TMBT II: UNBREAK ME

Chapter Six: Angels Are Born On Earth

How are we all doing today? First, I apologize for the slow updates. Mixing up Law School and writing was near to impossible and during the first weeks of my externship, I was still piecing myself together. I announced a break but that didn't stop people from demanding updates. Anyways, I am back now. And hopefully, I keep a sound mental health to enable updates of Too Many Broken Things to be consistent every Sunday.

That aside, if you follow my A/Ns and teasers on my IG, you should know that there is something VERY special about this chapter. And yes, you probably already know it. This chapter introduces our NEW POV🥂

You have ONE LAST CHANCE to guess who this NEW POV is going to be here👇🏾

After guessing nonsense, we begin this chapter without much further Ado. Ladies and Gents, our new POV for TMBT Book Two is none other than...

~NANA~

School Resumption Days always terrified me.

I didn't have many fears. Even as a child, not many things phased me. I didn't cry when I got my first braces at nine. I remembered that day vividly because while my Mum cried profusely beside me, I felt rather calm. If anything, I felt more pity for my sobbing mum, than my own predicament. I remembered holding her hands to calm her down, while staring into the dentist's soul in quietness as he aimed that long, shiny needle into my mouth with all focus and seriousness. It was a sharp pain and sure it had hurt for the second it did, but afterwards, it was just dust on my shoulders.

I didn't cry when I got water baptized at the age of two either. Of course, I have no memory of the event, but my Mum always praised me with the title 'agu nwa' because according to her, while other people's children were screaming and shrieking, I was rather curiously braiding the pastor's beards into cornrows as he bursted out tongues, right before dunking me into the water.

I vaguely remembered one unforgettable 25th from my childhood though, when 'Father Christmas' paid a visit to us - the children - and the entire church scattered into a catastrophe of terrified, screaming children. And, I just sat there on my little seat in quietude, knocked over seats of the other kids who previously sat around me littered all about me as I stared at that white fake beard taped over a charcoal-black face.

That aside, I was also a little taken aback by how skinny our 'Father Christmas' looked in that overly bogus red and white costume. More so, I was genuinely lost at the other kids' fear. Little me was no fool; I could easily see that it was Lanre from the church's ushering department behind all that gimmick.

From time to time, it creeped my mother out just a little though. How unbothered and unphased I seemed to be, throughout my entire seventeen years of living. How odd a kid I was. She used to tell me that I started speaking late, but she didn't feel it was because I was a slow kid, but rather the opposite. She felt I knew too much for a child. Saw too much and heard too much too. And maybe that was why God withheld my tongue a little longer than normal.

Of course, I never fully believed her when she would tell me stories of how I would sneak out of bed around midnight and head to the dark corridors of the house with the house lantern. Apparently, after being the kid who never socialized or spoke to actual people, that dimly lit corridor was the only place where I would play and laugh, all by myself.

It sounded made up. But, a part of me had faint memories from childhood of being in dark places... That was the closest thing to me believing it just may have been true after all. And for a fact, even before I had given my life to Jesus Christ, I had never been afraid of the Dark.