(This is the sequel to the “Crazy” post, which you should read first.)

He spotted me as I aimed the gun and as I fired he positioned my sister in front of him to protect himself. I watched as my sister’s body slumped on the bed and he ran from the room. Of course I hadn’t meant to kill her, maybe injure her but he had been my target all along. I didn’t need any ringing in my ears to push me. I was fueled with rage.

Rage from all the years he had stolen from me, Rage that he had now stolen my only sister from me. Rage that he had stolen the only family I had left. I threw the gun to the floor and picked up a piece of wood, heavy enough to do enough damage, light enough for me to swing with some element of freedom. The ringing started again.

I marched into the house, adrenaline fueling my movements. I expected him to be ready for me; he had seen me kill my own sister. He had seen the look in my eyes, the look that said I was ready to kill. It was a situation of impasse. It was kill or be killed. And I intended to be the killer here.

I took off my heels. I didn’t want to draw attention to where I was and I didn’t want to be slowed by my shoe. I pushed open the door and threw my heels in. No reaction. He wasn’t there. I stalked in through the kitchen, keeping my back to the walls.

I moved in, making my way to his bedroom which was at the end of the house. I would have to cross the space between the living room and the passage way leading to the bedroom to get there. He had turned off the lights. He was somewhere around. Probably lying in wait for me. Hoping to stab me in the back again.

I turned on the lights and made my way to the bedroom. Light reflected on a surface in front of me. In an instant I realized what it was. I turned round swinging the plank of wood I was holding. He was coming at me with a knife and he raised his hands to deflect the blow. The knife flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor a few meters away from us.

He rushed at me, grabbing me and knocking the wood away from my hand. We both tumbled to the floor and I hit the floor hard. He grabbed at my throat and began choking the life out of me. I guess a slow death was what he had planned for me. The world was spinning and the lights were dimming. I couldn’t breathe and my vision was blurring with polka dots in the every corner.

And with my last amount of strength I raised my knee to his groin. He doubled over in pain. Gasping for air, I spotted the knife a few feet away, I crawled toward it. He spotted where I was headed and grabbed my leg. I kicked him in the face. He had recovered quicker than I imagined and he grabbed me, ready to go in for the kill. And I plunged the knife into his side.

I stood up and watched as he bled. I grabbed the piece of wood and raised it down on his head. Again and again and again and again. Till I couldn’t raise my arms again. And then I blacked out.

There was a pounding somewhere. I opened my eyes to see I was in my bed. I was cleaned, bathed and in my pajamas. I moved to open the door and saw that my en suite bathroom had been cleaned spotless and there was the faint scent of bleach.

“Yes, who is it?” I asked, sounding groggy.

“It’s the police”

I opened the door to see two policemen in their black uniforms, eyes cold and mouths thin.

“Yes, how may I help you officers?” I asked with a yawn

“We’re here about your boyfriend. It seems he was killed.”

“Why would you think that?” I ask.

“Because his gate man returned late this evening to find the house and gate unlocked and the house spotless with a faint smell of bleach. Not many gate men can speak proper English, so we decided to investigate. And his claims were correct so we’re looking into what might be his murder.”

“One other thing.” The second officer chirped in. “It seems your sister might have been killed as well. The gate man also said he saw someone who we’ve identified as your sister going in today, right before his oga asked him to leave. So whatever or whoever got to him might have gotten to her as well. ”

With that, I fell on the floor, bursting into tears.

“We made plans today,” I wailed “We were supposed to go out and have fun and cheer me up. I called her but she didn’t show so I thought maybe she was busy.”

With that I wailed even louder.

“We’re sorry ma’am to have disturbed you” The officers left like there was a dog napping at their heels.

The ringing started and I smiled to myself. Maybe I was crazy after all.


The Perks Of Being A Wallflower

This movie! An absolute best! It was a Saturday night and me, (being me) was bored out of my wits. The internet wasn’t working so twitter was out of the options.  I went out and grabbed a pack of pepper rice and a carton of iced tea and settled back into my room. My roommate was not in the room (those are one of the best times) and the weather was cold. (Weather for two!!) I grabbed my blanket and switched on my laptop looking for a movie to watch. I settled on the perks of being a wallflower seeing as I had collected it for a while now and hadn’t watched it and I dug into my food.

