum and I are seated on the old dirty sofas in the living room having our usual morning devotion. The room is dimly lit with two candles; one placed on a stool and the other placed on the old Sony CRT television.

"Jesus, you love me too much o ...." Mum sings a popular Christian song as she leads us in worship for the morning devotion. My two younger siblings join her in singing the song, shouting at the top of their voices. Not me though. My mouth has a bitter taste and I am trying to deal with the nausea that comes with it.

Unfortunately, my body does not cooperate.

I run to the bathroom and empty my gastric contents into the pink toilet bowl. One second my breakfast is where it belongs. Then everything in my middle seemed to go into reverse, and there is my breakfast in the toilet. I flush the toilet and rinse the bitter taste off my mouth with water. My mother appears. The scowl on her face isn't helping my uneasiness.

"Eseoghene," her sharp tone pierces my tympanic membrane. My heart beats so loud that my pericardial cavity seems too small to contain its excesses. My mum only calls me that way when I am in soup.

"Ma..."

"Eseoghene, you don carry belle abi?"

My eyes widen in realization. I was raped without protection. I might be pregnant.

"Mummy..." I start, but my words get stuck in my throat. I swallow hard and look at my mum. The fire in her eyes is enough to make me avert my gaze back to my fingers.

"Esohe.." my mum calls my immediate younger sister and she comes running, "Go tell aunty nurse make she give you that pregnancy test thing. Run o, bring am now now." My sister nods and runs out to get the errand done.

Tremor of query cause overrides my system, my phone which I manage to grip firmly, threatens to fall off my hands. My body vibrates like I am about to experience a seizure and tears fill my eyes. My mother does not move an inch. She stands at the entrance of the bathroom glaring at me.

The contact of my sister's loud slippers against the floor announces her arrival and I almost shrink. She gives my mum the pregnancy test strip wrapped in a black polythene bag and excuses herself after my mum confirms the validity of the product.

Mum passes a bowl we use in the bathroom to me, "Oya, take. Piss inside this thing ehhn then you carry am come meet me for my room," she instructs and then leaves.

My eyes water and blur as I stare at the bowl in my hands. I don't think I've ever been so helpless. I shut the door and sit on the toilet bowl. My phone dings, I look at the broken screen. It is a message from My Boyfriend garnished with several heart emojis.

Don't judge me.

After visiting me five times on his knees and looking so disheveled, I unblocked him. I know he inflicted a lot of pain on me but I still love him and seeing him that way melted my heart a little. He has been trying his best to text and call me everyday since then. I have never replied to any of his messages but I pick his calls sometimes, not because I've forgiven him but because like a fool, I miss him a lot and I want to hear his voice.

Babe, I just want you to know that you're not in this alone, as wrong as it may sound, you can talk to me. I'm here for you. I am not giving up on us cos I still love you and I hope you can forgive me.

I take a deep breath and allow my nerves to relax. His texts are the best remedy for anxiety and my ever calming pills.

I bring the bowl my mum gave me earlier directly under my urethral meatus and allow the warm yellow fluid empty right into it, completely ignoring the whitish content that has been coming alongside it for the past few weeks.
.
.
.

I stare at the two pink lines that stare back at me from the test strip that I just brought out from the bowl containing my urine. The signature damp smell of my mother's room hit my nose and I fall to the old cemented floor trembling. My mum looks at me with disappointment when she notices how unrested I am.

"Na two lines dey there, abi?" I remain mute. She picks up her slippers and aims at my face. She doesn't miss, I groan at the painful contact and stand up as fast as I can. "Ese, who give you belle?" She asks.

I want to cry but it seems my lacrimal glands are fatigued. My mum charges towards me and I run to the opposite side of the room.

"You this foolish girl, I suffer send you go school and instead make you bend down read, you go dey pursue man," she grabs the yellow low heeled shoe beside her and continues chasing me.

I don't realize I am making a wrong run until I notice I am trapped in between the only new wardrobe in my house and the closed door.

I gulp. If only the door was open.

In no time, my mum grabs me by the ear and gives me the beating of my life, saying things like No be me you go disgrace, this stupid girl and If I no beat this pikin comot from your body, I no be your mama.

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