NoSleep Entry #1
Right now, I am in my bathroom. My phone remains my only companion beside me in the tub. The tap over at the toilet still runs into the sink washing the smudge of blood down the drain, there is still a patch of drippy blood above the water's radius in the sink. The water runs while it remains untouched and its shape, unaltered.
Hair and skin products lie scattered and opened on the ground. The aroma of the conditioner she was using still rents the air. A stench that competes with the foul smell of iron in there, the intrusive odour is almost like her blood is crying. Labake, her daughter has gone back to her room to watch T.V after growing tired of knocking on the door, she probably thinks we were having rough sex. Oh my God, I didn't mean to do anything.
We met at Labake's baseball practice two months ago. We live at Lekki, so we are a little well-off. I came to watch them play as I always do on days that relax me while Rebecca came to watch her daughter. I knew I caught her eye when I jumped into the field to carry Labake when she fainted from dehydration. Although the panic was for a moment, being the first to react over a child who was not mine caught her fancy. Getting close to her ever since had been seamless.
Rebecca never cared about my whims or the fact that I own an unsuccessful video game channel on YouTube and I intend for it to be my source of livelihood. She took me in when my mom started forgetting things easily and she needed to be moved to a hospice home. I truly love her and I mean it, every bit of her.
But this morning on my way to get the paper as is my morning ritual. The homeless guy I sometimes talked to asked me what expression would be on my face after I die. I told him I didn't know and he asked me to think about it. I briskly shortened the conversation and walked away from him. Weirdo. But the seed had been planted, throughout the day I could not get my mind off it.
Rebecca went to work and Labake went to school as usual. Leaving me home alone with thoughts that I can swear were originally not mine. I spent the day googling pictures of popular dead people and trying to guess the cause of their deaths. But most of them were just.... blank. Not definitive. Probably because the face relaxes in the hours that followed the death. I needed to see a fresh dead face.
Rebecca and her daughter came back from work and she made dinner. Dinner was as tasty as ever. I didn't talk much, she didn't either. Rebecca knew when I wanted to be left with my thoughts. After dinner, we watched a little T.V after which she left me for the bathroom. Silence of The Lambs was on, it is my third time seeing it, I can't be as clinical as Hannibal. I hardly even know if I can cover my tracks. But I really need to see that expression.
After minutes of deliberating and staring blankly at the movie. I ran into Labake's room to take her baseball bat which leaned on the wall behind the door. Labake was playing with her computer, she hardly even looked at me. I stepped outside her room and made for the bathroom. I held the grip firmly, dragging the top of the barrel on the floor as I walked slowly. The sound it made gave me peace, somehow.
I kicked the door open, the loud noise startled her. She looked at me, almost terrified but I didn't allow it to register. I swung the bat to the back of her left knee and she knelt down with a squeal. Her hand, frantically trying to hold on to whatever that can support her weight as she went down, toppling hair and skin products on the ground in the process. Labake was already at the door, hitting the door while asking if she's okay "Mommy are you okay?" I slowly rested my hand against the door, preventing her from gaining access. Then I turned the key, to face Rebecca.
Her face was contorted in pain while She struggled, between heavy breaths to gain composure. I strike again at her chest, and again below her ribs, I am taking good swings today. I needed the face intact. She tried to crawl away from me as she aims for the tub. I watched her for a while as she whimpered silently. The door is locked; I was with the bat. I might as well enjoy this.
The door was banging. Labake was still there.
"Go to your room honey" Rebecca said. I admired her bravery.
She crawled toward the edge of the bath and she flung a bucket at me. I dodged it, but in the process I dropped the bat. That was her opportunity to lunge at him with all she had. She took it, but she slipped on the spilt conditioner on the ground and hit her head on the sink with a huge clunk.
She didn't move. In her right hand was a small pocket knife that she still held tightly even in death. Her thick blood covers the floor at an even pace slowly. Her eyes were on me and her mouth was opened in an "O" shape. She looked different dead. Almost beautiful. The voice in my head subsided and my emotions came reeling in.
It paralysed me and I sunk into the tub immediately. I fetched my phone from my pocket and punched in the emergency number. I have not dialed yet. I only multi tasked to post this story. What did I do? I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me. I made Labake, an innocent 7-year-old motherless. Such a beautiful little girl who is absolutely brilliant, she has this high pitched laughter when she's tickled. It’s amazing. But what would be her expression at death? Why am I thinking of this?