And well, I loved watching the movie. It’s about a guy named Charlie (Logan Lerman) who had a bit of a mental breakdown after his best friend kills himself, and has to start his freshmen year at high school. He’s a bit of a loner and quite shy too so he doesn’t have any friend at school, his sister, Candace (Nina Dobrev) is a senior and she’s always with her boyfriend and well his old friends don’t want to be seen with him.

He gets picked on and teased. (High school children are the meanest btw) but he does absolutely well in his English class (the only class they show him in) and this makes sense because he’s an aspiring writer. His English teacher notices his talent and they become some sort of friends (as friendly as you can be with your teacher).

He however still has no friends in school, till he takes a seat with Patrick (who is in his freshmen tools class) at a football game and then becomes friends with Patrick, his step-sister, Sam (Emma Watson) and the other members of the crew.

He later develops feelings for Sam but she has a boyfriend. On Christmas after a party with the crew in which Charlie shows them how well he knows them by picking the right gifts for all of them, Sam invites him into her room, gets him a classic typewriter as a gift, reveals a lot more about her past, tells him she loves him and gives him his first kiss, even though she’s still with her boyfriend.

Sam’s friend, Mary Elizabeth likes him and asks him out to a dance and they make out after the dance and Mary Elizabeth calls him her boyfriend. (After just making out? White people are cray.) The best part is that she’s basically a psycho girlfriend, holding hands everywhere, calling every minute, and those other entire things psycho girlfriends do and Charlie still has feelings for Sam.

During a game of truth or dare with the gang, Patrick dares Charlie to kiss the prettiest girl in the room and Charlie (brianiac!) kisses Sam, right in front of everyone. Charlie and Mary Elizabeth break up and the entire gang stops talking to him. Charlie starts to relapse again.

Patrick gets into a fight with a couple of his boyfriend’s (Brad) friends (he’s gay but he’s boyfriend isn’t openly gay, so they have no idea and he can’t stop them without it seeming suspicious. Much ado about nothing) Charlie comes to his aid and knocks two of the guys (the guy dey punch!) and blacks out.

The group accepts him back and Mary Elizabeth has a new boyfriend, while Sam’s boyfriend has been cheating on her the whole time. Patrick and the gang are graduating (they are all seniors) and each of them going away to college.

On the night before Sam goes off to college, she tells Charlie that she feels empty after she broke up with Greg (her boyfriend) and asks why all her friends ended up dating people who treated them badly, and he replies saying that “we accept the love we think we deserve” (I love that quote, btw Charlie got that from his English teacher when he asks him the same question). She tells him she wants someone that loves her for her and not just a crush and he tells her he knows who she is and kisses her. They make out (and? I can’t say the screen faded out. Use your imagination)

Patrick and Sam leave the next day and Charlie has a breakdown and blacks out. Apparently he has a series of flashbacks showing his deceased aunt molested him. He gets better after a few months and Patrick and Sam come to visit.

It ends with a kiss from Sam and Charlie doing the titanic move (the one where the Rose spread out her arms like she was flying) with Patrick driving through the tunnel.

I love this movie (have I said that before? And not because I can relate to the whole sad, lonely writer thingy the guy has got going on, or the whole listening to sad, music which nobody else listens to groove that Sam and Charlie have going on, but the concept of the movie as a whole and the fact that he got the girl. Emma Watson is a total babe!) I love this movie (It even made some unknown liquid escape from my eye) and it as a whole was a wonderful production, as well as silver linings playbook. (Do I sense a pattern here?)

Wonderful wonderful movie. (I’m sure you get the point.)


I tightened the noose I had hung on the ceiling fan. I was going to do it; I was going to take my own life. The pain was just too much for me to bear any more. I had gotten the rope from the yard downstairs where we spread our laundry and waited for my roommate to leave for service. I locked the door and closed all the blinds; no one was going to stop me my mind was made up.

I took a chair and climbed on it, using it to hoist myself up to the rope. I would kick it when I was ready to let go of the pain. I put my neck through the rope and tightened the knot.

And then I thought of everything I was leaving behind. My single mom and my two baby sisters. My father had been dead for a while now. I could say anywhere in the world that my dad was the absolute best. He had the most caring eyes, the brightest smile and ears that loved to listen. He’d always make time for me no matter what he was doing. He was a writer and a very good one at that. We’d always had one day of the week to ourselves. He would say “Just us men” and that it was “our little secret”.

