A tear slipped down my left cheek. Everything was confusing and scary. The thought of having a glitch in my memory made me think I started having signs of a sort of fatal syndrome.
Even thoughts of me losing more memories began to scare me, also, rage was beginning to boil in me as I continued to imagine thoughts of myself leaving, just like dad.
"It can't be," I subtly said.
Knowing how fragile mum's heart could be when it came to me, also because she was still in the process of recovering from the effect of dad's death, I decided to bottle it somewhere deep in my head.
I lay on my bed as I began to cry on the pillow, slowly I fell asleep.
BRRRRIIIIINNNNGGGG
As usual, lazily stretching my arm to the side table, I tapped the alarm clock off. With groggy and heavy eyes, I searched in the dark space for my flip-flops, stretching my legs here and there hoping to reach them, tiredly, I walked to the toilet after my feet got a hold of them.
Turning the doorknob, I entered and fell on the toilet seat. My room's lights were not on, it was 4:30 am and was still quite dark, so there was no source of light to brighten up my room. I just sat there in the darkness, took a piss, and remained there.
I refused to switch the lights on, I refused to stand from the seat, I just remained there, letting the tears freely flow from my eyes as I remembered yesterday's event.
"HA HA HA!" I laughed as I remembered when dad died, I was just like this. I hid from mum because I didn't want to provoke her tearing up, always staying up in the night crying after comforting her to sleep.
"HA HA HA HA" I continued laughing as the hot tears flowed uncontrollably from my red and swollen eyes. My head was pounding, but I let myself fall and crawl up on the cold bare floor in despair.
There, on the floor lay I, a teenager who believes it's the end of her world because she's been convinced that she's been plagued with some kind of brain illness.
I wasn't wearing the jeans I wore to school yesterday. Mum must've removed them while I was in the depth of my sleep, also, she must've turned the lights off. Instead, I was wearing my favorite pink nightgown. I knew it, for it was the only silk nightgown I owned.
Soon, my heartbeat quickened, my breathing required more effort, It seemed I was getting another panic attack.
I knew not to be foolish, laying down there on the floor would only make matters worse, In the end, mum would find out. Which was exactly what I didn't want.
I forcefully dragged myself from the floor. On all fours, I crawled slowly, navigating my way to the drawer next to my bed, where I keep my panic depressants.
Moving in the order of right hand and left leg, and vice versa, I carefully moved towards the drawer in the dark, out of breath.
When my hands could feel a wooden structure, I traced my fingers around it until I found the handle, dragged it open, and deepened my hand in it.
My hands searched inside it and grabbed my drugs when it felt its familiar container. I sat there, in front of my drawer beside my bed on the floor, popped two pills in my mouth, and downed it with the bottled water I usually keep on top of the drawer.
My head fell exhausted on my bed. It was then I realized I needed to take a break from crying. Slowly, I began to feel better, my heart began to beat at a normal pace. Picking myself up, I walked in the direction of where the switch of the lights was situated.
My hands on the wall, I searched for the switch. On finding it, I switched the lights on.
I raised my hands with force at reflex and blocked my eyes, as light found its way piercing through them, giving a rather uncomfortable sting. After a while, regaining my composure, I started preparing for school. It was Friday.
Soon, the sun announced its presence as my room became brighter, I stretched and glanced at my clock while tucking in my white shirt into my black and white check skirt, it was 6:49 am.
I wore my black socks one after the other as I sat on my laid bed, and did the same to my black boots. Standing and grabbing my already packed black backpack, heading downstairs, I opened my room door. Immediately, the aroma of freshly fried pancakes hit my nostrils, mum was making breakfast.
I went downstairs, dropped my backpack on the dining table, and walked to the kitchen. Mum was frying eggs, on the counter behind her lay already made pancakes in a ceramic plate, with a fork inside it.
"Must be mine", I thought.
I picked the plate, mum was still busy frying the eggs, she didn't notice my presence in the kitchen. I sat on the counter watching her rearview as I began dividing the pancakes in the plate into small pieces. Eating the pancake piece by piece, and watching her skillfully flip the eggs continuously in the pan on low heat. She looked like a professional cook.
Smiling, I continued eating the pancakes. They were delicious, as usual. Soon, the gas cooker went off, the noise from the hot oil ceased. She turned the half fried egg into a white ceramic bowl, her back still at me.
When she was done, she turned to face me. "How was your night, Lis?" Shocked, I choked on the pancakes. Hitting my chest hard, I gestured for her to bring me a glass of water. Looking a bit alarmed, she swiftly got me a glass of water which I took two gulps from.
I got better soon after I took the gulps. Giving her a deathly glare, I whined, "since you knew I was here, why didn't you even do or say anything?!"
"I thought you knew I knew that you were here. Since you didn't say anything, I didn't want to either." She replied with a straight face.
"Huh, I only did that because I was trying to scare you mom", I whined once more.
"You've been scaring me lately, I know you're doing this intentionally," I whined yet again as I stuffed my mouth with the remaining pancakes in the plate, jumped down from the counter, and headed for the door.
"I'm going to school, bye", I left and shut the door behind me.
