Eighteen O' Five {ONGOING}🇳🇬

•~~Chapter Fourteen~~•

It was exactly 8:37 pm and my dad must be at least thirty minutes deep into his sleep already. Perfect time for a sneak out. Though, my dad was one to wake up at random hours, peek into our rooms to check if we were fine. So, we couldn't sneak out in the middle of the night without leaving our dummies.

Olamipo in her way set the fake Olamipo sleeping on her bed. I also, with enough pillows aligned under my duvet and one of Olamipo's wigs to disguise, set the fake me to sleep in my room. Fun right?

We did all of that in the dark, tipping our toes around the house like ravenous ballet dancers or more accurately, hired assassins. After which we held our slippers in our armpits and tipped towards the exit door for the main operation.

Just like in movies, this kind of plan always flops at some point, close to the end, mostly. So did ours, almost. We were almost at the door when Olamipo's leg kicked an empty water bottle that was in her way, forward. It rolled on the tiled floor, squeaking and drumming on it.

Usually, such a bottle shouldn't roll more than three seconds before coming to a quick stop, but it seemed this bottle just wanted to be the enemy of progress.

Damn bottle.

We froze in the dark, hoping the noise of the bottle wouldn't wake our dad. Well, I prayed against it in mind, and I think that prayer was answered. After a few wait and nothing woke up, I turned the key of the door gently and quietly as possible to exit the house.

Successful. Out. Plan, unjeopardized.

Outside, the road was empty, not a single person did we meet on our way as we walked. Just 8:50 pm. People must have panicked because of the cases of the two missing girls. Quite reasonable.

As we walked, I began to think, perhaps, we made the wrong decision. Maybe it was unreasonable of us to sneak out of the house late in the night, alone, in the name of searching for answers. I might have forgotten this wasn't one of those Hollywood movies where stuff plays out well according to the script, this was real life.

We were a bit distant from home already, it would be dumb to suggest we turned back from there. We already stepped into the cold waters, no turning back.

As we walked, a pure solid beam of light cut right through the darkness and shone on us from behind. We halted and slowly turned. The amount of bright light that hit the cornea in my eyes was more than it could take. It caused me to shield my eyes with my hands.

When I was able to look closely, I realized the light shone from a torch. Though it was impossible to see who was behind it.

Must be one of the vigilantes, I guessed. That could just be another trouble for me, for us.

The torch began to draw closer to us, still impossible to see who held it. My instinct told me to run but on second thought, that might be a dangerous move if the person possessed a weapon, so I stood still. So did Olamipo.

The torch closed on us and the voice that held the torch spoke, "What do you two think you're doing out here?"

"Dad!?" Olamipo spoke in shock.

It was him.

But how did he...? The damn bottle must have woken him after all.

Mission crumpled.

"Yes. What are you two up to? What were you even thinking?" He frowned.

"E-hem... E-hem..." Olamipo stuttered.

"Ehem what!?" he yelled.

"Ehem, there was this message we received from Mide's number about things being under control and all. There was a number '1805' at the end of the message and a friend of ours told us meant trouble... Ehem, she said her grandma could help us if we wanted, so..." Olamipo spoke shyly.

"Message? Number? Why am I the last to hear about all these? And who-?" From his voice, one could tell he was losing it.

"It was all my idea!" I cut him off.

"Of course, it was!" he took a step towards me, raised his right hand, and swung the back of it across my face.

The thick back of his hand met my soft right cheek, forcefully, like a leather beaten on a freshly baked bread. My two hands held the cheek right up like it would fall off. It was burning hot, I could feel it.

"It's always you. You! Look at the mess you put us all in and still you wouldn't learn. Look at everything we've done all because of you. What is wrong with you!?" he yelled.

"Daddy!" Olamipo silenced him, held his hands, and pulled him some distance away from where I stood.

From where I stood, I could see that they were having a conversation. It was difficult to hear them, maybe because they were inaudible or because of the leather that hit my freshly baked bread. Perhaps my ears were affected for the short time.

I just stood there, frozen, not thinking, with my hands still holding my cheek up. The tears I expected never came. Maybe that was because I knew I was he was right, and I was wrong. They, my family, my dad, especially, had done a lot for me, I had put them in a series of trouble and it appeared I wasn't even thinking about them, I wasn't thinking of how much sacrifice they had made, just myself.

Selfish.

As much as I wanted to cry my lungs out, as much as I wanted tears to rush down my eyes, they never came.

My dad and Olamipo walked back to meet me after the little conversation they had. I expected another round of yelling and insults but there was none of that. Instead, he said he was sorry, pulled me into a tight hug, whispering the words again, "I'm sorry." His tone, tender and soothing. He meant it. It was just then the tears came rolling down my cheeks, streaming down my eyes like a river. Cries indeed make one feel better.

"I'm sorry, dad," I sobbed.

I don't know what my twin had told him in the little conversation they had but I think she deserved an award for 'the best friend' in the world for it.

She joined the hug, made a bad joke that lightened the mood, and we all laughed.

After, dad agreed to go with us to Titi's that night. If Titi was right about her grandmother, he was willing to get answers, too.

Hopefully, there were answers.

*