We would just go out and have a good time. It didn’t matter where we went; as long as my father was there I was happy. My mother understood our bond and never questioned it. He included the ladies in our fun once a month. I would sometimes get jealous or feel deprived of my time with my father but my dad would remind me with a smile on his face that we were one big happy family and that we were supposed to love and care for each other and I was the little man of the house and it was my responsibility.

I can never forget the day he died. We had gone on one of our little “men’s day out”. We had gone to a club in ikoyi. I was just a little over ten. My father and I had lunch. We both had the mixed grill and I had gobbled up mine in a flash because I was eager to jump into the pool. My father on the other hand was taking his time even though we were supposed to swim together. A bunch of his friends came over and sat down and my father paid no attention to me.

I wondered off and found myself in a part of the club I wasn’t familiar with. There were tables and chairs, thinking about it now it looked like a sort of conference room or banquet hall. It was empty and I hid under one of the tables, determined to punish my dad for ignoring me on our special day. Time flew by as my eyes grew heavier and before I knew it I laid on the floor and I was fast asleep.

I remember lights flashing in my eyes as I woke up. It was dark everywhere as people were shouting that they had found me. My dad didn’t scold me but instead hugged me. The manager apologized to my dad and my dad gave some notes out to those who had helped in the search.

He didn’t say a word as we got into the car and began the drive back home. I remember us driving across the a road and thinking “why was it empty?” and then my dad stopped at a roadblock and then the people there told him to give them all his belongings because apparently we were being robbed.

I remember my dad saying he didn’t have anything on him and right in front of me one of the robbers shot him in cold blood. The robbers took off and left me there. I don’t remember much else form that night but I was told that I was found in the morning.

It took two years for me to fully recover from being the cause of my father’s death, my mom waited on me every single day of those years, leaving her job. She went back to work part-time after I had recovered.

It’s been nine years now, mom lost her job two years ago after she had an accident. The company said she’s too much of a variable and that’s why they fired her. Now she goes out at night and comes back home real late because she has to take care of all of us especially me, seeing as my medication is expensive. I’m always awake to open the door for her because I have insomnia.

My sisters aren’t doing so much in school because they have to take care of me sometimes and being constantly sent home because of school fees.

I realized one day when someone asked me why I never talked about my father that I was the cause of every pain my family was going through and I couldn’t bear that burden anymore. And now I was going to end it with a pull of a rope and a kick of the chair.

I thought of the greater pain I would cause by taking my own life and I realized something. I couldn’t do it. I said a single prayer of forgiveness like my mother always said I should. This wasn’t the plan my creator had for me. If I was supposed to be dead I would have died with my father. I couldn’t let my mother lose her two men she loved because of me. I was about to unhook the noose from my neck when a rat scampered across the room. I had an obsessive fear of rats and I instinctively jumped.

The chair fell from the suddenness of my move and I was left hanging from the rope. The noose tightened around my neck as I started gasping for breath. I pulled at the rope as it dug tighter into my skin. The world was starting to fade away. I guess I was going to join my father after all.


I hid under the bed holding my favorite teddy bear close. I pressed myself flat on the ground; it hurt as my nipples were sensitive. But the pain I was feeling was nothing compared to the pain I would feel if my father found me. I hoped my mother would succeed in calming him down but something inside me told me that the odds of that happening were quite slim. I heard the combined sound of my father’s angry voice and my mother’s pleading coming slowly up the stairs. I thought about the events of the day as I moved further under the bed.

My father had told me for as long as I could comprehend things that he never wanted to see me with a boy, talk to one, hold hands with one or even acknowledge one. He said it was for my safety and that boys would destroy me like they had destroyed his sister – an aunt I had never seen. After 14 years I was curious as to what evils boys would do to me but my fear of my father and the memory of the last time he lashed me with his belt out-weighed every bit of curiosity in me.

All the boys in school had been warned by the principal and the entire teaching staff not to approach me, my father is an influential figure in the school and so he was respected and feared and most of what he said was law. But today, a new student was transferred in, he was the cutest boy I had seen and he stood out from all the others. He was tall, surprisingly built, with dark skin, coal black eyes, wavy hair, shining white teeth and a model’s face. The story was that he and his parents were returning to the country after some years abroad. I pushed him to the back of my mind as I focused on the classes of the day.

