To Kill Like Santa

16

Throughout that week, you burrowed in your sanctuary and didn't attend classes. It was Friday, the fourth day of thinking about it. You were propped on the wall and just licked your index to leaf the book on your thighs to the next page. Your phone beeped. It was probably your network service so you didn't pay mind to it. It beeped the second, third, and fourth time. Only then did you check. You had four messages from Manda and it all said: WHERE ARE YOU?!

You tapped on your phone to reply but her call came in.

“Anita, where are you?” There was urgency in her voice like one walking.

“I am somewhere,” You wouldn't want to give away your sanctuary. Oh, but you told John without worries!

“Anita, talk to me! Talk to me! Where are you.” the strings in her voice tightened seriously.

“Why do you sound like there a problem?”

“Have you seen it?”  Her voice was sharp.

“Seen what?” you were completely lost. And you had to whisper to not break your cover.

“Just tell me where you are! Talk to me.”

“You are acting very strange!” You rose to your feet and ducked the book back in its space and made to leave the library. “Okay, I am heading to the cafeteria now.” It was break time and your stomach ached.

“No!” She strongly opposed, “Don't come anywhere near the cafeteria.” You stopped dead in your tracks and the front desk woman stared, probably wondered when you entered the library in the first place. When you were sleeping Ma.

“What is happening? This thing I am meant to have seen, does it concern me?”

“Anita where are you?” From the sound, you knew she just pushed  through the twin door of the cafeteria.

Your hands began to shake and the phone almost slipped from your grasp. “Kindergarten library.” A defeated tone. The front desk woman looked at her phone and back to you; repeating the action like one who wasn't fully convinced.

†

You couldn't believe your eyes. You stared at the phone, wished you could just dissolve with your state, wished you could just fade. Words eluded you up to sounds, so your tears only rolled silently.

“That is enough.” Manda grabbed the phone.

“How could he? How could...” tears choked you and Manda reached over and enclosed you in a hug.

“What matters now is how you take it. Look at me,” she released you enough to look into your eyes. Tears filmed her brown eyes but her cheeks were free from the trail. “Don't let this get to you.”

“How?” mucus slipped from your nose and you didn't attempt to wipe it. “How can I not let it get to me? It has! It has!”

You ruffled your hair like a mad person but she reached out to tame you. “Just calm down. This is not the end of the world.”

“For you, it is not. Do you know what it feels like to be me? Now, this. God, I am finished! What would my father say when he sees that video? He has probably seen it.”

Words failed her and she could only hug you. You wrapped your arms around her and wept bitterly. Bad energy was effused through tears. Deep down you knew it wouldn't work, that the knot in your chest won't loosen no matter how much tears you shed. But you had to pretend, to make Manda not suspect the thought that had sneaked into your mind. The thought comforted you. It scared you, it made you think about Dad, made you wonder if you would meet mom.

You couldn't tell if it was the tears or the thought that quelled your mind; that loosened the knot. The thought assured you comfort. It assured you peace, it assured you freedom—freedom from feeling.

Your arms were still clasped around Manda. It would have been awkward crying on Manda's shoulder, but you were mortified. Nothing was more embarrassing than a video of you being slowly filled up. You recollected the blood on his length and how he focused the camera on your blindfolded face on which your pleasure strongly printed on. Apart from the few times he reached down to kiss your neck and the lens got obscured, he recorded everything down to his climax.

Why would he do such a thing?. He had called and explained and you knew. Knowing was painful. A lot of calls and messages, of which many were insults and and few, very few  asked if you were okay. Before you switched your phone off, Dad's call buzzed, John's call buzzed. Dad sent a text message. John sent a text message. You opened John's. He explained that he sold the video to a man in the next estate. The man worked with a porn website and had promised that the video would be restricted to viewers in the United States. The video surfacing on every blog was never his intention. He doesn't know what to do and wanted to know where you were.

In your sanctuary with Manda, but your phone was switched off, and you had long blocked off everything. Even Manda. The thought comforted you, dried your tears and made you break out of the hug. You saw that Manda's tears had dropped, and she had an expression you never expected her pretty face to conjure.

“I am hungry.” You said.

She looked at you funny and tried to fathom how food could cross your mind. It didn't. It was a trick. She proceeded to leave the library, you waited untill you were sure she was close to the cafeteria, then you absconded the library. The front desk woman was asleep.

The path that you ran through was free from eyes. You ran like a mad person, screaming as you did so. Isn't that Anita? why is she shouting? People would ask. But it was Friday and people gave less attention these area. Attention was on the academic block until it was Sunday. Like mirror redirecting light, attention would refract to the spiritual block. And it was just few minutes past noon, so Fr. Gowon, would probably be asleep. Your yell might jolt him from his quarters but you didn't care.

When you got to the church, you simply broke through the double door and ran up through the aisle to the pulpit and hopped the knee-length metal barricading it. The alter rose at the middle, a huge cross hung behind the alter. The statute of Mary stood beside the Lectern.  By the left was the door that opened to the spiral stairs that led to the bell tower. You pushed the door and began to ascend the stairs.

You scaled two steps with a step. You had always known that it would be there. The thought had always been there, buried beneath fear to hurt and love of Dad.

The feeling is like a drug. The more you take, your dependency increases and you have to keep topping your dose until it does not high you anymore. You now have to look for something higher. Tears was the drug and a bucket of it won't fix it. A gallon of it won't fix it. You needed something higher.

You reached the landing in no time. The wooden floor creaked as you moved to the arch window. The huge bell hung above. The window had no barricade and was enough to contain your body standing erect. Delay would only quell your thoughts like it had done before. You just hopped off, arms wide like a bird, you embraced freedom.

You didn't feel any impact, rather, you stepped into the white background, through that same wall Santa had asked you to walk into.

“Now you know,” Santa said, and a smile stretched on his lips, his hand romanced his grey gottee.