First a drop,then a drizzle. I looked up and saw a flash of lightning and almost immediately, the rumbling of thunder and I knew deep within me that it was going to be a long, gloomy and torturous night.
I was outside, on the streets of Taobi, a not so funny place to be at night but I dare not go back to my shelter. That should not be the term I call a place that has been housing my homeless body for eleven years but that was what it was to my mind. It was no home.
A home is a place of comfort, a safe haven, a place of rest and protection, a covering to a troubled soul and an encasement on a weary day but where I stayed wasn't all these things to me. In fact, it was the stark opposite and was devoid of all those blissful emotions. The only emotion that was constantly evident was PAIN.
I wish it was just bodily inflicted pain, somehow it could have been bearable, somehow I could have managed but that shelter was a place of pain for my body, my mind and my senses. I wasn't really good at expressing myself but who would when day in, day out for the past eleven years, all they have been accustomed to was massive maltreatment?!!!
My life was perfect while my mum was alive till she died of breast cancer, the cancer had spread too much and was discovered at stage four. It had already spread to parts beyond her breast and was already affecting her brain. I was barely four when all these things happened so I barely remember anything and most of what I know of my mum was from my dad.
It was still all good with my dad, if only he hadn't been caught in a cross fire between two stupid workers. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was eight years old when it happened and my dad was both my father as well as my mother - he executed both roles almost perfectly.
I always went to his place of work, which was a factory, a factory that produces milk. Powdered, condensed, liquid, almond, flavoured, evaporated, organic, sesame, name the type of milk and it was produced at The Fratinis. My dad was a respected supervisor who due to his hard work and diligence was made the head of both the condensed and liquid forms of The Fratinis.
That unfortunate day, I went there after school hours like I usually did, greeted some workers that were carrying some boxed evaporated milk that was ready for distribution, went to my dad's office, greeted him, hugged him and he hugged me back. I took a pack of chips from his stash of snacks and started my assignment.
After some time, we heard some ruckus outside of his office and he decided to take a look and asked me to remain on the couch till his return. He went out but after about two minutes of his going out, I heard the sound of a glass shattering. I was too curious to sit still in his office, I also became scared because as soon as I heard the shattering, the voices of the men who were obviously the cause of the ruckus grew louder and I could hear my dad's voice trying to quieten them.
I got out and saw some workers standing close to shelves that powdered milk was kept, my dad and two angry men facing each other with red eyes, flaring noses and balled fists. My dad stood between the men, admonishing both of them and it was looking like he had been able to calm them, till he made mention of the smaller man making a refund.
The man grew angrier and pushed my dad to the side and aimed for the bigger man. It seemed the security men in the company were already alerted and their hurrying steps on the stairs were heard, they soon appeared and dragged both men away from each other. As they were about to lead them out of the building and most likely to the police, the smaller man reached out to the side of the security man for his gun and aimed for the bigger man. My dad happened to see him and pushed the bigger man out of the way. He succeeded but failed at protecting himself and the bullet of the already fired gun hit my dad on his chest.
At that moment, I felt like I was in a time zone that was slower because the voices of the persons around that were screaming faded slowly and my focus was solely on my dad who was on his knees, clutching the left part of his chest with his right hand.
He looked up and his eyes held tears at the rim. He noticed me me and mouthed the words ''I love you'' and with his eyes still trained on me, his body swayed to his left.
It was then I was released from whatever initial shock I was in and I lurched forward and crouched by his side desperately begging him not to leave me as blood spurted from his mouth. A tear fell from his right eye and I was trying to apply pressure on his chest as I have seen in the movies, when I was lifted and carried by a man while some paramedics placed him on a stretcher and carried my dad to a waiting ambulance. I screamed and scratched at the man carrying me, desperately wanting to reach my dad but he didn't put me down.
My dad's sister was reached the same day and she came to get me. I didn't know what to feel with her around, I had only seen her once and she didn't even pay me much of an attention. Three days later when I asked of my dad she rudely told me the devastating news of my dad's death. I could not believe it, he left me, the only person I felt like my very life was on, was gone and left me with someone that was mostly a stranger to me.
At that moment, I felt like my lungs were punctured and I needed air to breathe. After four fruitless attempts to get air into my lungs, I felt light and I soon fell back, my eyes became hooded and I soon succumbed to a world of darkness. About three hours later, I woke up and sat up abruptly on an unfamiliar bed and the first thought that came to my mind was what my aunt said about my dad. I wanted to get out of the bed and saw tapes on my hand. I pulled it off my hand and the heart monitor began to beep like crazy and alerted the nurses who came running to my room. I was already on my feet and was about to take a second step to sprint out of the room when my feet wobbled beneath me. My body ruled forward and I was about to fall when a nurse caught me, placed me on the bed and I soon slept off.
I woke up to meet the unsmiling face of my aunt and the expressionless face of a man I hadn't met before but I would soon be very acquainted with as he would be a major contributor to my trauma and fears over the years. He was her husband, he was Dr Matthew Stone. A renown neurosurgeon in the country of Naylatan and beyond.
Two days later, they took me for my dad's funeral and afterward, to their mansion that would house my traumas.