"Dozie is dead." Nurse Dima announced immediately after she entered the room.
But my attention was not towards her. My gaze was on the shadow that stood by the door a minute ago.
"Hello?" She snapped her fingers in my face. "Penny for your thoughts?"
I snapped away from the door and looked into her face with a furrowed brow. The young girl was still in my arms, whimpering softly.
"Didn't you see her?" I asked, taking a closer look at the door.
She was as confused as me. "Who?" She asked, reverting her focus to the door.
I shook off the thought and gently moved the girl to lay on the floor. I grabbed the walker and began making my way up.
"Where are you going?" She asked. Distracted by the girl on the floor, "Who is that?"
For a second, my eyes flashed at the girl and she looked up at me at the same time. My heart melted at the state she was in, but a more urgent issue was calling me to it. So, I began walking towards the door.
"I've got no idea." My voice echoed in the room as I continued to struggle my way to the door. "Guess I saved her from herself."
Nurse Dima ran towards me, halting my walker by resting her right hand firmly on it. "Tell me, what's going on?"
"You mean the girl or my adventure towards that door?"
Unrelenting, she blocked my path and stood in the way. "Both."
It was still early to tell her what I saw and honestly, there was no easy way to lay my burden at her feet.
I didn't want anyone diagnosing me with one of those mental health conditions. "You won't believe me even if I told you." I finally blurted out after winning the war in the courtroom of my mind.
"Try me." She argued.
I assessed her for a second and pushed my gaze towards the door again...searching. "My mother..."I began.
Now her attention was rattled. "Your mother what?" Her eyeballs almost popped out of the sockets. Whether by fear or intrigue, I couldn't tell.
"She was here!" I stuck my face towards the door emphatically. "She was standing there a second ago.
The Nurse swirled in the direction of the entry door and her gaze fell back on me after her two-second investigation. " Nah! No. I just came through that door and there wasn't anyone there, except for the police officer who just walked out."
"Then let me see for myself!" It was more of a plea than a command.
"And I am telling you there's no one there. Maybe?" Her gaze stayed on me, with her arms across her pink, dusty scrub.
"Maybe what?" I looked up at her expectantly.
"Maybe, you need a little rest. Your mind may be playing games on you." Her hardened stance softened and she placed her left hand on my shoulder, then subsequently took a stand by my side and out of my view. "See, there's nothing there." Her fingers pointed at the damaged door way which now had sharp edges because of the way it was ripped from its hinges.
It took a few seconds to convince me before I abandoned my adventure and we went back focusing on the girl on the floor. "She's one of the victims."
Her gaze fell on the girl who had curled herself into a fetal position. "She alleges that the army guy, Brigadier Musa also raped her."
"No!" Horror washed all over her face, followed by a wall of tears in her eyes. "Not possible! This little girl?"
I nodded regretfully. "She's not even above thirteen!" She let a few tears descend her dusty face, followed by a shade of anger and disgust.
"Mercy?" Nurse Dima called.
The girl stirred in response.
Quickly, my head swapped to face the nurse. "You know her?" She nodded. "I was once assigned to her care. So yes I know her." Gently she crouched down and gave the little girl a hand to lift herself off the floor.
We took a corner by the broken window while the rest of the people moved out of the room. My eyes went back to the television but someone had done the honors of turning it off for good, unplugging it from the socket.
"Good radiance!" I mumbled.
"Did you hear what I said previously?" Nurse Dima asked, redirecting my focus.
Simply, I shook my head, signifying a No. And If I did, I wanted to hear it again, to be sure. "So, you were saying?"
"Dozie is dead!" She repeated excitedly.
She couldn't be serious. Dozie couldn't just die. He was the string that held Mama's organization together. Without Dozie, I wondered if Mama could pull off some of the most extreme things she does.
The silence went by for a minute. "Why are you not excited about this news?"
I smiled wearily. "I am."
The news came to me with very mixed feelings. Death never felt right to me regardless of who the victim was.
"That's a very weird way of showing it." She admonished.
Sighing was my way of dealing with grief or pushing things away. And this I kept doing since Dozie's death came to the surface. "I need a visual confirmation."
Her hands raised in surrender. "He's right here in the morgue. In this hospital." Her nails tapped on the table lightly. "But if you insist, I'll take you to identify him tomorrow."
I nodded. I wasn't keen on seeing Dozie's dead face, I only wanted to forget what he'd done to me. Yet, that personal confirmation could help me in my journey to mental freedom.
But on second thought, she flashed her phone screen at me. "See for yourself. I even took a picture, We could still see him tomorrow If you want."
I peeped into her large phone screen and it was Dozie for real. He took a bullet in the head. The dent looked as though he'd been marked by the devil himself. He had some other bullets in his chest and sides.
"Alright. I believe you, but I need to see with my own eyes."
Nurse Dima placed the phone back into her scrub pockets searched the empty room nodded. "I think we should leave."
Gently, she helped Mercy and me up, and we strolled down the hallway toward what wasn't a patient room. It was more like a mini hostel, with two bunk beds, and four mattresses.
"This is our call room." She said, easing Mercy on one of the empty beds. I took the one opposite her. "I will go get something for you guys to eat, but until then, You all will stay here until I'm done with my shift. Okay?"
My head went up and down in agreement, but Mercy didn't say a thing. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing softly. I assumed she was asleep.
Soon, she was back with two bowls of hot rice and water. I didn't need anyone to tell me about it. There's been no meal for a good part of the day and this was just our first.
