FRAGMENTS

~THREE

"Help me!"

"I can't see you. Where are you? "

"Help! Please! Please...."

"Can you tell me where you are?"

"I need help! Help!"

A scream sharp enough to cut tension echoed through the air and I covered my ears, feeling wetness run down my cheek.

"Ummi! Ummi! Wake up!"

I stood up with a sharp gasp, bells rang loudly in my head and it felt like Big Ben was going off somewhere in my head.

"Are you okay?" Kemi and Muslimah and Whitney-White were literally in my face. Looks of terror boldly written on their faces.

I wanted to confess to them: those weren't just dreams. They felt agonizingly real – like I was trapped in a terrifying game, exhausting my last 'save me's.' In these nightmares, a shrill female voice echoed, pleading for help. I felt obliged to respond, teetering on a cliff, uncertain of the winds intentions. Yet, I stood at the very end earned to rescue the desperate cry beyond the mist.

These haunting dreams began after my mother died. Pills numbed the pain, but sometimes, I zoned out, finding myself lost in a putrid, dark warehouse. Other times, I plunged into the water, desperate to save the unknown voice. I always drowned.

"You're sweating so much" Jomi placed her hand on my head. After hearing not a single word from me, she went back to her bed. There was this popular American content creator she liked to listen to every single morning even while she was running late for class.

Jomiloju joined us after a week of resumption. Unlike Muslimah, she was by far, the one girl in the room that had strong moral values she claimed to always stand by. She was a devout christian and by far one of the most religious in the room, outspoken and highly sarcastic.

"How many fingers are these?" Whitney-White asked holding up her hand. It was weird seeing her upfront as I had never taked to her before then. I had always secretly adored her name and how it sounded like she was some famous actress from the 90's.

"You mumu, she isn't wearing her glasses, she can't see" Kemi slapped her hand away and they both started bickering.

My phone started to ring beside me and I shooed my them away from my bed. My dad. There was no use avoiding him any longer so I picked.

"Ummi, you can't tell me you didnt get my texts, why arent you picking my calls"

"Uba, I'm still settling in, you cant keep calling me every five hours" My voice cracked from the other end of the phone. That scream really wrung out my vocals.

"I know yaro na but you need to call me every now and then, so I can know how you're faring"

"Fine uba. I'll try to call you more often" I heard shuffling and the next voice I heard was my grandmas. What? That woman hadnt been in that house since my mother passed.

"Ummu-kaira"

"Bonjour, grand-mere" I felt really uneasy.

"Grand, not grand. This isn't English, Ummi. You need to perfect your french. Since your mad mother succeeded in making sure you dont travel to Paris for your tetiary education. She will be dissapointed in her grave to see I have ensured you go there for your masters"

The only mad person that ever existed is you, Grandma. Fighting someone so hard, you still can't retain your spite even after they are six feet under.

"Yes Grandma" It was wise to agree with everything Grandma said. My father knew that too.

"I see you also haven't thought to call me since you entered your new school. You know you are only there because of me."