The time flew by, the day dragging on. He passed by my seat during break and smiled at me, revealing his beautiful white teeth, making butterflies fly in my stomach. I swallowed and went back to being on my own. School was over and I packed my books into my bag in a hurry and as I turned to leave he was right beside me giving me a sly grin. My heart was beating faster and everyone in class was looking at him, shocked that he dared to talk to me. I tried maneuvering round him but he was quick and followed me for every step.

“I’m not moving until you say something to me” he said with his beautiful bass voice.

“Please…” I croaked out.

“School is barely over, chill a bit”

“I have to get home, my father mustn’t know about this. I have to be home in 15 minutes. Please.”

“Okay, but at least let me walk you home” he said with another perfect smile.

I agreed because it was a losing battle either way. He was determined to talk to me and he wasn’t bulging.  And besides he was the first boy I had spoken to in almost all my life. His name was David. We walked and talked and I realized that apart from being the most handsome boy I had seen, he was also smart and funny. He told me how beautiful I was, the only other person who had said that was my mother during the nights when we would sit in front of her mirror and brush my hair and apply Aloe Vera to it until it shone.

It was barely a 15 minute walk but it was like I had spent a day with him. Two blocks from my house, I had to let him go for I didn’t want anyone to see me walk in with a boy in tow. He gave me this look of understanding, and as he turned to go, he gave me a quick kiss on my lips. I was stunned. No one had ever done that before. He smiled and left. If I had been fair, I would have been pink all over.

My father’s car wasn’t in the driveway. He wasn’t due till 5. I walked in feeling on top of the world with a fuzzy feeling in my stomach. The door was open as usual and I shouted a quick greeting to my mom who was always in the kitchen at this time preparing lunch. I walked into the living room to see my father seated on a couch, looking angry. I mumbled a quiet ‘good afternoon sir’ and he turned to face me.

“Who was that boy I saw you with?” he shouted at me.

“What boy, sir” thinking he couldn’t have seen me with David.

“The boy I saw kissing you.” I knew then that I was in trouble. I had violated my father’s most treasured rule and I had gotten flogged for less.

My mother walked into the room, saying that I should go upstairs while trying to reason with my father. He pulled out his belt and I ran up the stairs, into my room and under my bed.

Their voices were becoming louder. My father barged into the room with my mother behind him.

“How many times do I have to tell what boys did to my sister?”

“Dapo, please. She’s just barely a child”

“She disobeyed the one rule that was most important to me and so she must be flogged.”

I peeked from my hiding place and saw his shining black shoes walk to the side of the bed and walk away. I felt relief.

“So you think you can hide from me?” he shouted from beside me. I screamed and ran out on the other side. My mother was quick to come in between us.

“Bimpe, run!!!” she screamed at me. I moved back slowly. My father walked towards me, with even more fury on his face. She pulled on his arm to slow him down and using his elbow he pushed her away from him. She slipped on a doll and fell hitting her head on the ground and the next thing I saw was blood flowing from the back of her head contrasting against the white floor of my bedroom.

I screamed again as I ran, my father still coming towards me. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, running out into the street. The skies were dark when I finally stopped moving. I had been walking for hours; I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t even go back if I wanted to. My mother’s face as she lay on the floor and my father’s wrath were the images I pictured when I thought of home.

I looked up and saw that the neighborhood had changed; I was no more in the area of classy, well designed houses with driveways. I was in the area of poor housing and sanitation. I heard the loud voices of some men coming towards me. I didn’t know where to go so I bowed my head letting my hair cover my face as I walked quickly past them.

“Baby.” One of the men called just as I had walked past them. I pretended to not hear them. I instantly felt someone pull me before I saw them. His breath smelt strongly of alcohol.

“The babe set o!” he called out to his friends as he pulled at my breast. He was rewarded with a slap on the face from me. His face twisted in anger as he pushed me down and gave me some punches. I couldn’t move. I was pinned to the ground between his legs and I was seeing stars from the blows I just received. All I heard were the multiple sounds of belts un-buckling – a sound I was familiar with – and the pull of zippers as I faded into black.

I don’t recall my eyelids opening but I found myself in a space, with darkness everywhere. It was thick and choking. I heard voices calling me back from a place that was vaguely familiar. And then I saw my mother dressed in shining white walking towards me with the biggest smile on her face. I looked down and saw I was wearing a white dress too. She took my hand and we walked off towards the light with our white garments shining in the dark.

