Will 2
WILL
Mayowa Ojo
6/10/20266 min read
It was the smile on his face that unnerved me. I’d never seen that before but I could tell it was trouble.
Usually, when I have panic attacks I blank out. Just before my brain shut down briefly this time, I focused on the fact that there was a noose around my neck and so if I blanked out, I would die. The thought kept me from blanking out but came with a wave of nausea. It was so strong that I vomited in front of Jude. I instinctively reached to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand but was rudely reminded of my incapacitation.
I raised my head to look at Jude. The clock on the wall above his head distracted me by telling me it was four twenty one and the light that filtered in through the curtain indicated that it was day time. I returned my gaze to his face. I could see the vein on his left temple twitch. He was upset and I started to apologize.
“I’m so sorry Babe.”
I really was. The Persian rug on which I’d just puked was a beautiful one; the kind that reeked of high value.
Jude looked at me and then down at his all-white sneakers. My eyes followed his. There was a tiny spot of vomit on the right shoe and we seemed to see it at the same time.
“I know you are.”
“Allow me to clean it please, I begged.”
The frown on his face was replaced by that cold smile of his. It sent shivers up my spine.
I shut my eyes wandering how I had missed the vibes from him on the way there. I guessed he really did know me well enough to have perfected the art of masking his emotions around me. A part of me was upset because I was more apologetic about the mess I had made than the situation I was in and I knew why.
Jude suffered a measure of OCD. His was especially evident in whites and books. Anything white had to remain spotlessly white and anything in print had to either sit straight on a table or be aligned against a wall. I very quickly learned his distaste for disorderliness within the first few months of dating him.
It’s why I knew that whatever I had done to deserve being strung loosely from the ceiling by a noose like a piñata was nothing compared to the vomit on his shoe.
“Are you at least going to tell me what I did to deserve this?” I asked when the silence was starting to choke me.
He stayed silent but started moving toward me.
I started to panic again.
When he was in front of me, he looked down at his stained white sneakers and then up at me.
I started to beg but my words never made it out. Jude whacked me across the face so hard it felt like a rock fell and hit my face. I tasted the blood in my mouth as I tried to find my centre of gravity
“What…?” I asked as my eyes welled up.
“Wrong question,” he answered as his left hand came from nowhere and whacked me the second time.
I blanked out.
******************
Last Saturday I sat across from Toby’s pastor. Bored. The man was very indulging but there was nothing he was saying that I did not already know; nothing I had not struggled with for years but failed to grasp its understanding. He was certain he was helping me. I was certain I was using him; using him to please Toby… and myself.
I don’t have many friends but if ever there was a hall of fame for friendship in my mind, Toby would be high up on that list. He and I have a history that neither of us can deny, explain or let go of. I try my hardest to act disinterested and he does not force it any more than he knows it’s for his own good.
My attendance in church was largely hinged on his insistence. I gave in. Not because I needed a dose of church but because it helped to get away from myself.
He was talking about how much power we have as believers. He told me I was born for much more and that I could do anything. I wondered why he sounded more motivational than spiritual. I wondered if he would still be sitting there with his colourful words if he really knew me. I wondered if he would feel safe around my pretty face if he knew I could hurt him and get away with it.
But he seemed nice so I played nice.
I recently told Toby all there was to know about me. Sitting in front of his pastor, I wanted to tell him too but knew I would not. If I did I would start from the first time I hurt someone.
************
I was nine years old. That day, shortly after Nate and I were reunited (story for another day), I searched all of our school for Nate when it was time to go home. I was worried my uncles had come to take him and I started to feel my blood rise. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I raced through the fast emptying school looking for my brother.
I found him in the back of a building, being bullied by two bigger classmates of his who wanted to take advantage of his shyness.
“Stop it,” I yelled at them as soon as I spotted them several meters away.
They turned around to see who had the audacity to order them around. Once they saw it was me, they smiled because they thought I would be easy enough prey for them.
You see, Nate was not big on eating. He hardly ate and so I knew they were trying to get his lunch money from him just so they could buy the coloured water they called ice cream.
“And if we don’t?” the fatter of the two asked as he walked toward me.
I slowed my walking and tried very hard to slow my breathing. Seeing my brother helpless in a corner set a few wires loose in my brain.
I ignored his question and kept walking.
“Shame on you. Your sister, a girl, is coming to rescue you,” the other bully said facing Nate.
“That’s ENOUGH!” I yelled louder.
It got their attention but did not scare them enough.
The bigger bully and I met half way and he raised his hand to hit me. I tried to deflect his punch but his heavy hand weighed heavy on me and knocked me down sideways. This made him and his partner laugh.
I looked at Nate and our eyes met. I saw the fear in his eyes and my blood stopped rising. It simply boiled over.
“Come on big sister. Is that all?”
I turned from Nate and stared hard at fatso. His smile quickly changed to concern as he found that he could not breathe. He started to choke like he was having an asthma attack. The other bully asked him if he was okay but he could not respond.
The more he struggled to breathe the weaker he got. His eyes were locked on mine but I did not blink. He fell dramatically to his knees. I got up and stared him down till he begged.
“Let. Him. Go!” I said to the other bully.
I heard Nate run toward me and stand beside me.
“I could kill you both right now but I won’t. If you ever come near my brother or me again it will be your last day. And if I hear a word about this from anyone I will know who it came from and then I will come for you two.”
I turned around, grabbed Nate’s bag from where they had tossed it and walked. Once we were out of their view we ran. We must have run almost all the way home without saying anything. Later on Nate asked how I did that and I said I did not know.
I honesty did not. I just knew there was something in me that wanted the bully to hit me. I knew something in him would send me over the edge. What happened afterwards was a mystery but I gave in.
That was the end of my sane and innocent self as I knew it… and the beginning of my nightmares.
**************************
When I opened my eyes, the rug was no longer there. How Jude had moved the rug from beneath me without me waking up was scarier than impressive. I raised my head and saw that it was five minutes past six pm.
I turned around but there was no sign of Jude. I began to panic again.