I didn’t do it.

I didn’t do it.

You are sitting in front of your mother. You are fidgeting because you don’t know why she called you. She asked the question, ‘why did you do it?’ The question sounded like your church bell you find too loud and irritating to your ears. You wondered which of your deed and action could trigger the question.

Two weeks ago, you met a girl. You didn’t think of her as someone so special but still, you wanted to get close to her- the way you did not with other girls. Her name was Ella. You founded the name funny when she told you. You hid your sarcasm so she won’t get upset but the look on your face depicts that you wanted to laugh. You exchanged phone numbers with her and promised to call her after dinner. You didn’t. Five days after, you saw her talking to your best friend. They were laughing, and you wondered, ‘when did they meet?’ Later at night, you asked your best friend to meet you at an uncompleted building near his house. You spoke frantically and your best friend tried to calm you down. He touched you and you pushed him away. Immediately, you walked out of the building and headed home. You got home feeling guilty and you dialled his number. He didn’t pick. The next morning, you received a call that your best friend was found dead in an uncompleted building. You didn’t know that it was the push that caused his death.

You thought about the incidence that happened last two years, the incidence that won’t leave your mind when you see a lady sway her butt across you. You and your best friend had plotted a rape and successfully executed it. You raped her- the two of you- because you think she is too beautiful and she doesn’t want to talk to you. You video taped the rape and uploaded it on your school’s student website as an anonymous uploader. You disgraced the girl and she went ahead to hang herself. You were pertinent and promised to never do such again. You tried to talk your best friend into not doing something of such but he didn’t want to listen. That was why you were angry when you saw him with Ella. That was why you pushed him.

You remembered when your father asked you to behave decently two days ago. You told him to shut up. You told him he doesn’t care about you- he does actually- because he left your mother to fend for you and your siblings. You thought he got himself another wife five years ago- he did not. You didn’t know he caught your mother with another man and your siblings- two of them- are not his- they are the children of the other man. He left because he didn’t want to transfer the hate to you and your siblings. He left because he loved and would continually love you. He left because he cares.

Now, you are back to your mother. Pessimism is sitting beside you, smiling at you. You start sweating profusely even though the ceiling fan is at its highest. You look into your mother’s eyes, searching for the reason why she asked the question. Pessimism taps you and the only thing that comes out of your mouth is, ‘m-mm mum, I did, did-not ddo any anything on pur-pose.’ Your tongue has failed you, your sweat now feels like a hot lava, burning your skin. You are guilty, but somehow, you hope your mother would understand your intentions.



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