My Happy Ending

I had it all figured out. You would fall in love with me the way I fell in love with you. We would get married and have kids. You would be the perfect mother, always there for her children and her husband, looking perfect and beautiful as always. I fell in love with your beautiful eyes even though they were contacts, your long, beautiful dark hair even though they were extensions, your long legs that went on forever, the way you signed your name with a little heart on top, the way your trousers grabbed you, the way I knew without even touching, that your body was perfect and the way the cleft in your lips would fit perfectly with mine, everything about you was simply perfection. I had fallen and fallen hard. You were my happy ending.

We started talking by accident. We knew each other but we had never crossed the bounds of ‘hi’ friends. It started with a game of numbers. You would pick a number and send it to all your friends and they would publicly post what they felt about you putting only your numbers. Your comments were less than kind but they were well intended and I took it a bit to heart, wasting no time in telling you how I felt. You apologized stating that hurting me was not your intentions.

School resumed and your face was the first face I wanted to see, every other face was a blur till I saw yours. We sat and talked for hours and I would stop talking to stare into your blue eyes. On other girls, blue eyes would have looked stupid, disgusting maybe, but with you it was refreshingly beautiful. When I had to leave you it felt like there was a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow. The next day, once I saw your face, all my lumps were gone.

I had to impress you; your approval meant the world to me. My dressing improved drastically, I consulted my top fashionable friends and listened as they matched colors, and different combos and I would beam from ear to ear as I saw your approval. You had a boyfriend but I didn’t care. I knew love would prevail.

My birthday came and I wanted you to have a taste of my red velvet cake, like it was a taste of my heart. You were a vegetarian, so I made sure not to forget as I thought to buy meals for you. A few days after my birthday we were to leave school for Christmas break, before we left my closest friend told me to stop talking to you, I asked him why but he said “nothing” and I didn’t press him, he was my closest friend and I trusted his judgment. Besides, he had known you for close to three years now after he had crushed on you in our first year, although nothing had happened between the two of you. Christmas break was painful. I wouldn’t see you for a month even though we stayed in the same state, but I made sure to tweet and mention you all the chances I got.I called and we talked. I even got curious as to why my closest friend wouldn’t want us talking, and so I questioned you about it. You said you didn’t have any idea but I should ask him. I did and he said nothing again and that I should forget about it and I did.

The break was eventful, your best friend was celebrating her birthday and of course all of her closest girls were invited along with her boyfriend and two of her male friends. And of course with the celebration came pictures, the picture of the day being one you took with one of your male friends that was present, although it was strictly platonic, your boyfriend was angry and asked for it to be taken down, you guys broke up a few weeks later. My closest friend called me and said that there was something important that you had to tell me, that something had happened to you. I asked what it was but he insisted that you be the one to tell me.

I didn’t have airtime, so I sent you a direct message instead asking what had happened, you insisted that nothing had happened but I pressed on and I pissed you off. Your anger made me feel pain. I was like my stomach had sunk and it was never going to rise again.

Days went on and so did the weeks, school resumed again and I offered an explanation along with my apologies, it seemed all was well in the world again. I told her the role our mutual friend had played and she was curious into the motivation behind his action. They had had a little squabble and she had said she wouldn’t talk to him again. But our mutual friend had sunk his teeth in deep and in no time again they were once more friends.

He turned all my truths into lies while holding me close, and keeping himself informed of my plans. You refused to talk to me. I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking of you. I turned to one of the few people I could for advice – my sister – and she told me to focus, my academics couldn’t suffer because of you. I tried but I was failing miserably at it.

I summoned up courage and told you about my feelings and you acted like I had told you that the sky was blue by replying with a simple “so???”. My heart was shattered, my hopes dashed. I questioned myself and wondered what I had done wrong. I asked your best friend but she was being vague and implied I leave you alone. I continued on with my life as best as I could, closing myself up and becoming the type of guy I had always said I would never be.

It was good, the thrill made me forget till I saw your tweets implying that you and our mutual friend were now in a relationship, one faithful august day and as I sat in class listening to Avril Lavinge’s happy ending on my iPod, rain pouring around me, I realized there and then that there is no such thing as a happy ending.