She stood there reminiscing the memory she had of them as she looked at the bed. Recalling the moments of nights ago. She had pulled those sheets on his bed, her fingernails still had evidence of DNA and cotton. She wanted to hate every moment. Her blood pumped hate.
It was her first night and she remembered it like it was yesterday. The rhythm of their bodies, the union of souls. How each stroke made her whole and every sound carried magic never heard of.
But it lay only in her memory. A memory she wanted so badly to erase. The same sheet that meant the world to her was shared with another female without even blinking an eye. She saw them even if they didn’t see her. Body for body, shameless in their acts.
He lay there forgetful of the promises he made to her, dead in the night, of the words spoken between them when birds slept and the moon offered comfort. He forgot how valuable her innocence was as he took it like a warrior seized victory. Yet he threw it all away to make the same promise to another.
Pain surged her being like electricity beneath a coated wire. Her thoughts burned her as her mind conflicted images. How could he? She questioned. Was she not enough? Was her love not sufficient?
She didn’t know which emotion to express, the urging pain or the scorching anger? She let her anger hold the reins. Like a raging bull, she pounced on those sheets that tasted her blood and tore them to halves. She tore and threw everything that stood in her way. Yet the anger grew.
She felt murderous. She wanted him to feel every pain he caused her. She wanted to draw blood, to make him an example to others. She threw caution to the wind and waited. Knife in hand and a heart as cold as steel.
She wouldn’t give him any more chances to repent. He had all the chances but he took none. Tonight would serve her revenge. Then she heard his voice. The same voice that melted her heart the first day they met. The same voice that had an influence on her.
She fell for this man, gave him everything. Couldn’t he see? He was blind, she thought. Maybe they could work things out. Maybe he had a reason, she started to rethink.
Then she heard a female voice. He still had a female companion? She waited to hear more, she heard a moan. This time, her anger boiled. That was it! She thought. He couldn’t be redeemed and he didn’t care.
What the hell happened here? He screamed as he saw the state of the house.
Oh my God! Where you robbed? The lady companion asked.
He hated her, hated him. Her plans were ruined by her presence. She couldn’t kill him with her being a witness. If she did, she would have to kill her too and she didn’t want to. For all she cared, she was also a victim. Fallen for a man who cared less and killing him would be saving her poor, ignorant soul.
She had to leave to fight another day. She thought of how to escape without being seen. Then she heard footsteps. It was the lady, so she hid. The lady said something and her voice sounded familiar.
Wait! It couldn’t be or could it? She thought. She managed to sneak a peek from her hiding place to look at her.
Her knife dropped, her cover was blown. But that wasn’t her trouble. It was Ijeoma! Her own flesh and blood.
Even you Brutus! She exclaimed in shock. Now she had more reasons to kill.
If your blood and your man took every piece of you and thrashed it, jail wouldn’t be a bad place to stay, she thought angrily.