With evening almost upon us, Nurse Dima cleaned up and was ready to leave for her shift.
"Nurse Dima?" I called.
Her face lifted in a smile when she turned towards me. "Thank you."
She didn't wait for me to say more, since tears were already washing down my face. It felt so good to have someone in my corner. This nurse whom I didn't know from Adam just turned out to be my guardian angel.
"All will be well. Don't say anymore." Her soothing words traveled straight to my heart, comforting me.
Gently, her arms went around my back in an emotional hug. I realized she was also crying when I felt a drop of tears on my light nightwear.
When she got up, she wiped those tears off and walked briskly to the door. "Stay here please." She pointed at the floor. "No matter what... Stay."
Then she walked out of the door, locking us in.
My rest was cut short when I sensed a sudden movement in the room. Shuffling maybe and toned down voices. I must have slept for a couple of hours. Slowly, I flipped one eye open and searched Mercy's corner, she was fast asleep and in the same position as Nurse Dima left her.
My gaze fell on the ceiling, the tiny yellow light was still on, illuminating the already dim room. The door was still shut and the windows were intact. So my heart got a bit of relief.
Encouraged by the stillness, I turned on my side and faced the window on my left with my eyes closed, hoping to fall back to sleep. But I felt a being in the room. Even though my eyes were closed, A shadow lurked in my line of vision, darkening it.
Startled, I jumped to a sitting position. Lo and behold, My mother was standing there wearing the same clothes as the ones I had seen during the day. Her gaze fell on me lovingly while her hands hung loosely by her sides. A wig covered half of her face and tears cascaded her face.
"Mom?" I called as gawking fear dug into my guts.
She didn't respond, but just stood there deep in tears. I didn't see her shoulders shake, but tears kept falling like rain.
"Mother? Isn't that you?" I reached out to her but she moved further away, pushing the wig slightly off her face. There was a huge scar by the corner of her eyes and a band-aid behind her left ear.
Curious, my feet landed on the floor in a haste to reach out to her departing frame. "Why are you crying?" I pointed at her and moved closer. "And why do you have those bruises?"
No words came, She still didn't speak.
Instead, she pushed the wig to cover most of the cuts on her face. It was really weird because my mother never wore a wig. Our family was team 'natural hair'. My mother in particular would never put anything unnatural on her body. So seeing a dysfunctional wig on her was a huge surprise to me.
Even as she avoided my touch, I grabbed her right hand which was within reach. She whimpered in pain, stifling a long scream which happened anyway, except it did silently. With her mouth wide open a crushing air oozed out of her mouth, like she was gasping for peace.
Terrified, I pulled her closer, It was then that I saw her arm. Old and new bruises patched up the entire arm, some black, some blue, and some pink, red deep pink. There was another on her lips and the side of her face. When I reached out for the other hand, she moved it behind her.
"How....?" I choked on my words. It was heart-wrenching to see my mom in a sorry state. She couldn't even string two words together without shivering and glancing over her shoulders.
Apart from the clean clothes on her body, she was so messed up mentally that I began to imagine horrible scenes. "Why are you like this?" I pushed, rephrasing my question.
"You need to go back." She begged, ignoring my questions. Her appearance pierced my heart in pieces... I had so many things to tell her, so many things I wanted to share with her but none of that mattered anymore - Not the welcome I anticipated.
Those horrible words were the last thing I expected to hear from her. How was she not happy seeing me now? How was she even here? finding me in this room and not screaming her lungs out for someone to rescue us, me?
"Why?" I asked in between quiet sobs. Yes, I was crying, repulsed by her selfishness. Her head just shook so much that I thought it was going to break, but then I realized it was a groan that was deeper than words.
"Please go back." Her palms shook over her chest.
To say I was shocked would be putting it mildly. I was beyond shocked, my mind soul, and body went numb and then my knees buckled and pushed me to the ground.
Her Whisperings didn't stop, neither did she even act as though she missed me. All she did was repeat those painful words, "Go back."
All the imaginations of how I would be received when and if I eventually get free, came falling like a pack of cards. The treasured hunger for warmth, for my family, sank like a log of wood.
Nobody was missing me.
No one wanted me home.
There'd be no hugs.
No excitement.
No celebration.
No reunion.
No family.
I hissed at those thoughts. If she wasn't my mother, I may have done something I'd never done before, hit her. But no, I was bound by the laws of nature And African traditions, and most importantly loved to watch a mother who didn't know the horror I'd been through tell me to go back to my abductors.
I sniffed and shook my head. Slowly, I pulled body up and gazed into her puffy eyes long enough to give her a shudder. "No."
"Please my daughter, please." Her plea went on like a broken record.
Sifting through every word she had come out of her mouth, All that remained of her in my heart was that face of anguish and her weird hope that I, Linda Ifemezuie was the answer and reprieve for whatever deal that was made without my knowledge.
There was nothing more to say, so I just stood there and watched her repeat herself over and over. It didn't shift me, instead, I saw her differently, I felt different. It hardened my heart and still broke me, but I chose to stifle my tears, to raise my head above water.
Unexpectedly, multiple beeps broke into our whispering conversations. She fished her phone from her bra pocket, looked at it, and gasped in horror, followed by her trembling grip around the device.
Swiftly, the phone got shoved back into her bosom, then she began to walk away. Her foot was almost in front of the other before she turned and gently touched my shoulders,
"Do it for me. For your sisters."