But the voice is already in my head and it needs to be quelled. Slowly, I get out of the tub and pick the baseball bat. I will make this quick, I'm about to put my phone in my pocket now. I will come back, and dial emergency number.
.
Hair and skin products lie scattered and opened on the ground. The aroma of the conditioner she was using still rents the air. A stench that competes with the foul smell of iron in there, the intrusive odour is almost like her blood is crying. Labake, her daughter has gone back to her room to watch T.V after growing tired of knocking on the door, she probably thinks we were having rough sex. Oh my God, I didn't mean to do anything.
We met at Labake's baseball practice two months ago. We live at Lekki, so we are a little well-off. I came to watch them play as I always do on days that relax me while Rebecca came to watch her daughter. I knew I caught her eye when I jumped into the field to carry Labake when she fainted from dehydration. Although the panic was for a moment, being the first to react over a child who was not mine caught her fancy. Getting close to her ever since had been seamless.
Rebecca never cared about my whims or the fact that I own an unsuccessful video game channel on YouTube and I intend for it to be my source of livelihood. She took me in when my mom started forgetting things easily and she needed to be moved to a hospice home. I truly love her and I mean it, every bit of her.
But this morning on my way to get the paper as is my morning ritual. The homeless guy I sometimes talked to asked me what expression would be on my face after I die. I told him I didn't know and he asked me to think about it. I briskly shortened the conversation and walked away from him. Weirdo. But the seed had been planted, throughout the day I could not get my mind off it.
Rebecca went to work and Labake went to school as usual. Leaving me home alone with thoughts that I can swear were originally not mine. I spent the day googling pictures of popular dead people and trying to guess the cause of their deaths. But most of them were just.... blank. Not definitive. Probably because the face relaxes in the hours that followed the death. I needed to see a fresh dead face.
Rebecca and her daughter came back from work and she made dinner. Dinner was as tasty as ever. I didn't talk much, she didn't either. Rebecca knew when I wanted to be left with my thoughts. After dinner, we watched a little T.V after which she left me for the bathroom. Silence of The Lambs was on, it is my third time seeing it, I can't be as clinical as Hannibal. I hardly even know if I can cover my tracks. But I really need to see that expression.
After minutes of deliberating and staring blankly at the movie. I ran into Labake's room to take her baseball bat which leaned on the wall behind the door. Labake was playing with her computer, she hardly even looked at me. I stepped outside her room and made for the bathroom. I held the grip firmly, dragging the top of the barrel on the floor as I walked slowly. The sound it made gave me peace, somehow.
I kicked the door open, the loud noise startled her. She looked at me, almost terrified but I didn't allow it to register. I swung the bat to the back of her left knee and she knelt down with a squeal. Her hand, frantically trying to hold on to whatever that can support her weight as she went down, toppling hair and skin products on the ground in the process. Labake was already at the door, hitting the door while asking if she's okay "Mommy are you okay?" I slowly rested my hand against the door, preventing her from gaining access. Then I turned the key, to face Rebecca.
Her face was contorted in pain while She struggled, between heavy breaths to gain composure. I strike again at her chest, and again below her ribs, I am taking good swings today. I needed the face intact. She tried to crawl away from me as she aims for the tub. I watched her for a while as she whimpered silently. The door is locked; I was with the bat. I might as well enjoy this.
The door was banging. Labake was still there.
"Go to your room honey" Rebecca said. I admired her bravery.
She crawled toward the edge of the bath and she flung a bucket at me. I dodged it, but in the process I dropped the bat. That was her opportunity to lunge at him with all she had. She took it, but she slipped on the spilt conditioner on the ground and hit her head on the sink with a huge clunk.
She didn't move. In her right hand was a small pocket knife that she still held tightly even in death. Her thick blood covers the floor at an even pace slowly. Her eyes were on me and her mouth was opened in an "O" shape. She looked different dead. Almost beautiful. The voice in my head subsided and my emotions came reeling in.
It paralysed me and I sunk into the tub immediately. I fetched my phone from my pocket and punched in the emergency number. I have not dialed yet. I only multi tasked to post this story. What did I do? I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me. I made Labake, an innocent 7-year-old motherless. Such a beautiful little girl who is absolutely brilliant, she has this high pitched laughter when she's tickled. It’s amazing. But what would be her expression at death? Why am I thinking of this?
But the voice is already in my head and it needs to be quelled. Slowly, I get out of the tub and pick the baseball bat. I will make this quick, I'm about to put my phone in my pocket now. I will come back, and dial emergency number.
.
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