CHIBOK (COMPLETED)

CHAPTER TWO

It was few minutes past midnight, yet, sleep eluded her. Cynthia tossed lazily to the side of her queen size bed. The idea of taking tranquilizers was not feasible, turns out she'd exhausted her sleeping pills and had forgotten to purchase a refill at the nearest pharmaceutical store. She had returned late to the neighborhood that night, which was after the store closed for the day—this was actually an excuse—her mind had been lost in issues around her that she'd didn't take the time to remember the possible need for soporific.

The nagging headache refused to let her be, and the more she tried not to think, the worse the innate push to rationalize situations plagued her.

Cynthia shifted from the bed, her dressing mirror reflected her crazed figure—the disheveled shoulder-length black hair and bleary eye, the sight which slightly startled and amused her at the same time. She tugged her loose fitting shirt around herself, sat on the chair by the window and picked a pen to write. Her journal was right where she always leaves it, right on top of the desk. The journal was the other answer she knew, if only she would get back to sleep again.

As she stroked the open page of the old journal with the tip of her pen, her day replayed as vivid as ever: Caleb's bout of flu; her hysteric rush to the hospital where he'd stayed for a while before she left as she needed to be at work and was already running late.

Cynthia's client's appointment was almost due before she arrived. She was welcomed by the startled look on her secretary's face. Kate had called her phone during her mad drive through town, she'd ignored it.

"Good morning," said the secretary as she dropped a roll of the dailies on her desk. Cynthia observed that she was about to say something else, possibly the usual flippant excuses she would give to stay away from her job. She took a sip of the steaming tea that Kate had brought her and decided to start the conversation on her own terms. "I know, Caleb had a bad flu overnight and I had to rush to the hospital. I have a lot of work to do and I need you here, today." She took another noisy sip and crunched some cookies. Kate was still standing, clearly waiting for her own turn to say something. Cynthia cleared her throat, "thanks Katie, you may leave."

"But_"

Here we go again! She thought as she hastily cleared the evidences of her hurried breakfast, "whatever it is, I'm of the opinion that it can wait."

"you had_"

"Please Kate."

"You had a delivery of a red roses, I'm wondering if you'd like to have them placed in your car."

Her hand stopped midway across the chestnut table towards a file that the secretary had placed for her. "From whom did you say it was from?" she asked.

"Mr. Bello. He hastily dropped by and asked me to give them to you, said it would remind you of an appointment, didn't say what." She hastily added the latter.

She regarded her for a moment, "tell Akpan to drop it in my car, thank you." Kate turned to leave, "the next client, please."

A woman walked in, on a closer look as they exchanged pleasantries, Cynthia noticed the bruises on her face; her attempt with her overwrapped head gear could only fool anyone at long distance.

They exchanged pleasantries as she took her seat before her, "How are you doing?" she asked, after the woman refused her offer of at least a glass of water. Her prompt reply was "fine," before she added that a friend directed her to book for an appointment with Cynthia in regards to legal advice.

"Well, I'm Cynthia, how may I help you?"

The woman broke into a fit of successively deep sobs as she attempted to narrate her ordeal. Cynthia handed her a roll of tissue paper and waited for her client to gain composure.