DEATH JUNCTION

4

I just wanted all of it to stop. The crying. The screaming. The disgusting tang of blood with its signature coppery scent.

Nausea washed over the numbness before being pulled down the tide of other emotions. The sun's rays came through the window. The heat seared me, giving me some feeling against the throbbing numbness that grew with each second that passed.

The sombre music that began to play outside meddled with my heart, intense pangs striking it with a weighty precision. I swallowed a lump in my throat. It had been two weeks. Two weeks since she died. Two weeks without my hero. Two weeks without the only person that saw me as something more than a bastard child. Two weeks without the woman that gave her all for me when she could have hated and even killed me if she had wanted.

I licked my lips, my eyes travelling through this room of the hut that my mummy had lived most of her life. The place where I had stayed at the beginning with her parents. My mouth curved down at the thought. With scaly yellow walls that had moss streaking the bottom, water dropping from a hole in the thatched roof, dust settled among empty furniture with its fair share of termites crawling their way through, dead like the user that once stayed within its walls.

My breathing seized as I heard someone begin to say an eulogy for my mother. I eyed the tiny ragdoll in my hand, my mind rushing away from the shadows that wanted to hold it captive. It was old, two plaits of hair that stood straight like broomsticks and an old wrinkled dress that almost smelt like mould and was completely caked with dust. I had discarded it before but now it held a piece of my mother that I didn't want to lose. My eyes shifted to what had been stitched to the base of its purple dress in bold dark threads.

No one can determine who you are apart from you.

Then the cloud of a memory settled on top of me.

"I hate this place!" I cried, gripping the sheets as the earthen scent broke through my nose. The tap-tap sound filled my ears, my mummy wrapped her arms around me, humming and enveloping me within her embrace. I released the sheets and nestled into her lean shoulder.

"Why does Grandpa and grandma both hate me? Why does everyone always pick the twins over me?" My sobs intensified, my voice straining as I tried to keep my cries silent. Disgusting brat continued to ring in my head like a siren even as every dirty look and laugh began to rear its head, tearing me apart in so many ways.

My chest tightened, my vision cajoled by blues and blacks. My back still ached from the few whips. Bastard. Brat. The illegitimate child.

"Why can't they see me as anything more than a...?" She scooted closer, gently wiping my tear stained cheeks.

"Because they're people, Ifarada. People will always come against whoever is different, people will always remain too scared to accept those outside of their customs."

"They don't accept me because they're afraid?" My mummy smiled softly at me, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint.

"Yes. They're too scared because they know you would kick their asses the chance you get." Even though I cracked a smile I already knew she was just messing with me. I knew what the others said about me, they didn't see me as a threat. And I am sure that they never would. My mummy bit her lip, her face tilting.

"What do you wish could change about you?"

"My birth, how I don't have a dad. I hate that everyone else has a dad while I don't." She pulled out a small ragdoll and placed it in my hands.

"A doll?" I had never liked dolls since I had seen a scene from a movie that showed how a doll had murdered the people that had bought it. She nodded before clearing her throat

"H- Someone once gave it to me," I didn't miss the distant look that crossed her eyes as though peeking into the past.

"So read what's at the bottom of its dress."

"No one else can determine who you are, apart from you." My nose wrinkled up.

"That's so cheesy." My mummy merely smiled before she held my hand, donning that look of fiery determination.

"Just because it is doesn't make it any less true. Remember that no one , not society, not my parents, not your friends or anyone else, not even me. Only you can determine who you are and that's final." I nodded along to her words, trying to reason out what she said that had no effect on my aching heart.

I broke out of my train of thought. My throat clogged, it bobbed up and down while the familiar stinging sensation filled my eyes. I could barely breathe. I fought to control the sensations of that night that haunted me in my dreams, that twisted my stomach and destroyed my appetite, that kept me awake, staring into the night waiting in tremendous fear for an attack. Then another memory consumed me.

I waited, my little hands in a silent prayer as i looked out the window. Grandpa and grandma had gone out for a wedding not too long ago, not without warning me with a few slaps. In the darkness, as night had fully come around, I could do nothing but stare outside.

Staring outside the window prevented me from looking at the thick darkness that sauntered behind me, it prevented me from seeing the shadows that could very well be plotting my death. I saw the worn out stick fence, held together by old ropes, streetlights dimly flickering along the pothole filled road that was covered with sand.

9pm had clicked, not long after 10pm followed too. With every minute, my fear grew, an impending flood that threatened to break out of the dam. My chest ached as I imagined what would happen if my mother died. I couldn't even imagine it. I tried to assure myself, refusing to believe my anxiety. But with every minute that dragged by, the nightmares of what happened to innocent people filled my mind. Killed. Used for rituals. Tortured.

Finally when it seemed like my chest was about to burst, my mummy arrived. Her torchlight and heavy handbag in hand, she entered into the compound. Not waiting another second, I ran through the darkness, willingly facing my fears as I knew I would meet my mummy at the other side. I enveloped her in a hug as soon as I reached her, not minding the sticky tears that had begun to escape my eyes.

"I thought you died!" She smiled though I noticed she struggled slightly underneath my weight.

"I'd never die on you, my little Zee. I promised you that I would always come back." She placed a sloppy kiss on my head after which I pulled away, feigning annoyance as she pushed me inside, my fear now extinguished.

Only this time she didn't.

I clenched my fists, finally feeling the dam break. My heart clenched furiously as every single memory of her skittered through my mind. Everything she had been to me; a protector, my knight in shining armour, my cheerleader. Every single thought produced a tighter clench of my heart.

Most importantly she had been my mom, something that my father, wherever he was had not been.

Before I could give into the sadness that brewed inside of me, the door creaked softly, making me turn towards the sound. A short stout middle aged man with a rotund face and a bald spot stood at the doorway.

Pastor Chris.

I remembered as my thoughts intensified, my throat parching as the tears gleaned from my eyes, hinged by the presence of someone else. A sad and understanding look crossed his eyes.

"I am sorry for your loss." Something snapped within me as he closed the door.

The reality I had not wanted to face, the very reason that I didn't attend the burial, the very reason I avoided everyone like the plague, that one statement alone pulled me down to the reality of the horrible life I was about to start living, the new normal that I would have to accept no matter how bitter it felt.

Mummy was gone.

And she was never coming back.

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1425
WORD COUNT: 5848
I want to thank God for giving me the Grace to write this. It's been quite a while. How are you guys doing? I'm sorry if the chapter wasn't so great but I got stuck on somethings though, anyway thanks for reading. Vote and comment if you like, have a lovely day ❤️.