The Rise of Damola

Chapter 37- Heads up

~HABIBA~

Guilt had a way of sinking into your bones, a cold, unrelenting pressure that weighed you down, making it impossible to escape its grasp.

From the moment I returned from the hospital, it was as if a shroud of darkness had enveloped me, suffocating me with regret and sorrow. The events of the past few days blurred together, each one more chaotic than the last, leaving me with a gnawing sense of dread that I couldn't shake.

Everything was happening so fast—too fast for me to catch my breath, too fast for me to comprehend. But amid the chaos, one question kept troubling me, haunting my thoughts day and night: Why? Why was everything falling apart now? The more I thought about it, the more desperate I became for answers.

And then, like a jolt of lightning, a vivid memory flashed through my mind. It was a memory I had tried to bury, one that I had hoped would never resurface. But it did, and with it came a realization that sent chills down my spine. It was the day Bunmi and I had visited the Babalawo's hut. The old man's words echoed in my mind, his warning about the charm that Damola had—a charm that he said needed to be neutralized.

In that moment, everything clicked into place. Could it be that the charm and the oogun owo was the source of all this misfortune? Was it possible that the charm, which we had so carelessly dismissed, was now wreaking havoc on our lives? The thought was terrifying, but I couldn't ignore it. My gut told me there was a connection, and I knew that I had to go back to the babalawo to find out more.

The journey back to the babalawo's hut was filled with fear. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder of the gravity of the situation. The path seemed longer this time, more foreboding, as if the very earth beneath my feet knew the peril I was walking into. By the time I arrived, my hands were trembling, my mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

The babalawo greeted me with the same instructions as before, his weathered face betraying nothing. I wasted no time in explaining what had been happening; the chaos, the suffering, the inexplicable turn of events that had upended our lives. He listened silently, his gaze unwavering, and when I finished, he finally spoke.

"My child," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of years and wisdom, "the winds of danger have already begun to blow. The storm is upon you, and I fear it may be too late to reverse what has been set in motion. The charm's power has taken root, and we may have to let nature take its course."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I refused to accept them. There had to be something we could do—some way to stop this madness before it was too late. "But Baba, please," I begged, my voice quivering with desperation, "isn't there anything we can do now? Anything at all?"

The babalawo's eyes bored into mine, a deep sadness reflected in his gaze. "Damola has made a grave mistake, one that only he can correct. He is the only one who can set things right."

He reached out to me, his gnarled hand holding an object that made my heart skip a beat. It was a strange, oddly shaped fruit—unlike anything I had ever seen before. Its texture was rough, its color unnatural, almost otherworldly. "Give him this to eat," the babalawo instructed, his voice low and deliberate. "Tell him that he must do the right thing, or he will lose what is closest to him."

His words hung in the air, heavy with foreboding. The weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders like a boulder. "Okay, Baba," I whispered, nodding as I took the fruit from his hand. "I will do that right away." I turned to leave, my mind a tumult of fear, guilt, and determination.

As I walked away from the hut, the gravity of what I had to do began to sink in. I knew I needed time to think, to process everything that had just happened. So, instead of heading straight back to the hospital, I went home first, hoping to find some clarity in the familiar surroundings.

But even in the comfort of my home, the questions continued to plague me. How was I going to get Damola to eat this fruit when he was lying unconscious in a hospital bed? And what would happen if he didn't? The babalawo's words echoed in my mind—he will lose what is closest to him. The thought of Damola losing Bunmi, of losing their unborn child, was too much to bear.

And then there was the matter of facing Bunmi herself. How could I look her in the eye, knowing that I had played a role in her suffering? The guilt was overwhelming, a suffocating force that left me gasping for breath. I had aligned myself with Mirabel and the boss, thinking I could control the situation, that I could manage the consequences. But now, I saw the truth—I had been a fool, and my best friend was paying the price for my mistakes.

Regret coursed through me like poison. I should have never partnered with Mirabel or the boss. I should have seen the danger, should have known that nothing good could come from aligning with such people. But I had been blinded by anger as well as hatred, and now I was standing on the brink of losing everything I held dear.

But I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't stand by and watch as Damola's life crumbled because of my actions. I had to find a way to make things right, even if it meant confronting the consequences of my own misdeeds. It was my responsibility now, and I was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.

With renewed resolve, I gathered my thoughts. No matter how difficult it would be, no matter how much it pained me, I had to find a way to help Damola. I had to find a way to fix the mess I had helped create, even if it meant facing my own demons. And so, with a heavy heart and a mind filled with uncertainty, I prepared myself for the difficult road ahead.

I knew what I had to do, but I also knew that it wouldn't be easy. Convincing Damola to eat the fruit was just the first step. The real challenge would be in helping him find the strength to do what needed to be done—to correct the mistakes of the past and set things right. But I was ready to face that challenge, because this time, I wasn't just fighting for myself. I was fighting for Damola, for Bunmi, and for their unborn child.

No matter what it took, I would make things right, even if it was the last thing I ever did.