Gone Bad (Nigerian Novel) -Editing

Chapter 32 : Walking Dead

He blinks before slowly trying to hide his dissapointment with a playful smile.

Which part of my sentence made him sad, I had no idea.

"Did you find the service that bad?" he says in a way one would perceive a joke, but the hope holding out in his eyes told another story entirely.

"No..." I say lying through my teeth. "...More of the you know God thing."

"Oh."

I bend into my heels, nodding along with him for lack of a better reply.

"Can I ask you a question though? No two." he says, unintentionally reminding me of Isren's last two questions to me.

"Yeah just make it quick."

"Well for starters, are you angry at yourself or God?" Demilade says, without hesitation.

I stare at him, the knot in my throat expanding as the saliva ran dry.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I say once I can jumpstart my speaking engine again.

"You're not happy with doing whatever you want, even if it's cool in the moment. But you're just as down when you're around anything remotely religious." he says hitting the bullseye with his words.

"I really don't know and I don't feel like knowing." I snap irritated more so by how right he was, instead of my total exhaustion.

"Are you sure you're okay Nims? I know you're naturally rude but you sound like something is off..." Demilade asks bending so he could examine my face properly.

But he comes too close for comfort and my heart skips a beat.

I'm afraid he heard it when he coincidentally looks up to my eyes, but pair of concerned honey circles remind me to breathe.

Worry was the only thing on his mind, not how irritational my entire being acted in his presence.

Cursed emotions.

The backhanded insult only now registering in my head I almost snicker at his words 'naturally rude.'

"Relax it's nothing big, second question?"
I say.

He eyes me unimpressed by my delay tactic.

"Will you be available to come with me to Victoria's house this Wednesday? Thought we should give her a visit." Demilade asks.

My parents would never let me go anywhere near Victoria but I knew my father's sympathy for what had happened combined with his less stringent nature would help me find a way.

"Definitely. Text me the time and all, I have to go now." I say unable to stand so close to him when all I could remember was the taste of birthday cake and his lips.

His eyes increase by a fraction at my abrupt response but he seems to play along with me for my sake.

"Go before your parents castrate me in the House of God." Demilade says allowing me to sidestep him and I do my best to mirror a real smile before I dissapear out of his line of sight.

................

My head is against the window like my parents had always warned me against, but for the fact that everything in my life had vanished with the wind I didn't mind the implications.

The icy kiss of the glass window, brought me a small sense of comfort and I leaned into the feeling, some vapour warming the spot opposite my mouth where I had sighed.

Radio tunes of an annoying presenter on the family station, died down and I hear my Dad speak to me. "So are you ready for graduation?" he says, reminding me of the impending day only three weeks away.

After that only God knew what was next, my entire university destination was hanging in the air.

"Yes Daddy." I say, hoping the conversation would end there.

And it did. Except for the occasional small chatter I will left to drift into a peaceful limbo.

Bang.

My eyes fly open at the sound of the window vibrating against my skull and I see my mum had closed the door.

"Oya wake up, time to go inside." my Dad says, killing the engine.

Slowly I get my legs to remember how to move one after the other, and I alight the vehicle.

I take my microwaved sunday lunch up the stairs and lock myself in my room.

Chewing slowly my mouth takes the wheels, thus leaving my mind to venture into places I couldn't escape in the dark silence.

While Victoria may have used partying and sex as an escape, it didn't mean doing those two in itself were wrong or always painful.

Yet as I sat on my bed, the night felt a little final.

As much as the temporary high was addictive, my soul remained as empty as in the beginning.

I slam my plate on the bed, which only brought as unsatisfactory oomph from all the layered padding. "Don't even bother yourself." I mutter, silencing the murky thought.

Try Jesus?

If there had been any doubt before, now I was surely a prodigal child.

The childhood story floods through my mind and I struggle to push away the thought that God would somehow be overjoyed to see me.

Stuff made of dreams.

Grabbing my phone from the stands I turn on the bluetooth and press play.

Lyrics perfectly describing how dead I felt inside crashed against eachother as I worked myself into a desperate slumber.

The sleep comes with a haunting echo nestled inside my mind; what if the other side is better than your wildest dreams?