Looking at my wristwatch, the time was 7:13. "Phew, I'm not late," I muttered to myself.
Looking at my watch again, it was 7:34. I passed the school gates and the intimidating-looking security guards. As usual, they were staring at me, I looked away from them and made my way inside the school.
I memorized my timetable, I had Commerce.
As a commercial student, I had to offer this subject. I was now familiar with designated parts of the school, so finding the commercial class was not difficult.
I turned the doorknob of the class that had a bold commerce board pasted on its door. Entering, the class looked fuller than the usual classes I attended. Almost all chairs were filled, maybe more people preferred the commercial department to others, which was odd.
Nobody noticed me as I walked into the class, they continued with their business. Everyone in groups of two, three, and four, chattering with each other as they waited for the arrival of the teacher. Looking around the class, I found an empty seat close to the wall, just beside the window.
I reached the seat, dropped my backpack on the desk, and sat in it. I reached for my phone in my bag, opened it, and searched on Alzheimer's syndrome, many websites revealed themselves. Suddenly, a loud bang was made on the wall behind, at the back of the class, just as I was about to tap on one of the sites that seemed to possess reliable information.
I dropped my phone on my desk in shock as I saw a student on the floor, he was pushed. The chairs were scattered because of his fall, he must have hit his head real hard.
Just in front of him stood Mohammed. He looked different from the cute and innocent person I remembered, looking so viciously as he stood over the boy, he uncapped the bottle of water he held firmly in his hand and poured it all over the boy. The boy whimpered as the water made contact with his skin.
I looked around, nobody moved. Everyone watched as this boy was harassed, some, even laughed as this boy received this treatment. He lay helplessly on the floor in wet clothes.
I sat fixated in my seat, for a little while I couldn't move, I couldn't even blink, I was too shocked. I watched as Mohammed leaned downwards as if he wanted to whisper something in his ear.
"NEXT TIME, DON'T LOOK ME IN THE EYE!!" Mohammed screamed into the ear of the boy. The boy winced in pain, but couldn't do anything still.
"I promise, I'd never look you in the eye again," he replied immediately in a submissive tone with a cracking voice.
Still, no one wanted to intervene, they just watched the scene with amused faces. I shook my head at the injustice and turned my eyes away from them. I felt incapable of doing anything, maybe others felt the same too. It'd be foolish to try and do something when it was obvious that Mohammed was highly feared.
I picked my phone from the desk, unlocked it, and continued where I left off from. I was scrolling on the information about Alzheimer's syndrome.
The boy was still on the floor and Mohammed was still 'disciplining' him, he had started hitting him. Sounds of heavy kicks echoed in the now awfully quiet class, also the sounds of pain the boy made gave a disturbing feeling, but I didn't look back. I made it a habit to always mind my business, therefore, I continued with what I was doing without giving them attention.
"It's okay now, I believe he's taken enough." It was Chase's familiar voice. I turned my head in the direction of his captivating voice. At the door, stood Chase. He wore khaki looking trousers and a black top, his sling black Nike bag was slung across his body. He looked calm, his eyes still, and his whole composure gentle. He gave off a superior aura. The sounds stopped immediately.
He turned after, walking towards me and revealing his black and white-soled Nike shoes. We made eye contact as he found his way to an empty seat in the middle of the class, I looked away immediately, trying to get myself occupied looking blankly at my phone. It was indeed an awkward situation.
When he walked past me, I breathed a sigh of relief, as I regained my composure. Looking properly at my phone, I realized I was holding it upside down. Shaking my head at how just one person's presence affected my organisation, I turned my phone to its proper position and unlocked it. Immediately, a woman walked in.
She was an outrageously tall woman, wearing high heels greatly amplified her height. I saw as she bent her head to enter the class, that's how tall this woman stood.
She was an extra thin woman, but what was even more surprising about this woman's body was her bulging breasts. They were incredibly big. She walked in a strange manner, protruding her chest, and so increasing the look of her already big breasts. She was a typical figure 9. Wearing a tight stretchy pink top and a tighter blue office skirt, holding her matching blazer in one hand and a note and marker in the other hand, she looked professional.
But what was so striking about this abnormal woman was her confidence. For the manner in which she carried and showcased her imperfection was with no doubt appealing, in fact, seductive. She wore mild makeup and flaunted her full healthy black afro, looking like a woman in her late twenties, a beautiful woman.
She looked at the ruckus made in the back of the class, where the earlier incident happened. Following her eyes, I turned my head. The boy still lay on the floor, he was in immense pain, couldn't even lift himself. Her eyes widened as if she understood exactly what happened.
"You, and you," She pointed at two boys. "Carry him to the school clinic, tell the nurse that it's a code blue. Drop him and return." She ordered with a straight face.
My eyes naturally looked at the perpetrator, Mohammed. He was smiling as he blew air on his nails and admired them. My heart clenched as I automatically developed a hatred for him.
I watched as the two boys carefully carried the beaten up boy, he cried silently in pain as he was lifted. For every cry I heard, my heart broke further. Nobody gave him attention, even the teacher was writing on the board.
"What… in hell is this school?" I sighed.