GHETTO LOVE

CHAPTER ONE

The dining lays silent, empty forks rolling slim lines of spaghetti but none having its way into any of our mouths. A deep sigh escapes Kelvin's lips and I look up in that second, our eyes locking immediately. I look away, tucking in a strand of hair behind my ear and Mum doesn't say a word. She stares at her phone constantly, then rolls spaghetti in her fork, dunks her back in the chair and slowly closes her eyes. Somehow, I can feel how emotionally drained Mum is but for reasons best known to her, it's a duty to keep us in the dark on matters which directly affects us.

It's a small, poorly lit room and power hasn't been restored in days. It's the perks of having being brought up in this part of the world. The parlour is filled with a scent I'm overly familiar with- Mum's cooking. A small lantern at the foot of the dining is the source of light which we see the food none of us intends eating. There's hardly any appetite, despite our desperately hungry stomachs. It's him again.

Dad. He hasn't been in home in two days and Mum just like always, has been wreckless, trying her best to keep it as cool as possible in front of us but sometimes she forgets we're well aware of everything that's going on and a lot really has changed. We don't hide under the beds when Dad yells at Mum, or stand at a corner and cry when we've gone days without food when Dad sends Mum out of the house after drowning himself in pools of alcohol. Stealing was brought up as an option when we realized the game was rigged- When we realized life isn't as fair after all.

"I'm going to bed," Mum says in a faint voice, gloomily drawing the chair backward so she can get up. Afterwards, she adjusts her wrapper around her waist before proceeding to our one bedroom at the other half of the room, demarcated with a thin curtain. Fed up, I hurriedly push my chair backwards with my back and turn the food back into the stainless flask. I can tell Kelvin is staring at me but I still am very mad at him.

"Tiwa,"

His voice is low, apologetic and before I even look, I can tell the pity face he has on, just to appease my raging side. "Tiwa, I'm sorry," he says when I don't look away. i freeze just a bit, my thoughts roaming but just in bits and pieces.

"It's not like you wouldn't do it again if you had the chance to," I reply with a shrug and grab the hoodie from the table, heading out. I step into my black slipper and the door opens with Kelvin staring at me. He wouldn't stop till things are okay between us but the moment I'm gone, he'll go back to the drugs and we'll return to square one. It has become an endless circle and I'm exhausted already.

"Tiwa, I said I'm sorry," he begs.

No, he's not. Kelvin is my elder brother and has been at home for as long as I can remember due to the ASUU strike. I know we live in the ghetto, a place for the not so well to do people, but at least I'd expect us to try and not attempt suicide. i caught my brother emptying shots and shots of alcohol, laying in pools of empty bottles with a burning cigarette in his hand, amidst his friends who shared just the same fate. I felt a part of me break down like glass against rock bottom and I couldn't hold back the warm tears that sped down my cheek. What hurt most is, he has promised endlessly to stop this enormously dangerous smoking habit but all tactics prove futile.

The thought that eats me inside is the possibility of Kelvin becoming just like Dad and it's  almost like I'm the only one who sees that event slowly becoming a reality. Dad is a drunk who would spend even a kidney for a second shot of alcohol. Somehow, Mum has managed to resist his endless beatings and yelling every time he wastes himself. I don't want my brothrt to end up like that. Kelvin is the most strong-willed, determined human I ever met. He is in his final year in the university and has managed to maintain a very high GPA. Perhpas part of the reason I don't want to lose my brother is because he's my biggest inspiration.